Page 25 of All Wrapped Up
I opened my notebook and began working my way through our extensive list, explaining the details of some of the ideas if their purpose or connection to autumn wasn’t immediately obvious.
‘I love the craft workshop ideas,’ Lizzie said keenly. ‘I can take those on and run them in the gallery so long as the scheduling doesn’t clash with what I’ve already got booked.’
‘Thank you, Lizzie.’ I nodded, practically wilting with relief that at least one thing was going to come off. ‘That would be fantastic.’
‘Wynbridge has no finer craft tutor,’ Jemma chimed in.
‘And the gallery, overlooking the square, will be the perfect space for the sessions,’ I further said. ‘We can definitely work around what you already have lined up, so we’ll get together to discuss that.’
I could also imagine people making leaf garlands to hang around the square and knitting pumpkins in the café next door. That would make it a proper social occasion with an opportunity to chat and enjoy Jemma’s bakes as well as contribute. I had seen posters on display around town from a local yarn bombing group so it would be great if they got involved.
‘And I’ll ask my husband, Tom, about the town hall availability for some of the other things,’ said Jemma, typing notesinto her phone. ‘He works for the council, so he might have an idea as to where the spring bulb planting could take place, too.’
That was one of my favourite ideas and I hoped it would have a genuine whole community appeal if it could happen somewhere in the local park. Assuming enough people got behind it and I could talk someone into either donating the bulbs or convince everyone who wanted to plant some, to pay for them, of course. That was another issue to iron out…
‘Well, I think this all sounds wonderful,’ beamed Bella and the general nod of heads showed that most of the select gathering were at least considering it.
‘Yes, yes, it’s all very twee and wholesome, I’m sure,’ Jason, who was still at the bar, nastily piped up, and it was obvious that he wasn’t part of that group. ‘But you’re going to need hordes of volunteers to pull it off and as you can see,’ he cast his eyes around and spread his hands wide, for dramatic effect, ‘no one’s really bothered about it after all.’
‘Those of us who are here are bothered,’ said Lizzie, rallying to the cause. ‘And we can all contribute something.’
‘But not enough to make it the great seasonal spectacular this newcomer is suggesting,’ he huffed.
I looked at the scarce faces and as much as I hated to agree with him, I had a horrible feeling that he was right. I had been hoping to talk to business owners who might be willing to host food and drink nights, landowners who had known Moses and who might want to get involved with the all-important pumpkin picking and carving competitions, the knitters who loved yarn bombing opportunities and readers who might enjoy an autumn themed book club…
Disappointingly, none of those people had turned up, and even though a few names had been suggested regarding hosting events, if the people behind those names and venues weren’t in attendance, then was therereallyany chance that they’d want to be involved?
In spite of Lizzie’s insistence that the festival was wanted, practically no one had turned out to support its inception and that lack of eagerness and commitment didn’t bode well for the future of the event. Perhaps the pumpkin auction Moses had initially envisaged and a couple of crafting workshops, would be all Ash and I would end up having to manage after all.
‘It’ll be a health and safety nightmare with this few of you,’ Jason continued, hammering his point home.
‘Right,’ said Evelyn, opening the hatch in the bar that separated her from the customers, ‘that’s your lot. I think we’ve heard more than enough negativity from you.’
‘And who even are you to the town?’ Jason said angrily to me as he hopped down from his stool and fixed me with a glare I didn’t think I had done anything to deserve. ‘Half of us have never laid eyes on you before and yet here you are, swanning in and trying to take over as if you own the place. I daresay you never even met Moses, did you?’
I felt my eyes prickle with tears of embarrassment and my cheeks flame.
‘Ignore him,’ said Lizzie as he banged through the door and into the square with Evelyn in hot pursuit.
But how could I ignore him? My unknown status as a Wynbridge local had been one of the first things I’d flagged, when she’d asked me to take the festival on. Lizzie might not have acknowledged it, but why should anyone listen to mewhen they had no idea who I was or, come to that, knew how much I loved autumn? I should never have been seduced into saying yes as a result of Lizzie’s honeyed words and my own vivid imagination.
‘Take no notice, Clemmie,’ Lizzie said more loudly when I didn’t respond.
‘He doesn’t talk for the rest of us,’ said Jemma.
‘Though he does have a point,’ said a woman who had been listening throughout the meeting, but hadn’t spoken up before. ‘I’m not saying you’re not up to the job, my love, but I don’t recognise you either.’
‘I live in a cottage outside of town,’ I told her, the words catching. ‘I’ve been there about a year and a half, but have kept myself to myself while I was… renovating it.’
And I would be keeping myself to myself again after tonight.
‘Do you mean the cottage on Lark Drove?’ The woman frowned.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Rowan Cottage. Do you know it?’
‘Vaguely,’ she shrugged.
‘I’ve given him a piece of my mind,’ Evelyn bristled as she marched back in. ‘Don’t pay any heed to anything he says, Clemmie. He’s all bluster and no substance.’
