Scandal in the Village Read Free Page B

woman Sheila Bissett couldn’t organise the Harvest Festival then she would. After all, it was only a bit of flower-arranging, any fool could do that. She’d taken her shopping home, put it away, remembered to check herself in the mirror in her tiny hall, wrapped the flowers Harriet had given her only two days ago in fresh paper and had sallied forth to Sheila’s house.
    On her way round the green she’d planned her strategy. The best approach would be sympathy to start with. Then she could move on to saying ‘if’, and ‘but’ and ‘of course’ and before she knew it she’d be in charge. Musn’t appear too eager. The door chimes on Sheila’s door had grated her nerves. Some people had no taste. Grandmama had followed Ron in, wincing at the decorations. Honestly, artificial flowers everywhere, whatever next. She bet her last shilling there’d be a lacy cover on the spare toilet roll in the downstairs lavatory. This wasn’t going to prove much of a nut to crack, not for her anyway. She’d ease the way with a cup of coffee.
    While the kettle boiled she found a vase and arranged the flowers with an imaginative flourish. Carrying them into the sitting-room she said to Sheila ‘I’ve brought these, nothing like … fresh flowers is there?’
    She held them close to Sheila and watched her sniff them. ‘They smell gorgeous. Thank you so much. Most kind. Ron … Ronald isn’t much good with flowers.’
    ‘Well, there is a lot of skill in flower-arranging as you know. I’ll put them here on this low table. The coffee won’t be a minute now.’ She twinkled her fingers at Sheila as she left for the kitchen. Mentally rubbing her hands she congratulated herself on the way things were going. Sheila was at her most vulnerable, she could tell that.
    Grandmama carried in the coffee, placed it on the smallest of a nest of repro tables and when she’d settled herself back in her chair she chatted about this and that and gradually came round to how incapacitated Sheila would be for the next few weeks.
    ‘They say I shall be in plaster for at least six weeks.’
    ‘Oh dear. That will mean the end of October then at the earliest.’
    ‘I’m afraid so. Such a nuisance. Ron … Ronald and I were hoping to go on Eurostar to Brussels in a fortnight, right after the Harvest Festival but we shall have to cancel. I couldn’t manage that. At least with a bit of reorganisation I’ll be able to manage the Harvest Festival arrangements though. It’s so aggravating, it being one of the peaks of my flower year.’
    ‘You don’t mean you help with the Harvest Festival as well as all your other activities?’
    ‘I’m the organiser!’
    ‘Well! I’d no idea. But I should have realised, you being so involved with flowers at every turn. I wasn’t here last year you see. Whatever will you do? How shall they manage without you?’
    Sheila put down her cup and said ‘Don’t worry. I’ve got it all worked out. Louise, my married daughter you know …’
    ‘No, I don’t, I haven’t had the pleasure.’
    ‘You must have seen her about, she’s married to the choir master Gilbert.’
    ‘Oh, of course, that’s your daughter. I hadn’t realised.’
    ‘Well, she put all the details on her computer for me last year, so she’s printed it all out again and with one or two alterations I have everything at my fingertips. Ron can drive me round to the church and I shall supervise from the front pew.’
    Grandmama shook her head in admiration. ‘Well, I think that is most extraordinarily brave of you. That is a sacrifice above and beyond the call of duty.’
    Sheila looked puzzled. ‘Above and beyond ... I don’t understand.’
    ‘It’s people like you making those kind of sacrifices who are the back bone of village life.’
    Sheila beamed her pleasure. ‘Oh, I am, where flowers are concerned. I’ve organised the competition marquee for the last three Village Shows, this year’s, last year’s and the one before that which