‘You’re not really going to ask the committee to make them, are you?’
‘Watch me,’ said Vicky, with a twinkle in her eye and icing sugar on her nose. ‘How many reindeer does it take by the way?’ she asked, through a mouthful of mince pie.
‘Eight. One to screw in the lightbulb and seven to hold Rudolph down.’
Leonora raised her voice above the chatter. ‘When you’ve finished stuffing your faces there’s a competition we need to win, so if I could have your undivided attention,’ she bellowed and everyone almost stood to attention. Phyllis had her teeth in a mince pie but she still froze on the spot. ‘Shall we start the meeting?’ Leonora waved a hand at the table and those still standing scuttled over to take a seat.
Vicky got up and began walking around the table placing wool in front of each person along with two circles of card. ‘I’ve got a challenge for everyone. You all remember how to make pom-poms right?’ There were lots of nods, a couple of confused glances and a look of alarm from Sarvan.
‘A pom-pom’s a gun right?’ he asked.
Vicky laughed. ‘No, it’s one of these.’ She pulled a sprout decoration from the bag.
‘That’s adorable,’ said Phyllis. ‘Is this what you’re making with my old wool? Well I never.’
‘Is this really appropriate?’ asked Leonora, her hands on her hips.
‘I think it’s enterprising,’ said Arthur. ‘And I’m a bit rusty on making pom-poms but if my memory serves me correctly you just wind wool around these doughnut-shaped pieces of card. I can do that and listen at the same time.’ There were nods of agreement.
‘Fine,’ said Leonora, with a dismissive wave of her hand.
Vicky finished her lap of the table, handing out the remaining wool. ‘Right off you go. See if you can all make at least one pom-pom by the end of the meeting.’
As people settled down Leonora turned over her flip chart with a flourish. ‘Agenda item number one. Blythe.’
Blythe was whispering to Arthur as he’d asked for an update on Eden and the sound of Leonora barking her name made her jump. ‘Yes,’ she said, trying to speed read what was written on the board.
‘Yes, you have secured a celebrity for the opening tonight?’ questioned Leonora.
Before Blythe could reply, Phyllis was already clapping her hands together and scattering the remnants of her mince pie. ‘Oh, how wonderful! Is it Sean Connery? Please say it’s Sean.’ She clapped her hands again and left them together as if in prayer.
‘No, I’m sorry,’ said Blythe.
‘Not Sean.’ Phyllis stuck her bottom lip out so far she looked like Eden when she’d been told she couldn’t have any more sweets.
‘Who is it?’ asked Leonora, looking keen.
Blythe scanned the eyes all homed in on her. Anticipation filled the air. ‘Nobody. I’m sorry but Sam is a bit grumpy about the whole decorations thing…’
‘Grinch-gate!’ said someone further down the table.
‘Precisely. I’m not his favourite person and to be honest I’m not sure he has those sort of contacts anyway.’ She looked at the miserable faces and then at Phyllis, who looked the most dejected. ‘Sorry.’
‘Never mind,’ said Greg. ‘Well done for trying.’
‘I’ll have to sweet-talk the vicar again then.’ Leonora tapped the flip chart. ‘Item number two…’ She went on to talk about timings and Blythe slunk down in her seat and tried to make herself invisible.
Arthur leaned towards her. ‘You did a marvellous job with the Grinch. Ignore them; they’ll get over it.’ He patted her hand, which was comforting.
‘Thanks,’ she whispered.
*
The Holly Cross lights switch-on was obviously a big deal but Blythe felt it didn’t warrant the amount of stress Leonora created. Everyone with lights, which was most of the village, were primed to switch them on at six o’clock precisely. Those on the green were operated by the committee and that was where the big countdown was performed, with most of the residents with properties around the green standing on their doorsteps and relaying the count to someone inside poised to flick the switch at the allotted moment – simple. Or it was until everyone tried to help.
Blythe was doing final checks and stationing her fellow hi-vis-vest-wearing marshals at key points to direct the cars through the village and up to the farm where they could park on the farmer’s field for a suggested fifty pence donation to this year’s charity.
Blythe saw the cottage door open out of the corner of her eye and Sam came across the road. She felt her hackles rise. Now was not a good time for an altercation.
