Chapter Seven
The committee meeting was scheduled for Wednesday afternoon at Blossom's café and bookshop.
Annabelle arrived fifteen minutes early, armed with so many plans her brain could barely contain them and about a million sheets of paper with scribbled ideas on them.
The café smelled like coffee and cinnamon rolls, and Blossom was wiping down tables when Annabelle came in.
"You're the first one here." Blossom grinned. "Tea? Coffee? I’ve got some nice iced buns in."
"Tea would be lovely, thanks." Annabelle claimed the large corner table and began arranging her papers. "I thought I'd get set up before everyone arrives. I've got quite a lot to go through."
"I can see that." Blossom eyed the pile of documents with amusement. "Are you planning to raise library funds or launch a space program?"
Annabelle laughed. "Just the library funds for now. Though if we had any rocket scientists in Bankton, I'd definitely put them on the committee."
The shop bell rang and Gloria swept in dramatically, wearing what appeared to be a vintage evening gown despite it being three in the afternoon. "I'm here! I've come prepared with ideas. Spectacular ideas. The village will be absolutely enchanted."
Annabelle's smile didn't waver, though she caught Blossom’s warning look. "That's wonderful, Gloria. I can't wait to hear them."
Daisy bounced through the door next, nearly colliding with Arty, who'd been holding it open for her. "Sorry! Sorry! Oh, Arty, hello! Are you on the committee too? How exciting! This is going to be brilliant!"
"Apparently I'm on the committee," Arty said, shooting Annabelle a look that was equal parts amused and resigned. "Blossom volunteered me."
"You were sitting right there when she asked," Blossom called from behind the counter. "And you said yes."
"I said I'd think about it."
"You're here, aren't you?"
Arty sighed and pulled out a chair. "Fair point."
Once everyone had settled with their drinks and Gloria had rearranged herself three times to find the most dramatic seating position, Annabelle stood up.
"Right." She clasped her hands together. "Thank you all so much for coming. I know everyone's incredibly busy, and I really appreciate you taking the time to help save our school library."
"It's a worthy cause," Blossom said warmly.
"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 PE first 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.
The guitar hit a particularly aggressive chord progression.
Annabelle yawned. She was tired. Properly tired since it was the middle of the week. But she wasn't angry. She didn't do angry very well anyway, it always felt uncomfortable, like wearing someone else's shoes.
She was just… disappointed?
That felt closer to the truth.
She'd hoped, genuinely hoped, that Raven would have understood. The note had been so friendly. The biscuits had been delicious. Surely that had communicated everything that needed communicating?
But perhaps Raven hadn't seen the note. Or perhaps she'd misunderstood. Or perhaps, and this was the thought Annabelle liked best, she simply didn't realize how late it was or how thin the cottage walls were.
Which meant this was a simple communication issue, easily resolved with a bit of gentle explanation.
Annabelle sat up and reached for her dressing gown.
It was hanging over the chair by her window, the soft pink fabric covered in tiny embroidered flowers.
She pulled it on over her pajamas, the ones with the cheerful cartoon dinosaurs that last year’s Year Three class had clubbed together to buy her for her birthday last year.
The hallway was dark and cold. Annabelle fumbled for her slippers and made her way downstairs, through her own cottage, and out the front door.
The night air was crisp and still. Above her, the stars were sharp against the black sky. The guitar music was louder out here, spilling from Raven's cottage in waves.
Annabelle crossed the small strip of shared garden that separated their front doors and knocked.
No answer.
She knocked again, louder this time.
Still nothing.
For an instant she contemplated opening the door but then remembered what had happened last time. Her face got hot.
On the third knock, the music abruptly stopped.
There was a moment of silence, and then footsteps. The door swung open.
Raven stood there, looking thoroughly confused. Her dark hair was pulled back in a messy knot, and she was wearing black jeans and a faded band t-shirt. In one hand, she still held her guitar.
"Hi!" Annabelle said brightly, stifling another yawn. "I'm so sorry to bother you this late."
Raven blinked at her. Then her gaze traveled down to take in the dinosaur pajamas and pink dressing gown.
"I just wanted to…" Annabelle continued, determined to stay pleasant and reasonable. "Well, I'm not sure if you got my note from the other day? The one with the biscuits?"
"I got it." Raven's voice was flat.
"Oh! Wonderful! That's great." Annabelle smiled.
"It's just, well, the music is still quite loud at night, and I've got school in the morning.
The children are wonderful, obviously, but they do require a certain amount of energy, and I'm finding it a bit hard to sleep with all the, um, the guitar?
Which is beautiful, by the way. You're incredibly talented. But maybe just… not quite so late?"
She was rambling now, she could hear herself doing it, but something about the way Raven was staring at her was making her nervous.
"I teach Year Three," Annabelle added, because apparently she couldn't stop talking. "They're seven and eight years old. Lovely age, really, but very energetic, and tomorrow we have PE first thing, which is always a bit chaotic, so I really do need to be at my best…"
"Right," Raven said.
"So if you could maybe wrap up soon?" Annabelle gave her most winning smile, the one that usually worked on parents during difficult conferences. "That would be absolutely brilliant. I'd really appreciate it."
There was a long pause.
"Right," Raven said eventually.
"Oh, thank you so much! That's very kind of you." Annabelle beamed. "And again, I'm so sorry for bothering you. I know it's late. Or early? I suppose it depends on how you look at it."
She was doing it again. Babbling.
"Right," Raven repeated.
"Okay! Well. Goodnight!" Annabelle gave a little wave and turned to go.
"Oh shit," Raven said.
Annabelle turned back. "What?"
"Nothing," said Raven, but she was obviously lying, the lie settling across her face as she glanced back into her living room at the phone balanced on the mantlepiece. The phone that had a blinking green light.
"Nothing?" Annabelle asked, suddenly concerned.
"Nothing," Raven said. "Um. Nothing. I’ll stop playing. Thank you. Good night."
And as Annabelle walked back across the garden, she thought how nice it was that Raven had thanked her.
And then she thought how right she’d been that being nice and kind and gentle was the way to go.
And finally she thought that perhaps now she and Raven were going to be friends.
All it had taken was a smile and a little time.