‘How many people do you think will come?’ Daisy asked.

‘I don’t know. I’ve never done anything like this before. I’ve done a few private parties before for hen parties and stag nights and I’ve done a few corporate team-building-type events but I’ve never just put out an open invitation for anyone to come along and have a go. It was Maggie’s idea, she said it would be another thing that would raise money for charity. And she’s not someone you ever say no to.’

Daisy smiled as she glanced over at Maggie on the phone. ‘No, I get that impression too. So how does this work, you just show people how to do it and let them get on with it?’

‘Pretty much. I’ll show them the basic skills. I have some templates here if anyone wants to use them and then I’ll just go round and give them pointers as they work. I’m not honestly expecting great things from anyone. People will just want to have some fun having a go. Whenever I’ve done the hen or stag parties, everyone always does willies.’

Daisy burst out laughing. ‘Seriously?’

‘Yeah.’

‘What, everyone?’

‘Yes, pretty much. Grannies, mother of the bride, the men, they all like to carve willies. I don’t know why. The first time I did a hen party I just presumed I had a group of ladies that had a bit of dirty sense of humour but I’ve done maybe ten or twenty parties over the years, every single time I get willies.’

‘That’s hilarious.’

Penny smiled. ‘I’m hoping the people of White Cliff Bay might be more discerning and I might get a few Christmas crackers or bells or trees, but I imagine I’ll probably just get a load of willies. Maggie has a local press photographer coming to record the sculptures at the end so I need you to create something tasteful to make sure he won’t be photographing a load of willies.’

‘What’s all this talk of willies?’ Henry said, carrying over three small ice blocks and setting them up on the tables. ‘Are you corrupting my daughter?’

Daisy giggled. ‘Wellies, Dad, not willies. You need to get your ears checked, old man.’

Henry slung an arm round her neck and strangled her against his chest. ‘Less of the old, you, and stop talking about willies with my innocent daughter.’

Penny laughed. ‘You’re the only one mentioning willies. Daisy was telling the truth, we were talking about how I needed a new pair of wellies and what colour to get.’

She tried but failed to look innocent and Henry pretended to glare at her.

‘And what colour did you decide on?’

‘Pink,’ Daisy said.

‘Purple,’ Penny said at the same time and then hid her smile behind her water bottle.

‘Pinky purple,’ Daisy said, unable to control her laughter as they carried on the lie.

Henry suppressed a smile as he walked back to the freezer van to collect more blocks.

‘We should talk about something else sordid for when he comes back,’ Daisy said. ‘How about drugs or prostitution or bestiality?’

Penny spat out her drink. ‘I think you’re the one who will be corrupting me, not the other way round. Bloody hell.’

‘Don’t swear in front of my daughter,’ Henry said, as he came back and Penny burst out laughing at what he had just missed.

‘Yeah, Penny, my innocent ears don’t need to hear words like that.’

Penny was about to defend herself when a family with a young child walked through the doors. The posters had been very clear about the age limit. With the sharp tools that were being used, no one under the age of eighteen was allowed to participate for legal reasons. Daisy was the exception to that rule and only because Penny had taken full responsibility for her and told Maggie how good she was. Penny hoped this family hadn’t turned up wanting their little children to have a go. Maggie, as efficient as ever, went to greet them as a few other people walked through the doors of the marquee.

At least with more people inside the marquee, it might start to warm up a bit, although they would need hundreds more people to make a difference to the temperature. It was so bitterly cold Penny worried about whether people would really enjoy themselves or even be able to hold and use the tools properly.

A few more people arrived, some of them Penny knew from around the town: Libby, Maggie’s sister Hazel, surprisingly old Suzanna from the chemist, other people she didn’t know. Maggie was taking payment and issuing them with instructions to find a pair of gloves and a table. The marquee was still almost empty. With Christmas only three days away the people of the town were most likely using the day for last-minute shopping or visiting relatives. As the time they were supposed to start came and went and no one else arrived, Penny guessed that was it. There were ten of them eager to learn, which was a nice number to teach but not the hugely successful event that Maggie had hoped it would be. The participants were all huddled inside their coats looking miserable in the cold.

Henry looked around the group anxiously. ‘Why don’t I take orders from these guys for some hot drinks? There’s a coffee shop just down the road, I could be there and back in about fifteen minutes.’

‘That’ll be perfect, thank you so much,’ Penny said, leaning up to kiss him on the cheek and stopping just in time before anyone noticed. Henry smiled at what she had just been about to do.

‘Soon, I promise,’ he whispered. He touched her hand just briefly but it was enough for her to know that he wanted to kiss her too.

He went around and took orders from everybody; they were all beyond grateful at the prospect of something hot to warm themselves up.

After he had left, Penny introduced herself and gave a short demonstration of how to draw the thing they wanted to carve and which tools to use to turn that 2D drawing into a 3D sculpture. She only had basic tools available for them to use and certainly no chainsaws so she was confident enough to be able to walk around and work with each member of the group one on one, leaving the others to fend for themselves until she got round to them.

There were three girls in their early twenties who had come together and were giggling about what they were going to carve. Penny smiled, knowing that they at least would be producing willies.

She walked past Daisy, stopping briefly to examine what she was drawing on the side of her block.

‘Don’t worry, it’s not going to be a willy,’ Daisy said.

‘Nothing else dodgy either, if you don’t mind. Your dad will never forgive me.’

Daisy smiled and carried on with her carving. Penny left her to it. A quick circuit of the tables proved that seven of the ten members of the group were in fact doing willies and finding themselves very original and funny for having thought of it. Libby was using the template to make a square boxed cracker and one man was trying his hand, not very successfully, on a tree.

She stopped in the middle, watching her students immersed in their work and smiled at what a lovely feeling it was to see her tuition in progress, to see them enjoying themselves because of what she had shown them. Maybe she really would take Jackson Cartwright up on his offer to come in and teach his students.

But it was too cold and although her students were having fun with the new challenge, she could see many of them were having to stop to blow on their hands. Working at low temperatures was never fun. She had sometimes been forced, for one reason or another, to carve inside her walk-in freezer, but she could only stand it for short periods before her hands and feet got too cold to work, despite wearing gloves and steel-toecapped fur boots. Even Daisy, who was used to working in the cool room with her, was having to stop momentarily to put her tools down and rub her hands together. She had rolled her sleeves up, as she did every time she worked, and her bare forearms were exposing her to the cold more than was necessary.