Ten
Clare arrived at the village hall panting – in London she would have been able to catch a cab if she was running late. The notices advertising the planning consultation had been up for a week. Counting ten cars in Richard’s field, she wondered whether those drivers realized how difficult it would be to use the hall if Hastings won. Given the narrow road, on-street parking would be challenging.
Inside, it was busy. There was a gentle hum of conversation, but no laughter. People were fidgeting, chewing their fingers and tapping their feet. Clare recognized the same atmosphere she’d experienced at employment tribunals. She helped set out another row of chairs, all the while hearing the fire door hiss open to admit more people. Shortly before 7 p.m., Anna arrived with Ivy and joined Clare in the front row of seats. ‘Where’s Roger?’ whispered Clare.
‘Not coming,’ replied Anna.
‘Has Richard got to him?’
‘No. He wants it all to go away. Like he said in the pub, he doesn’t want the village to split.’
‘It’s too late for that,’ said Clare. She gave Anna a pained look. ‘Roger’s not trying to stop you fighting this, is he?’
‘No,’ said Anna, settling herself back in her chair. ‘He knows he can’t.’
By seven o’clock, most of the seats were full and people were standing at the back of the room. Searching for faces she wanted to see, Clare realized there was a three-way split. Those in favour: Richard, his brother and their hangers-on; the wishful thinkers like Roger, and those against. But within the latter group were a silent opposition who, with Richard as their landlord, couldn’t risk publicly opposing him. She wished she could paint in the missing faces of Trish, Rose and her husband George. Prosecco and Prose, the Smugglers Inn and the village shop – also run by Rose and George – were the three focal points of the village, and Clare was concerned that people might take their absence tonight as support for Richard.
Clare put her hands on her hips and a hush fell. She felt the same surge of adrenalin, which rose within her like a powerful wave, lifting her as she walked into an employment tribunal. She looked out at the sea of faces, picking out the few she knew, realizing with a pang that her mother would probably have known everyone.
‘Thanks for coming,’ she said. ‘This is serious. Our village is being threatened.’ She paused, not for effect, but because she realized the implication of what she’d just said. She was accepting her role as the person who would spearhead this battle. At this rate, her whole sabbatical was going to be spent in Devon.
Clare was outlining Richard’s plans when she heard the door creak open. Hoping it might be Trish or Rose, she glanced over. Sam. Blast! Richard wasn’t brave enough to come himself, so he’d sent his spy. Everyone liked Sam. No one would question why he was here. Sam didn’t fool her, but she would be unpopular if she tried to ban him, so she held her tongue. He put up a hand in apology, and mimed a creeping, walking action, his shoes squeaking on the floorboards, further fanning the flames of Clare’s temper. He walked in front of the audience, took Clare’s vacant seat and threw her a smile, which she didn’t respond to. He wasn’t winning her over that easily.
She returned to her speech, aware of Sam’s eyes on her just a few feet away. He stretched out his long legs, placed his elbows on them and leaned on his arms, as if emphasizing how much he was concentrating. He was grinning at her, toying with her, like he used to when she worked in the pub. Convinced he was trying to distract her, she scolded herself: be professional. It’s not the first time you’ve encountered a good-looking man at work.
‘Now I’ve explained everything, let’s have a show of hands. Who’s against this idea?’ asked Clare. A sea of hands shot up. Clare threw a triumphant look at Sam. She’d like to see Richard’s face when his brother reported the strength of feeling against his plans. ‘So, what do we do? Any ideas?’ asked Clare.
‘Form an action group,’ said Anna.
Ivy’s hand was up. She was waving furiously, like a schoolgirl confident they could answer a tricky question. Clare nodded.
‘We must ask ourselves if this is ethical. We don’t want to split the village.’ Clare felt her heart sink and wondered if, given Sam’s presence, Ivy – wary of Section 21 – didn’t want to be seen as anti. Was she about to lose Fred’s support too?
‘I don’t agree with his ideas,’ said Ivy, ‘but Richard has as much right to his point of view as we all do.’ Clare struggled with her temper. As always, Ivy was being generous and Clare was trying to refrain from countering that as Richard didn’t give a damn about them, why should anyone in the village gave a damn about him?
‘He doesn’t give a fig what happens to my business,’ shouted a male voice. ‘How many people will want to buy an ice cream to eat on a beach that stinks of chicken shit? Why should I care about his views?’
‘But we must act ethically,’ said Ivy.
Clare used a measured, lawyerly tone. ‘I don’t think he’s acting ethically, Ivy. Richard is threatening our way of life, and in a lot of cases, our livelihoods.’
‘And our property values,’ piped up a woman’s voice. Clare tracked the voice to the speaker, recognizing Gina from last week. Gina had the baby strapped to her chest in a sling.
Clare saw backs straighten, heard a few sharp intakes of breath. Several hands flew up to cover mouths.
‘What about the chickens?’ shouted someone from the back. ‘He doesn’t care about the chickens. That’s not ethical, Ivy!’
‘Or what happens to their waste. I’m on a borehole ...’
There were so many people speaking at once, it was impossible to decipher what anyone was saying. Clare’s heart sank. She could sense their fear, but she needed people to concentrate and agree an action plan.
She lifted her voice. ‘Let’s do this one at a time.’ As she waited for quiet, she was irritated to notice Sam smiling. How she would love to drag him to the door and eject him. Yes, he was going to enjoy reporting this part of the meeting: lots of angry people, but chaos, no plan.
‘We’re all tense because we’re frightened. Most of you rely on tourists and this would be damaging. Some of you are more exposed than others.’ She looked pointedly at Sam. His cottages were further up the hill and unaffected by the sight or smell; his orchard wouldn’t suffer the fate which awaited her mother’s.
The meeting lasted another twenty minutes before Clare wrapped it up. Wanting to show that there was a plan, she said, ‘Here’s what I suggest we do. We form an action group to investigate how we can get Richard to change his mind. Anyone with time to help please have a word with me or Anna after the meeting.’ She was keen to cement Anna to the cause.
People started gathering coats and bags and crowding around the exit. Sam remained sitting, smiling, his eyes raking through the crowd. She wanted to wipe that cocky expression from his face. Sam would be off to report on the meeting and he would have noticed certain influential villagers were absent. His wretched brother had parts of Brambleton by the throat. But as a lawyer, she accepted the facts: she could only fight with the weapons available, and that didn’t include Rose or Trish. She would set the action group to work, then get up to London to pack up her flat.