Charlie raised her voice over a dispute about the ratio of milk bottles to homemade pies in the fridges, trying to gather everyone’s attention. She suggested going around and introducing ourselves.
“We all know each other,” Galoshes said. “And we know who you two are, too. Now, on to the bike parking. We need more of it. Lots more of it.”
“Hear hear,” said a man who I suspect runs the island bike rental shop.
“Butwedon’t know whoyouare,” Charlie said, a little louder.
“You’ll figure it out,” Galoshes said. “There aren’t many people on this island. I think we can all agree we should drop the mustard from the condiments.”
“Just because Bill’s not here—” someone began, but Charlie was talking again.
“I have an agenda,” she said. “I’d really appreciate if we could stick to it. And I’d like you each to introduce yourselves.”
“No offense,” Galoshes began. She struck me as a “no offense” type of woman. A “someone has to say it” sort of woman. “But we do things the Ormer way at these meetings and we’re not about to change that just because you’re here for a bit.”
“Here for a bit?” Charlie said.
She looked at me. I shrugged. I’d vote for letting this play out. It would be interesting to know how these meetings usually operated anyway, and, if I’m totally honest, concentrating on not wanting a cider was taking quite a lot of my bandwidth. Charlie rolled her eyes at me, and I felt a twinge of guilt for not chipping in, but my fresh start is meant to be about focusing on me. I’m not here to help Charlie out.
In the end, it was Doc Laurry who stepped in.
“Let’s show the Charlies an Ormer welcome, now,” he said, with warm but unmistakable authority.
“What, get ’em to walk behind Baptiste’s horse when he’s let her have apples?” someone said, to a chorus of titters.
“Notthatkind of Ormer welcome. Let’s all introduce ourselves and remember that the island needs new blood, and the Nicoles need help. Rosie’s parents asked me to look out for that girl and look out for her I shall. So, hello. I’m Doc Laurry. Island GP, Deputy for Health and Emergency Services, herbalist, experimental baker.”
He looked pointedly at the woman beside him, who was short, apple-cheeked and wearing a large suede cowboy hat.
“Kim,” she said gruffly. “Sheep farmer over on Patchwork Farm, Little Ormer, over the ridge. Deputy for Education, Environment, Agriculture and Sea Fisheries. I supply sheep’s cheese, at the moment, and the wool for Galoshes’s knitwear.”
Karyn the chocolatier came next, with a nervous glance at Galoshes. Then Gintaras the basket-weaver introduced himself, then Jerry the milkman—the island’s sole constable, and Deputy for Law Enforcement—and thenanotherKaren, this one possibly more hostile than the first, and around it went, every government role more impressive sounding than the last. I belatedly realized I should really have written these down.
Charlie began handing out agendas as the last few committee members introduced themselves. Galoshes wouldn’t even take hers. Charlie blinked down at her in astonishment, and then eventually placed the sheet of paper very deliberately beside Galoshes’s parsnip gavel.
“Ooh, deliveries to islanders!” someone said, reading from the agenda. “I like that idea.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Galoshes snapped. “Rog is run off his feet as it is, delivering the imported stuff.”
Charlie suggested that someone other than Rog could do our deliveries. The room fell silent. Everyone regarded Charlie with horror. Galoshes slowly removed her pink-framed glasses and placed them on top of Charlie’s agenda.
“Look. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re still an outsider here—you don’t know how things work. Trust is earned on Ormer. We don’t just hand it out to strangers,particularlyones who don’tnecessarilydeserve to be here.”
A glance was exchanged with Karyn. (Or maybe Karen.) Then they all looked at me.
“Sorry?” I said, feeling I might have missed something.
“We’re on your side,” Galoshes said, at a volume that might possibly have been intended as a whisper, if I was being really generous.
Charlie was turning red. I tried very hard not to feel sorry for her, I really did. Walls up, don’t look directly at her, think about something else.
Deciding not to care about other people is not as easy as I thought it would be.
“It isn’t a competition. We’re hoping to get the shop to a point where both of us will be able to stay on,” I said.
“Only one of you deserves the job, though, really. Rosie only meant to offer it to one person,” Galoshes said.
“What makes you so sure that person was Jones, and not me?” Charlie said, in her cheeriest tone. She was breathing a bit too fast; the papers in her hands were trembling.
