“Have we?” Ryan asks, dubious.
“We’re in, Mara,” says Samira, shaking her head and rolling her eyes.
Lynn has now folded her arms and is muttering out toward the English Channel. She takes a deep breath and nods at me. “Go on, Mara.”
“Okay. I think the action needs to be twofold. We need to make some improvements around here. Just a few. A fundraiser. A cool event of some kind. To give people in the community a vision of what this place could be. There is also an election in around eight weeks, August twenty-first. And I think we should run someone against the current councilor, who clearly doesn’t have the interestsof the lido at heart. And if our person wins, then we could potentially halt the sale, or at least stall it for enough time to launch a propersave the lidocampaign.” I was around enough election hustle at Westminster Council when I worked in London. I know some of what it will take.
“But who?” Lynn says. “We need to find a candidate, and which of us knows anything about politics? Don’t we need manifestos? Experience? A team? A political party?”
“The person can run as an independent,” says Samira. “I know that because my cousin ran in Ramsgate a few years ago. He ran as a man in a cat costume. Called himself the Political Pussy Party.”
“Yikes,” I say.
“He was microdosing at the time,” she explains.
“It has to be you, Lynn,” I say, nodding to the pins all over her lapel. “No one knows this town and the community better than you. And from my very limited council election experience—you don’t really need an entire manifesto. You just need a kind of catchphrase. Like,Keep Broadgate BrilliantorIsn’t Broad-great!”
“Ooh, I like that.Broad-great Is Really Great,” Lynn says, as if it’s settled.
“It’s just a first idea,” I say, wondering how to be diplomatic about her slogan. “Let’s leave it to percolate.”
A huge splash soaks all three of us as Ryan suddenly jumps into the pool and emerges shirtless in the waist-deep water. He flicks his head around and the spray hits us all across the face. “I think better when I’m wet,” he says, folding his arms and nodding for us to continue.
“I’ll do it,” says Lynn suddenly. “I’ll bloody well do it.”
“Honestly, Lynn, you were kind of made for it,” I say.
“You’d make a great politician, Lynn. You already have that kind of look with the trouser suits,” Ryan says. “Samira can do all the social media. She’s hot on TikTok. She has fourteen thousand followers.”
“None of them are from Broadgate,” Samira says quickly, blushing, I think, at being calledhot. “But the point stands. I can do the socials.”
“Perfect. You’re the press secretary,” I say. Seriously, I couldn’t think of a better job for Samira. “What about Ryan? Can you hit the phones? Drum up support?”
“Of course. We can door-knock. Lifeguards for Lynn. I’ll get the others to help. But what are you going to do?” Ryan asks. Then he looks to Lynn and to Samira. “What is Mara good at?”
There is a long silence.
“I’m thinking,” Samira says after a while.
“She’s good with money,” says Ryan.
“Is she?” Samira asks, eyeing me.
“Yes, to be fair, that’s why we’re in this mess,” says Lynn, raising an eyebrow my way.
“For the hundredth time, it’s not my fault that we’re losing money. I am just a bookkeeper. I can’t control anything except a spreadsheet!” I say. “Bloody hell. There are so many inconsistencies in the finances, though. Donations. Duplicate sign-ups. It’s strange. It’s like Gerry is trying to run us into the ground, but at the same time, there is some unaccounted-for money keeping us afloat. I don’t know what his game is.”
“Yes, yes, yes, but what canyoudo to help?” Lynn pesters.
My phone beeps and I stand, apologizing to the team. “Why don’t you all have a think about my value while I check this message.”
I skulk over to the edge of the pool, staring across at theincredible view as I go. It really is breathtaking. I look over at the office space and imagine a local art gallery or a venue space up there. I imagine adding solar heating to the pool—just enough to take the edge off the chill so it can be enjoyed in winter. I envisage new sea stairs climbing down to the sand, and when that sun sets across the bay, fairy lights pick up the edge of the space, and a large projector beamingThe Great Gatsbyplays to a clientele of guests in floating flamingos. It really could be something, this place. I’m all in.
I look down at my phone.
It’s Ash.
I signed for a package for you.
