Look Back at Me (Fleckney Fields Series, Book 1)

A Special Day

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Viola stopped, pressed her hands into her knees, and folded in half, breathing heavily. It was one of those 'not good for running' days. She'd felt it from the start, but of course had continued pushing herself harder. She'd landed on her weaker left ankle awkwardly twice by now, and now her side had stitched. To continue being stubborn right now would simply lead to an injury. She should've given up a kilometre ago. She could always add more gym time if she wanted - instead of trying to end herself in. She straightened up with an irritated groan. What's wrong with you today, Viola?

"Dr. Holyoake, Dr. Holyoake!" a voice called her from her left.

Mrs. Groggin, an old lady, one of the WI members, and a fifth of the Fleckney Fab Five, as they were jokingly called in the county, was hurrying her way. The five elderly ladies were in charge of all the social life in the county and ruled it with five dry little iron fists.

"How fortunate it is to run into you!" the lady said and giggled. Ah, right, 'run.'

"Good morning, Mrs. Groggin," Viola greeted her.

"Good morning, good morning!" Mrs. Groggin said, and threw Viola's givet an appreciative look. "You're so stylish, Dr. Holyoake, even during physical exertion."

They'd exchanged about a dozen of the same empty pleasantries when Mrs. Groggin finally launched into her attack.

"I don't know if you still remember the social calendar in Fleckney, but you see, Dr. Holyoake, the Winter Festival is approaching," she said, and Viola nodded.

"I do, Mrs. Groggin. I'm really looking forward to it. I have many fond memories of it," Viola answered.

"And perhaps, you'd consider joining our team of volunteers?" Mrs. Groggin said innocently. "You see, Dr. Fenton never does, and our dear Snezha is one of the supervisors during the public baking contest. We'd like to see the surgery better represented in the events."

Viola smiled sincerely.

"I'd love to, Mrs. Groggin," she said. "To be honest, I was hoping you'd find me a spot to apply myself. Now that I'm back in Fleckney, I want to be a part of all its festivities."

"Oh but it's simply wonderful!" The old lady rubbed her hands. "Do you still dance?"

"Pardon?" Viola asked.

She didn't lie. She had hoped to be fully submerged into festivities, which were what the county did best - but she didn't expect her uni time hobby to be dug up so abruptly.

"You used to do ball dancing, didn't you? You see, our annual Winter dance is the least popular event, and we were hoping you could look into it."

"Oh, of course," Viola said. "I gladly will. Who is in charge of it at the moment?"

"Mrs. Small," said the old lady. "But she'd rather help with the book fair. We currently don't have a book shop in Fleckney Woulds, and we're bringing in stalls from the neighbouring counties. Young Johnny Holyoake is helping us. Mrs. Small has always been fond of the boy."

'Young Johnny Holyoake,' Rhys' cousin, wasn't young at all, Viola thought in amusement. Nor was he a 'boy.' He was Viola's age - and owned one of the biggest publishing houses in the country. Understandably, neither of the Holyoake men was an adult in the eyes of the old darlings of Fleckney. They remembered them as actual boys.

"I will gladly stop by after work tomorrow," Viola said. "I'm taking a personal day today."

"Oh that's lovely!" Mrs. Groggin exclaimed. "Our Headquarters are in Mr. Bjornsson's manor. He's renting out the East Wing to all sorts of committees and clubs in the county. We're obviously treated as guests," Mrs. Groggin said proudly.