Read Online The Great Village Show by Alexandra Brown - Free Book Online

in tandem, with weekly meetings. Then we can convene a meeting for the whole village at regular intervals. I’m happy to put together and communicate a set of dates and times, locations, etc. I could pin a list on the notice board in the village square.’ I quickly pause and look at Sybs for confirmation, not wanting to step on her toes, but by the look of the big grin on her face, she seems perfectly happy for me to take charge, so I carry on. ‘Yes, and Tindledale needs to look its very best before show day, just in case the judges arrive a few days earlier, as they’ve been known to in the past.’
    I stop talking and see them all staring at me, clearly bamboozled by my bossy, but – and if I do say so myself – extra-efficient approach. I spot Mrs Pocket in my peripheral vision, pursing her lips and doing her ‘that’s my girl’ face, so she clearly approves. And if I have her on board, then getting everyone else on side should be a doddle. Spurred on, I scan the beer garden – Sybs is smiling and nodding, Lawrence winks and nods too, the WI ladies fold their arms and look to each other before doing a collective nod of agreement. Not to be outdone, the people seated at the parish council table demonstrate their support by clapping, apart from the general, who eyes me suspiciously before pulling out a pipe and sticking it into his moustachioed mouth. Molly and Cooper applaud too, having just about managed to recover from their hysterics – Molly is wiping her laughter tears away with a napkin. Taylor from the Pet Parlour, Kitty, Hettie from the haberdashery, and all the school mums join in. Everyone seems to be on board.
    ‘Excuse me.’ It’s Hettie, with her spindly arms pressed into the table, trying to propel her wiry, frail body up into a standing position. Marigold and Sybs jump to her aid and, after a few seconds, Hettie is fully mobile and walking towards me. ‘Sorry dear, I’m not as sprightly as I used to be. But I’d like to say a few words if I may?’ She fixes her Wedgwood-blue eyes on to me.
    ‘Of course Hettie, go ahead.’ And the crowd falls silent – as one of the oldest villagers from a family that has lived in Tindledale going back several generations, she’s automatically assured a certain level of respect.
    ‘Thank you. As many of you know, I’ve lived in Tindledale my whole life – that’s eighty years, give or take.’ She pauses and pats her big Aunt Bessie bun. ‘But what many of you don’t know is that Tindledale has already won an award for putting on the greatest village show.’ A collective hushed whisper ricochets around the garden. ‘Yes, it was in 1965, on a gloriously warm day. So this will be the fiftieth anniversary of that win. It might be a nice idea to commemorate that victory – I’m sure a banner was made,’ Hettie adds vaguely, her papery forehead creasing in concentration as she tries to remember what happened to the banner.
    ‘Yes, that’s right,’ the vicar joins in, walking over towards Hettie and me. ‘I was quite young, of course,’ he laughs good-naturedly.
    Lord Lucan wanders over as well. ‘Me too. There
was
a banner, rigged up in the village square for everyone to see. And wasn’t there talk of a commemorative stone? It was so long ago that I really can’t be sure.’ Lord Lucan shakes his head, baffled, as he tries to remember the details.
    ‘Yes, but there just wasn’t the money around.’ Hettie clasps her hands together.
    ‘Well, I think it’s a splendid idea,’ the vicar interjects, ‘and would certainly set the right mindset for when the judges arrive – they’ll see that Tindledale really is an old hand when it comes to putting on a great show. We must find the banner and resurrect it in the village square.’
    ‘And install a proper commemorative stone! It could go next to the war memorial,’ Lord Lucan says, pushing his shirt sleeves up enthusiastically.
    ‘Absolutely, and one for the civic pride committee to take