A Fête Worse Than... Unless...

When Cecile told me that we had received a phone call from Alex Periwinkle, that he had a problem and he needed to see me urgently, I hurried round to his house. When I arrived, he wasn't alone. Frasier Chocolate was sitting, watching Alex pace up and down his living room, shaking his head.

"No, Fraze," Alex was saying, "it's too late for that." That was when he noticed me. "Ah, Jackson," he said, a smile fighting but failing to sustain, "So good of you to come. I hope you can help me. There's a problem with the Melting."

He indicated that I should sit, then outlined the situation.

"I was asked to organise the music. After the success of last year, with Bernard Snow-Warren singing, my initial thoughts were to try and get his old band back together. They were a little unsure at first, but they warmed to the idea. I'd given them plenty of notice, so they could start to practise. As you know, my dad still plays; being organist for Kelvin Waters keeps his hands agile. For the fête he would use the instrument from the village hall. Bernard was so proud of the response to his singing, he's kept that up."

"So Chris tells me," I commented.

"Yes, and Gus Timbertop often plays his drums in a trio at the Bear Pit. So that only left Smokey Wildwood and Winston Cottontail for the bass and guitars. We had no problem finding a guitar for Winston, but we had to arrange for a suitable stand-up bass to be shipped in to the village."

"Okay," I said, wondering how this related to the mysterious problem. I was to find out.

"Well, the first thing was Ramsey Nettlefield's idea of attracting bands from all over Sylvania. That takes some arranging, so my attention was diverted to seeking out possible musicians to ask. That meant I didn't keep on top of the Bunny Boys and their progress. After all, we wouldn't be totally reliant upon them."

I thought I saw where this was going. "Then Ramsey had second thoughts."

"Yes. Well, that was part of the problem. Of course, I had to contact those musicians who'd expressed an initial interest, thanking them but explaining the music festival was not happening."

"So you were back to the Bunny Boys being the main event of the fête."

He nodded. "They had to expand their set list again, meaning more practice. Then I discovered that the bass had been late arriving and then it was damaged in transit. Smokey needed to get another, and he was worried he wouldn't have time to practise. And then the real bad luck started."

I slapped my head. "Of course! Winston broke his arm, didn't he?"

"He did. And Bernard has developed a throat problem. I don't know if it's a strain on his vocal cords, laryngitis, a minor infection - but he's been advised to minimise talking for a couple of weeks. Singing is a total no-no."

"That's a real shame. I wonder why Chris didn't tell me?"

"The diagnosis was only two days ago."

"Ah."

"That's why I was wondering... how do you feel about singing?"

I laughed, then saw his face. "Oh, you're serious." I reigned in my laughter. "I'm sorry, Alex. I can hold a tune, but my voice wouldn't suit a performance."

"Oh." He was crestfallen. "I didn't know who else to ask. Do you know anyone suitable?"

"I can give it some thought. Presumably you need to know as soon as possible?"

Alex was about to answer when his wife called him.

He was needed on the telephone. He gave us his apologies and said he wouldn't be long. I was left alone with Frasier, who exhibited a hint of a smile. I wondered what amused him, so asked.

"It's Alex, panicking," said the village chocolatier. "He was so honoured at been asked to organise the Melting music, and now he sees it all going wrong. His idea of bringing back Bear Banger and the Bunny Boys looks less and less likely."

"And that's funny?"

"No, of course not. But his view is too narrow. I've suggested a solution, but he can't see it fitting in with his original plan."

"Oh. What was your idea?"

"My niece Belle is pretty good on the violin. Her flat-mate Tegan is marvellous on the cello."

"What was Alex's objection?"

"That they wouldn't have time to work out arrangements of the Bunny Boys' repertoire and practise them."

"Do they need to play Bunny Boy songs?"

"That's why I said his view is too narrow." Frasier relented. "Maybe I'm being a little unfair. Perhaps he's thinking the Bunny Boys would have difficulty getting up to speed with songs other than their own."

I nodded. "Maybe. I think Mack Periwinkle isn't comfortable performing new songs unless he's thoroughly practised them. Preferably with manuscript. I don't think playing by ear's in his comfort zone any more."

"Gus is happy banging away, though," laughed Frasier, "although maybe not with classical violin and cello."

I had to smile at the thought. "True, true. So is that why you're here? To volunteer Belle and Tegan's musical expertise?"

"No. There was a rumour the entire event was going to be postponed. I wanted to know if it was true. As you know, I'm creating the chocolate rabbits for the Bunny Hunt. A change of date wouldn't affect me but my brother would be hiding them and a postponement could affect his availability."

I did laugh then; a memory returned of the previous Bunny Hunt. "Oh, those Waters children last year!"

"The Bunny Hunt rules are being amended to close that loophole," said Frasier with a wide grin.

We chatted a while until Alex returned. He found a seat and slumped into it.

"No Bunny Boys this year. My dad has the flu."

o 0 O 0 o

Alex was dejected. "I phoned Gus and told him it was off. I can't fight any more. Maybe I should have planned for health problems." He looked up. "You must think I'm awful, going on about the fête when my dad is ill. The clinic wants him to be monitored for 24 hours but they believe it's only a mild bout, fortunately. Henry Bearbury says he should be fully recovered in two weeks. Just not in time for the Melting."

I sighed. "You're really down aren't you? Providing the music is weighing down upon you."

"It is my responsibility. I agreed to do it."

"Well, I don't like to see you like this. You're normally such an upbeat chap, Alex."

He shrugged.

"Right." I had reached a decision. "Since Mack is unavailable, I'm prepared to play. I still won't sing, but I'm comfortable improvising and playing the piano by ear."

It was as if Alex had been given a tonic. "That's great, thanks. I should let Gus know."

I held up a restraining paw. "Don't do that. I won't be playing a Bunny Boys set. I've just thought of a vocalist but the material would need to be appropriate. And I think we should be talking to Frasier's niece."

Alex's eyes went wide.

o 0 O 0 o

It was only a few months ago when I heard Belle Chocolate and Tegan Golightly play at a recital and I had been impressed. So much so that I arranged - via Belle's mother - for Chris Snow-Warren and I to hear them again. They were certainly a pair of talented girls. I accepted Alex's worry that they wouldn't have time to adapt to the Bunny Boys' music, but if they played music with which they were familiar they couldn't fail to impress a crowd at the Melting.

I had sufficient confidence in my abilities to know I could competently accompany them. And I knew certain songs they played were written in such a way that vocals were an option.

A few people remember the young contralto Roxanne Renoir from around six years ago. She duetted with Lionel Grande on one of his popular gramophone records, touring with him around Sylvania to promote the album. A wonderful voice, but Roxanne didn't enjoy being in the limelight. She still makes recordings, but few people see her in public. She prefers to live privately. She lives in Mellowdene.

I know, because Chris and I have written some songs for her. She loves living in Mellowdene and is happy that few people know they have a noted singer on their doorstep. That's because she doesn't use her professional name in her ordinary life. To all the villagers she is simply Roxy Renard.

o 0 O 0 o

I'm not going to detail all the events of this year's Melting. Call it a festival, call it a celebration of the Snow Queen - whatever tag one gives it, it wouldn't be considered the worst fête - as Alex Periwinkle had feared it might.

And as Roxy Renard's velvet tones floated above the village green, woven around the melodies from the violin, cello and harmonium trio, I noted in particular that three of our audience had contented smiles on their faces. Maybe they were temporarily suffering ill health, but these three Bunny Boys wouldn't have missed this performance for the world.

o 0 O 0 o