THE VILLAGE HALL MEETING

A short story by Holly Seddon

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Maggie shouldn't still be in the village hall kitchen.

And really, someone else should have made these flower baskets in the first place. She's all thumbs. But no one else volunteered and she felt her own hand rise at the village fayre committee meeting. Again. She's already responsible for most of the baking, counting donations from local businesses and manning the tombola on the day.

This should have been a quick job. But the parent and toddler group took ages to clean up due to "expressionist" potato painting. The bridge club then ran over due to a particularly tense hand between the vicar and the surly retired head teacher.

Someone slipped a disc in Bums and Tums and that was a whole thing. "Not now Maggie," the aerobics teacher said as she tried to get through the door, while a lady of advancing years let forth a sailor's stream of swearwords as she was put on a stretcher.

By the time Maggie bundled her wilting flowers into the kitchen along with those crunchy green bricks (oasis? Is that stuff called oasis?) and the various baskets, she was hours later than anticipated. But here she finally is.

There's only one more booking in the diary - the obliquely named Village Meeting - and she's sure she can potter around in the kitchen at the same time.

Interesting though, she thinks, as she snaps a block of... it is oasis, isn't it... to divide between baskets. She's on just about every village committee, so why hasn't she been invited to this meeting? She's governor of the primary school, treasurer of the football club, head of the Neighbourhood Watch. She gives too much of herself, she knows, but that doesn't mean she wants to be left out.