Page 27 of The Reno
“She’s my neighbour,” I whispered to Lydia.
“Oh, yeah. I forget Pat lives on Evanshore, too.”
Pat adjusted the mic. “Good evening, everyone. It’s lovely to see all your shining faces. Yes, even yours, Peter.” She gave Petera sickly smile. “We’ll move onto your—” she picked up several pieces of paper like they were Noodle’s dog poo—“several proposals after I’ve given an overview of the club’s achievements for the last few months.”
Pat presented the club’s financial successes, which sounded very good, even though I hated numbers. She called for volunteers for the dementia-friendly afternoon tea and announced a whole roster of events: kid’s crafts, yoga, vinyl nights, and the makers market, which I made a mental note to put in the diary because the barbecue sounded amazing.
“Jesus, it never stops here,” I remarked to no one in particular.
“Since Mum and Pat orchestrated their coup, things got busier around here.”
“Now these meetings take forever,” Liam grumbled. “The best kind of committee is a committee of two when one doesn’t turn up.”
I snickered. Liam looked at me curiously.
I shrugged. “What? It was funny.”
“And now, we’ll move on to member proposals. A reminder that if you want to make a proposal, you should submit it a week before the meeting, but we’re not as strict as we used to be, so if it’s late, we’ll do our best to include it,” Pat said, only for some grumbles to break out amidst the grey and balding of the meeting.
“Peter,” Pat barked, “as you’re like a dog with a bone about these proposals, why don’t you come up here and have your say?”
A man dressed in browns and greens stood bolt upright from his seat and approached the stage. His flat cap hid his face untilhe turned around. I never liked to judge someone just by their face, but with Peter, it was inevitable. He resembled Ebenezer Scrooge, with a surly expression and a face lined by frowns and scowls. He stood by the side of the stage, bickering with Pat about something or other, and nattering broke out across the crowd.
“He doesn’t look happy,” I observed as Peter gestured wildly.
Liam huffed. Did that count as a laugh?
Lydia chirped up, “Peter is bitter because he used to be chairman, but Mum, Pat and some of the other ladies managed to swindle him.”
“How?”
Lydia grinned. “They managed to sneak a vote past the committee, which meant a public vote for the chairman. Before, it had been decided by a select few deemed ‘proper members’. It was very cliquey. An old man’s club. Women weren’t allowed in until 2010, let alone be on the committee.”
Liam grunted. “And I bet they wish they’d kept it that way when Pat won by a landslide.”
“Have you got something against women?” I levelled at him.
“No, I haven’t got anything against women, Red.”
“Liam is just grumpy because now everything is a lot—”
“Louder.”
Lydia leaned forward and whisper-shouted at him, “And that’s because women like to communicate, unlike you, you caveman.” She glanced at me. “Mum oversees the subcommittees.”
“There are subcommittees?” I asked, incredulous. I had no idea so much… administration went into runninga social club.
Liam piped up again. “They’ve got subcommittees about the subcommittees.” He was chattier when he had something to complain about.
“There is a grounds committee to keep the beer garden nice and tidy, a wine and beer committee, and a membership committee. Those are the boring ones. Pat and Mum gave those to the old guard to keep them happy. Then, there is the Christmas committee. I head up that one,” Lydia said proudly.
“Lydia the Elf.” Liam shoved another three Wine Gums into his mouth.
I turned to him. “Are you overseeing the snacks? I hope not, or there wouldn’t be any left.” Liam followed my eyeline to the half-finished packet of Wine Gums, his expression souring.
“I haven’t eaten all day.”
“Nutritious. You’re a regular Joe Wicks.”
