Chapter 11
With a head full of plans, and a heart heavy with dashed hopes and dreams, Cath decided to keep herself busy and make a cake.
Something creative and comforting. She flicked through the pages of her baking book looking for inspiration and came up with a coffee and walnut; happy that she had all the ingredients in her store cupboard.
In tandem with the simple acts of weighing out, sifting and beating, her thoughts began to align more logically. It was already late October, and this community event was not going to organise itself. They needed to get going and fast.
With the two halves of the sponge now baking in the oven, the washing up done, and warm, sugary-sweet aromas filling the kitchen, she wondered if she ought to invite the group around for afternoon coffee?
Cake, with the ulterior motive of discussing the next phase of her plan.
It was Sunday afternoon, nearing three p.m., the village stores now shut, and lunch in the various households most likely over. She fired off a message and waited.
By the time the two sponges had cooled on the rack and been creamed back together with delicious coffee butter-icing, all five of the super clubbers had replied.
Four of them were due within half an hour, and Will, who’d finally responded from a remote hillside in the middle of the Cheviots, was on his way back from a cycling trip and would arrive in the village in around an hour.
*
They were standing in her cottage kitchen with coffee mugs to hand, the cake slices having been polished off within minutes.
‘Watch out, guys, the MAMIL’s here,’ said Lily, with a hint of mirth.
‘What?’ queried Dan.
‘What do you mean, Lils?’ Cath looked out to the garden, expecting to spot some kind of warm-blooded furry creature – stoat, rabbit, squirrel? – sat on her patio staring back at her.
‘Mammal?’ asked Nikki, her forehead frowning in confusion.
‘Middle Aged Man in Lycra,’ Lily deadpanned.
And in through the back door strolled Will in full cycling Lycra, all tightly stretched against his muscles, oh blimey, Cath wasn’t sure where to look.
He’d snuck in the back gate, with the intention of propping his bike out of sight against the cottage’s rear wall.
It was an expensive road model, after all.
MAMIL … Cath stifled a snort, whilst Nikki almost spat out her coffee. Andreas and Dan were now in fits of giggles. ‘Oh, never heard that one, but I love it,’ said Dan.
‘Hi, all,’ said Will.
‘Hey, Will,’ said Lily.
‘Hi.’ Cath felt suddenly shy.
‘Umm, why all the laughter? Dare I ask?’ He quirked a dark eyebrow.
‘Just our Lily, apparently you’re a MAMIL,’ advised Nikki.
‘Ah, right, well I have heard that one recently. Pretty accurate, I suppose. Comes with the hobby, and having the right the gear.’ He took it all in his stride, with a warm sense of humour.
‘He’s certainly got the right gear and it’s all on show,’ added Andreas, to another burst of the giggles.
‘Coffee? Cake. I’ve made a coffee and walnut,’ Cath offered, trying to calm things down and shift her own thoughts to safer ground.
‘Both, and that sounds delicious.’
‘It is,’ confirmed Andreas, a stray crumb still perched on his lower lip.
‘Just what I need after a thirty-miler.’
‘Wow, that’s some effort,’ said Dan, impressed.
‘Just the usual.’ Will was pretty blasé about it.
‘In fact, I think I could manage another slice of that, lovely,’ said Dan. He indicated the errant crumb to his partner.
As Cath deftly sliced more cake, she remembered how the Nibbles and Natter session had been so productive and supportive. She was absolutely thrilled that the whole supper group were engaged and on board, but she also realised this was just the start of it all.
She passed the slices over and poured a fresh coffee for Will from the cafetiere. ‘Right, well, I have an ulterior motive in bringing you all over here.’
‘Ugh, you mean it wasn’t for our scintillating company, after all?’ said Nikki.
‘I knew there was more to it,’ said Dan.
‘Of course that was a big part of it. But, the other evening,’ Cath continued, undeterred, ‘we all agreed the community Christmas lunch event was a good idea, and that’s brilliant, but there’s a whole lot of planning to do.
And initially, there’s one crucial thing we need to decide on, and that is where.
’ She wanted to pick the brains of these fantastic people with the local knowledge.
‘Hmm, I take it you’re thinking about holding this event in the village?
’ Will began. ‘The pub would need to charge per head if we held it there. Though it’s great in there, that’d work out expensive.
And are we charging for this? Would many come if we did?
And I hate to point out the obvious, but none of our homes are big enough, or ovens large enough, to take this on. ’
‘Yeah.’
