"Absolutely vital," Gloria agreed. "The children simply must have access to literature and culture."
"So." Annabelle took a deep breath. "Lily told us that we need to raise approximately fifteen thousand pounds to keep Mrs. Patterson's position for the year."
There was a beat of silence.
"Fifteen thousand?" Daisy's eyes went wide. "That's… that's quite a lot, isn't it?"
"It's an enormous amount," Arty said bluntly.
"But not impossible," Annabelle said quickly, her smile never faltering. "St. Mary's in Little Thornton raised twenty thousand for their roof repair."
"Over three years," Arty pointed out.
"Well, we'll just have to be more creative." Annabelle pulled out her first set of notes. "I've been thinking about this all night. We could do bake sales, obviously. Multiple ones. And sponsored reading challenges for the children. Maybe a book fair? We could ask local authors to donate signed copies…"
She was warming to her theme now, the ideas tumbling out faster than she could write them down. A raffle with donated prizes. A fun run. Maybe a talent show at the village hall?
"A talent show!" Gloria sat up straighter. "Oh, that's perfect. We could make it theatrical. I could direct! Perhaps a medley of scenes from classic literature? The children could perform excerpts from Shakespeare, Dickens. No, you know what would be better? Opera. I’ve always been disappointed with the lack of opera in the area." She glanced at Blossom. "Perhaps Lilah…"
"Lilah doesn’t sing," Blossom said, looking amused. "Plus, she’s in Australia filming for the next three months."
Gloria looked disappointed.
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Arty said, though there was no real sharpness in his tone. "We need to focus on what's actually achievable."
"Everything's achievable with the right attitude," Annabelle said brightly. She meant it, too.
"What about corporate sponsors?" Arty suggested. "Local businesses might be willing to donate."
"Brilliant idea." Annabelle made a note. "We could approach the larger shops in the next town over. Maybe even some of the companies with offices near here."
"I could design flyers," Daisy offered. "I mean, I'm not very good at design, but I'm very good at delivering them. I could make sure every house in Bankton gets one."
"That would be wonderful, Daisy." Annabelle beamed at her. "See? We're already making progress."
They spent the next hour brainstorming, with Annabelle furiously scribbling down every suggestion while simultaneously trying to rein in Gloria's increasingly elaborate theatrical visions and Daisy's somewhat optimistic timeline for raising all the money by next week.
Arty remained the voice of reason throughout, gently pointing out logistical issues that Annabelle's enthusiasm had glossed over. Insurance for public events. Volunteer coordination. The fact that the village hall was already booked every weekend until November.
But Annabelle refused to let anything dampen her spirits. For every problem, there was a solution. For every obstacle, there was a workaround.
"Right," she said eventually, surveying her pages of notes with satisfaction. "I think that's a brilliant start. Let's meet again in two days. Friday afternoon? Same time, same place?"
Everyone nodded agreement.
"And in the meantime, I'd like everyone to think about fundraising ideas. Anything and everything. We'll go through them all on Friday and decide which ones are most feasible, and come up with an actual plan for what we’re going to do." She smiled around the table. "This is going to work. I can feel it."
THE GUITAR MUSIC jerked Annabelle awake at around midnight.
She lay there for a moment in the darkness of her bedroom, blinking at the ceiling and trying to orient herself. Her alarm was set for six. She had school in the morning. Year Three had PEfirst thing, which meant she needed to be alert enough to deal with twenty-eight eight-year-olds and a netball.
The music continued. Electric guitar this time, raw and loud, vibrating through the walls and making her bed feel like it was shaking.
Annabelle closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
It was fine. It was completely fine. Raven was a musician. This was what musicians did. And Annabelle had left that lovely note with the biscuits three days ago, so surely this was just… an oversight? Maybe Raven had forgotten. Or maybe she'd been in the middle of something creative and the time had gotten away from her.
That happened to Annabelle all the time when she was making lesson plans. She'd look up and realize it was midnight and she'd been color-coding worksheets for three hours straight.
