“Look, lads. This town has been run by the same man for nine years. Our local council elections attract less than seventeen percent of the eligible voters, and you know what has improved in Broadgate since then? Nothing. Meanwhile, Margate, with its fancy music festivals and flat white coffee shops, is...”
She’s lost them again, and the bartender has headed over to the sound desk to turn off her microphone when she blurts out, “And we’ll make sure this place has a brand-new seventy-inch flat-screen TV for watching the footy and the races, and I’ll make parking free for locals.”
Nods of approval. Cheers.
“All right, love, you’ve said your bit,” says a man in a flat cap, who already has the TV remote control lifted.
As Lynn and I crowd around the car in the back lane, preparing for her next rally in the car park outside the garden center, she turns to me and says, “Well, you can see how this works, can’t you? You want to do the right thing, but to get votes you have to do these simplistic popular things. It’s complicated.”
“It is, but I think you just promised them a new TV, and that’s okay for now.”
“I actually think I want to do this job,” she says, sighing. “I love this town.”
“I know you do,” I reply.
“But do these locals actually want it?”
I shrug. “The floating cinema did so well. Seems to me theywant it; we just need to keep coming up with things they want to want.”
“I am quite amazed by your work, Mara,” Lynn says, “for someone who didn’t seem to give a hoot about anyone a few months ago. You have to get back up and keep going, don’t you? Learn from your setbacks. Keep pushing forth!” She holds a fist up to the sky like a freedom fighter.
We stand in silence for a moment, and I glance down at my phone and frown. It’s nearly time to get to the next event, but Lynn’s words are gnawing at me.
“Well, sure, but it depends on the setback,” I say, trying not to think of university and Noah. Have I used all that as an excuse for my own giving up?
“You’re not dead, Mara. If there is something you want to do that isn’t this, you should chase it,” she says. “Don’t be like me. I never even asked myself the question of what I wanted to do, never mind giving up on it. Seems so indulgent, really.”
I roll my eyes at her and she breaks into a wry smile.
Samira arrives with her arms still full of flyers and plonks the pile down on the bonnet of the car. “All this paper waste.” She sighs. “People think I’m trying to make them sign up for a charity or a religion, and I’d just rather not put myself through this anymore.”
“Ryan can take over,” I say.
“Did you tell her, Lynn?” Samira says, glancing over at Lynn, who purses her lips and folds her arms.
“I told Gerry like you said, and then Gerry fired me,” she says.
“What? He can’t do that.”
“Probably not, but since I’m HR, and also the employee in question, who am I going to complain to? Ryan?”
“Lynn, he can’t fire you. That’s not right,” I say.
“Meh,” she says putting her hand on my shoulder, “if we lose this election, we’re all out of a job eventually anyway.”
We head to the garden center car park and Lynn picks up three mugs of sweet tea, all with milk and two sugars just as she likes them, and we sit on a couple of logs while we wait to see if anyone shows.
“You didn’t reply to my message,” says Samira, as Lynn becomes distracted by a passing friend and swans off in a self-important flurry ofdid you know I’m running for council?
Samira had sent me a message to see if I was okay, and I felt so grim after speaking with Charlie, I’d ignored it, turned off my phone, and gone to sleep. She touches the edge of her skirt and brushes off some invisible crumbs.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
I look at her and then down to the tea in my hand, and I shrug. “Not really,” I say.
“What’s going on?” Her eyes are fixed on mine with such an engaged intensity I feel almost compelled to answer.
“I don’t know if I should say.”