‘Hmm.’
A few seconds of silence fell over the room. Had they in fact been getting carried away with themselves and their big ideas, and already hit a ruck in the road?
‘There are a couple of large halls in Kirkton,’ Lily mentioned.
‘Possibly, but I bet they’ll already have events laid on for Kirkton folk at that time of the year,’ warned Dan.
‘And I really do want to do something here in Tilldale, for our villagers first and foremost. Give our little local community a boost,’ added Cath.
‘We do have a village hall …’ broached Nikki.
That had been one of Cath’s thoughts. She’d walked past the seemingly unused stone building many times.
‘One that’s cold and has dodgy electrics. Can’t think why it’s hardly ever used,’ Andreas reminded them, with a frown.
‘It was the village school up until twenty years ago, so the kitchen and ovens are likely to be big,’ added Dan, more hopefully.
‘If they still work,’ Nikki responded pragmatically.
It wasn’t sounding that hopeful, but Cath wasn’t one to fall at the first hurdle.
‘Well, let’s go and take a look at the hall firstly.
See what the facilities are like, and suss out the kitchen, before we run away with ourselves.
’ Cath was sensibly slowing things down – much like her and Will, she mused ironically – even though, in this case, she felt a lift of possibility running through her veins.
‘And we ought to check out a couple of dates that might work for the event. Make sure it’s not booked out, or anything?’ Lily mooted.
‘Ah well, that’s easy – it’s never booked out. It hasn’t seen a party or an event for at least five years. We’ve not seen a light on in the place for a long, long while, have we, Andreas?’ Dan asked.
‘Oh, that sounds ominous. It’ll be in need of a good clean-up then,’ Cath observed.
‘Bet it’s full of cobwebs and spiders. Yuk.’ Lily pulled a face.
‘Okay, so we ought to check it out, at least. See what we’re dealing with, or if it’s even suitable,’ said Will.
‘Definitely,’ agreed Cath, before taking a soothing sip of coffee.
‘Yeah, that’ll get things moving. Good idea, Will,’ agreed Dan.
As Cath munched her last piece of cake, she wondered if they might already have bitten off more than they could chew.
*
The huge old metal key turned in the lock with a creak, then a clunk. Cath shifted the circular cast-iron handle, and then pushed the heavy oak door.
‘Here goes!’ she announced, feeling a sense of trepidation.
All six of the supper clubbers had gathered for a ‘recce’ of the proposed venue for their community Christmas lunch, and were now stood under the stone plaque, set above the threshold that read 1872, the year it had been built and originally purposed as the village school.
Veronica Manners, the hall committee’s chair and upstanding member of the community, had been surprised to receive the call from Will.
She’d informed him that the hall hadn’t been booked out since 2020, ‘a casualty of Covid’ – and Cath wondered, perhaps now a victim of neglect – which gave them all some misgivings.
But if they really wanted to hold this event within the village, which they’d all felt was important, then there weren’t really any other alternatives, financially or size-wise.
A musty smell hit them as they entered, along with some wisps of stray cobwebs.
Cath, being the first in, swiftly pushed a strand away as it tickled her cheek.
The shaft of light from the open doorway illuminated the trillions of dust motes drifting through the stale air.
Crikey, it’d certainly need a good airing and sweeping, was the first thing that came to her mind, and they hadn’t even got past the reception area.
As they stepped into the dark-blue carpeted hallway, through a glass-windowed swing door, a noticeboard faced them with an array of old posters, curling at the edges, detailing events long past. A talk on rural agriculture by local farmer Wesley Trotter – which made Cath and Nikki snigger, what a surname for a farmer – and the Tilldale WI meeting, first Thursday of the month at seven p.m. followed by tea and biscuits.
The WI group in the village had been disbanded years ago, so she’d heard.
There was nothing at all that appeared to be recent.
Dan enlightened the team that the last classes to be held here were carpet bowls and yoga, not at the same time of course though that might have proved interesting, which had both now moved to Kirkton’s purpose-built new and well-heated community centre.
Tilldale’s hall had evidently not been used for events for many a year.
Its use dwindling seemingly long before the Covid pandemic, though that appeared to be the final straw.
They opened a door and peeked into one of the original classrooms. Desks were piled on top of one another to one side of the room, along with stacks of tiny grey plastic chairs.
Wow, there was still an old-fashioned black chalkboard set on one wall, a wooden padded hand-held eraser still there at its base, and a half-piece of white chalk next to it.