Page 21 of Fix Them Up
‘Next,’ Peter announced, ‘I propose we ban the insolent makers market that we have used club money to fund –’
‘We aren’t funding it, Peter. We bought a new marquee. The old one had holes in it,’ I heard a woman shout across the room. Peter’s face went bright red.
‘I am speaking, Eman.’
‘Eman is the treasurer,’ Lydia explained.
‘The markets are a public nuisance. Closing the high street on a Saturday? What if there is an emergency, and the police can’t get through?’
‘This is a waste of our time,’ Liam muttered under his breath.
Peter continued, ‘And that doesn’t even mention that we are letting non-members into the club. Now, in my time, this was fine on the odd occasion. But every month? Absurd. We are a members’ club.’ Peter pounded his fist like he was at the pulpit.
I jumped when Liam piped up beside me, ‘People pay thirty quid a year to drink discounted pints of warm ale, Peter. This isn’t Soho House.’
I raised my eyebrows, surprised that Liam had even heard of Soho House.
‘Liam, I would have expected you to understand –’ Peter said, indignant.
Liam stood up. ‘Well, I don’t. Would you get a move on? Some of us want to get home for tea.’
A small, unexpected glimmer of respect grew in my chest. Liam sank back down into his seat, and I’m sure my eyes were bugging out of my head.
‘Those in favour,’ Peter grumbled, and a few hands, maybe three, were thrown up.
Lydia raised her hand. ‘I don’t get his problem. The markets are fun! They only allow independent businesses to rent a stall. I know for a fact his daughter has a jewellery business. He’d rather short-change his own daughter over letting Pat win.’ Lydia shook her head. ‘Unbelievable.’
I grinned. ‘This is kind of fun.’
‘Right?’ Lydia grinned, throwing more popcorn into her mouth.
Pat returned to the mic, and a hush fell over the crowd.
‘Next, we have AOBs and general notices. We have one from Sandra Williams.’ Sandra made her way up onto the stage.
‘What is she going to speak about?’ I leaned towards Lydia, curious.
‘I have a quick one. We need some help.’ Sandra scanned the room. Who was she looking for? Her face lit up when she spotted where I was sitting.
My stomach swooped.
No, she wasn’t – no.
‘Or I should say, my niece, Kat, needs some help.’ Sandra pointed, and my palms began to sweat as every single head swivelled towards me.
Chapter Eight
My face burned like a bushfire. Sandra announced my arrival at Everly Heath like I was the fucking queen on a tour of the UK. ‘My niece, Kat, has moved up here from London. She is renovating a house on Evanshore Road.’
‘Rose’s old place?’ someone shouted out.
‘Yes,’ Sandra said.
‘Didn’t Brian and Jim live there when they were little?’ another voice piped up.
‘Yes, they did,’ Sandra explained. ‘The house has sentimental value to the family, so Kat would like to renovate it. Then, it will be put on the market.’
‘She’s going to do it up and then sell it?’ a woman in her fifties asked.
