Chapter Seven
I ended up whipping along Starlight Lane, conscious of the fact that I would be a few minutes late due to Joy holding me up. As my heels clicked along the road, I was also aware – as my daughter had so charitably pointed out – that open-toes sandals with a stiletto heel were not made for walking.
I sped up, wincing slightly as some muddy shingle nearly turned my ankle.
By the time I arrived at the pub, my feet were aching, and I felt decidedly hot under the collar.
A quick glance around revealed one or two people having a coffee and some hikers enjoying an early shandy, but there was no sign of any protestors.
‘Are you looking for someone, Jen?’
I looked across the pub and spotted Polly behind the bar. She was polishing glasses.
‘Hi, Polly,’ I said, somewhat confused. ‘I thought Cilla was holding a protest meeting here. You know, about Starlight Hall.’
‘She is,’ Polly nodded. She stopped shining a wine glass and paused to wince, rubbing her enormous bump.
‘Are you okay?’ I frowned.
‘Yes, but this baby is giving me terrible indigestion. I can’t wait to have him – or her. I’ve had enough of this heartburn and trying to get comfortable at night,’ she grumbled.
‘When are you due?’
‘Not for another month.’ Polly pulled a face. ‘Anyway, if you want to attend the meeting, everyone has gone over to the hall. Cilla reckoned she might turn the air blue if any potential developers turn up, so she didn’t want to put off her punters.’
‘Okay,’ I nodded. ‘I’ll head over there now.’
‘Give ’em hell,’ she grinned, waving her polishing cloth like a banner. ‘Leave our hall alone!’ she sang, using the tune of a Pink Floyd hit.
‘Laters,’ I trilled, giving her a hasty wave.
Fortunately Starlight Hall was literally next door, which was good news for my aching feet.
Inside the building, the meeting was already underway. Cilla looked up as I came in but didn’t pause in her addressing of the twenty-strong crowd. Not a bad turn out, but not a great one either.
‘Sorr-eee,’ I mouthed, slipping into an empty chair.
‘We are the Starlight Society!’ Cilla exhorted, sounding not unlike a politician. She glared at her audience as if they were members of Parliament. ‘We will not be thwarted.’
‘Hear, hear,’ said Hetty Cartwright, who’d positioned herself in the front row.
I noticed that Hetty’s son and daughter-in-law weren’t with her, but then again, Fern Farm and the Strawberry Shed didn’t run itself. Presumably Hetty was also representing Hugo and Linda.
Looking around, I spotted newly divorced Alice who’d recently moved into one of the properties at Jingle Bell Terrace.
We’d often bumped into each other, mostly when buying goods from the farm shop.
Somehow, we’d found ourselves blocking an aisle to chat.
She was one of those easygoing people that you instantly found yourself resonating with.
Alice caught my eye and patted the empty chair beside her.
I nodded my understanding and – ducking like a person not wanting to block the screen at a cinema – shifted from my row to Alice’s.
This earnt a stern look from Cilla, annoyed that I’d not only joined the meeting late, but was now interrupting her flow as I swapped seats.
‘Sorr-eee,’ I mouthed again, before collapsing down next to Alice.
‘We are here today’ – Cilla reminded – ‘to ensure that Starlight Hall remains a community property.’
‘How are you?’ hissed Alice. ‘I gather it was your husband’s funeral yesterday.’
‘Yes,’ I murmured. ‘But I’m okay, thanks.’
‘Sure?’ Her expression was one of concern. ‘You’re very brave.’
‘Not really,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘We weren’t, you know’ – I pulled a face – ‘together together, so…’
‘Ah, so in truth you’re actually glad to see the back of him?’ she whispered, a naughty glint in her eyes.
‘Well…’ I made a seesaw motion with one hand.
‘This is a story that needs a bottle of wine,’ Alice acknowledged.
‘Indeed,’ I agreed.
Cilla glared at the pair of us. Like two naughty schoolchildren, Alice and I visibly shrank back in our seats. Satisfied that she had our attention, Cilla continued.
