“Wilde?” Mrs Scarlett’s eyes lit up. “Are you any relation to our Oscar?”
“Um, I don’t think so.” My heart skipped a beat. My mum ran away from home when she was sixteen to be with my Dad, who abandoned her shortly thereafter while she was pregnant with me. She still didn’t talk to anyone in her family, and I’d never met any relatives. “I don’t know anyone by that name—”
“No, no, no,Oscar Wilde, the great Victorian writer and provocateur. We studiedThe Picture of Dorian Greyin the book club last month, didn’t we, Linda?”
“We certainly did. Although I must admit, it wasn’t as vulgar as I expected.”
“This month’s choice should be more to your taste,” Mrs Scarlett declared. “It’s one of the most banned books in America since its release in 1962 because of its vulgarity and language.”
“You’re both in a book club?” I asked, interested.
“But of course! I’m surprised Heathcliff hasn’t told you about it,” Mrs Ellis was busy scanning the books on the, probably looking for more of her favourite bodice-rippers. “Gladys here has been running the ___field Banned Books Club for the last fifteen years.”
“Banned Books Club? So you read only banned books?” The idea intrigued me. Heathcliff stomped on my foot in an attempt to get me to hurry the conversation along, but I ignored him.
“Yes. It was all my idea. We feel it’s important to ensure that censorship continues to be challenged,” said Mrs Scarlett. “Each month, we choose a different book that has been banned in some way, and we read and discuss its merits and characters over high tea.”
“We come in every month to collect the books for our members,” Mrs Ellis waved at Heathcliff. “Mr Heathcliff is so good to put our requests aside for us. That’s why we’re here, for our six copiesOf Mice and Men.”
“Don’t talk about mice!” Morrie yelled from upstairs.
“He’s a bit sensitive at the moment,” I stage-whispered, loud enough for Morrie to hear. “A tiny mouse ran up his trousers, and he hasn’t been the same since.”
“It wasn’t a tiny mouse. It was enormous, like all things in my trousers!”
“I can see why you feel at home in this shop, Mabel.” Mrs Scarlett huffed. “Young lady, please tell me you’ve got all six copies. I can’t stand for something else to go wrong.”
Heathcliff dumped a stack of books on the desk. “There. Six copies in near perfect condition. If you find any mouse droppings, you can have them half-off. Now, can we move this along? This is a bookshop, not a bloody social club—”
“What else has gone wrong?” I asked as I elbowed Heathcliff out of the way to ring up the till.
“We used to meet in the village hall, but some workmen on the King’s Copse development lost control of their earthmoving machine, and drove it straight through the wall.” Mrs Ellis’ face lit up with delight. “So of course the place is in a right state, and Health and Safety won’t allow us to meet there anymore.”
“We asked about using the Sunday School room, but some members of the church committee objected,” Mrs Scarlett declared. “Apparently, our book club has a corrupting influence on the community. Personally, I think it’s an attempt to oust me from my seat and replace me with that rotten Helen Ingram.”
“Well, wearereading books the church considers objectionable,” Mrs Ellis clucked. “Although how anyone can object to Harry Potter is beyond me. Young Harry never gets his end away—”
“Yes, and how they can object to fine literature and yet support that hideous development is beyond me!”
“Development?” I asked. I’d been out of the loop of ___field news in New York City. I didn’t know anything about a development.
“A big city developer purchased the old King’s Copse wood. They’re building a huge development behind ___field.” Mrs Ellis made a face. “Several houses are already going in on the clear strip between the wood and the village. That’s how the village hall got knocked through.”
“I bet they did it on purpose. It’s a dreadful business, that development.” Mrs Scarlett tsked. She leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially. I caught the faintest whiff of garlic on her breath. “But we’ll soon be putting a stop to it.”
“How?” I tried to picture Mrs Scarlett and a horde of formidable old biddies chaining themselves to trees.
“The developers may own the land, but if they want to put anything on it, they’ll have to go through the planning process just like everyone else,” Mrs Scarlett declared, puffing out her chest. “As the head of the planning committee, I don’t intend to allow their modern monstrosities to sully our quaint local vernacular. ___field is a popular destination for tourists and locals because of its old world charm, and this development threatens that. I’m surprised you’re not more concerned about it,” She glared at Heathcliff. “They’ll drive away your customers!”
“Good,” Heathcliff muttered. “I hope they start building tomorrow.”
“Gladys has collected a petition of supporters from the local community to block the plans until a design is submitted that’s more in keeping with our heritage. She’s really very clever,” Mrs Ellis put in. “I’m looking forward to the meeting next week where she will present it. That head developer, Edward Lachlan, is rather handsome.”
“He’s ascoundrel,” Mrs Scarlett hissed. “If his wife wasn’t in the book club, I’d see him driven out of this village. But that doesn’t solve the issue of a meeting place for our book club. Do either of you happen to know of any spaces to rent in the village? If we don’t find anything we shall have to meet at the Lachlan house, and I won’t be having with that.”
“Why don’t you meet here?” I asked.
Heathcliff’s boot slammed down on my foot. I pretended not to notice.