‘As you all know, the Diocese of Danderbury are the owners of Starlight Hall. Recently, they took back control of the building. Despite protracted discussions with the Parish Council, they went ahead and put the hall up for sale on the open market. Naturally, this is attracting the interest of several developers whose sole aim is to flatten this lovely building-’
‘Lovely building?’ Alice snorted. ‘That’s a matter of opinion.’
As Cilla’s eyes once again pinged our way, Alice quickly turned the snort into a cough.
‘And put houses’ – Cilla’s voice echoed up to the rafters – ‘all over the beautiful grounds.’
‘The grounds are hardly Kew Gardens,’ Alice whispered behind her hand.
This time it was me who snorted and had to turn it into a cough.
‘The purpose of gathering here today is to up our campaign.’ Cilla was now well and truly in her stride.
‘Behind the scenes, certain Starlight Society members have been hard at work. Specialist legal advice has been sought and a governing body has been formed. Our aim is to register Starlight Hall as a community asset and – I hope you will all agree – get some major fundraising going. That way the Starlight Society can negotiate with the Diocese of Danderbury and make a realistic bid to buy this Hall.’
‘Cilla needs to join the real world,’ whispered Alice. ‘Buying Starlight Hall will take more than selling a few cakes at a fete.’
‘Indeed,’ I agreed.
‘So, what do you all say?’ Cilla challenged the audience.
But before anyone could answer, the hall’s main door creaked back on its hinges. Heads swivelled to see who was belatedly joining the meeting.
‘I would like to add’ – said a familiar voice – ‘may the best man win.’
Cilla glared at the newcomer.
‘And I would counter’ – she spat – ‘may the best woman win.’
‘Flaming flip flops,’ Alice breathed, as the newcomer made his way over to Cilla. ‘I wouldn’t kick him out of my bed.’
As the darkhaired man strolled towards her, Cilla suddenly appeared to be chewing a wasp.
‘Why are you here?’ she demanded.
The man came to a stop beside her and glanced at the now captivated audience. His eyes briefly rested on mine before addressing everyone.
‘Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,’ he said politely.
His voice might have been as rich and velvety as a black forest gateau, but those green eyes held a steely determination.
‘Just to let everyone know that my bid has now been placed with the Diocese of Danderbury and I’m confident it will be accepted.
On 1st August, all bidders’ solicitors will be informed of the outcome.
A little bird told me that Cilla was hosting an emergency meeting this morning, so I thought it only right and proper to attend myself and bring you up to date in person.
As a mark of respect, I will not be building houses on this land.
Instead, I will replace this building with an attractive block of apartments which shall retain this building’s name – Starlight Hall.
The grounds will remain but be professionally landscaped, providing a sizeable communal garden and outside space.
I see this as a gesture of compromise between what the village wants and what I, as a developer, wish to do. ’
‘Compromise my arse,’ Cilla snapped. ‘The Starlight Society won’t be backing down now or any time soon. Consider yourself in a bidding war.’
‘Gordon Bennett,’ hissed Alice, shaking her head. ‘What does she think she’s going to buy this hall with – the chocolate chips from a cake stall?’
‘Maybe she could cash in on Hetty. Promote her as the next Psychic Sally.’
‘Yeah,’ Alice agreed. ‘Get her a slot on Loose Women. I can see it now. Ruth Langsford asking what Hetty’s thoughts are on climate change. Then Hetty declaring we’re in for a run of harsh winters before producing her crystal ball which – it transpires – is a snow globe.’
We silently convulsed.
Cilla declared the meeting over, but then said if everyone made their way over to the pub, a free brandy was on the house.
‘We need to gird our loins and prepare for battle,’ was her parting comment.
‘I don’t know about you’ – Alice gave me a sly look – ‘but that man can gird my loins any time he likes.’
‘He is… quite attractive,’ I acknowledged.
‘Quite?’ Alice gasped. ‘Jen, he’s hot.’ She pretended to fan herself. ‘Who the heck is he?’
‘Liam Lancaster,’ I muttered.