Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83343 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
George isn’t happy with me taking over the place for the next hour. I offered to work the rest of my shift for free, but I really sold him on the idea because he’d have a captive audience of customers, ready to put down their money as soon as our meeting finished, which I’d timed to coincide with the pub opening and the start of my shift.
I lift myself up onto the bar, grab a wineglass and tap it with the knife I use to cut lemons, trying to get everyone’s attention.
“Thank you all for coming,” I say as all eyes face me. “I thought we needed a meeting to discuss Vincent Cove’s plans for Crompton House.” I ignore the murmurs coming from the crowd. “As you know, he’s submitted his plans but permission hasn’t been granted yet. The deadline for objections is this Friday. That doesn’t give us long to make a plan.”
“What are you thinking?” asks Basil.
“Well, I thought we should all repeat a similar argument. That way the local authority are more likely to take us seriously. If we take a scattergun approach, we’re easier to ignore. We need to be joined up. First, I think we need to talk about the loss of jobs.”
“But he’s going to keep some gardeners on, and everyone else can apply for positions in the hotel,” Rupe says.
“Exactly,” I reply. “Horticulture isn’t some kind of unskilled work. It’s a passion. A calling. It takes training and heart and—”
“Honestly, I don’t mind a change,” Amarjit says. “If he wants to pull me off gardening and have me unloading luggage and ferrying it about, I’m happy as Larry. I heard you can make good money from tips on top of your salary.”
“Okay, but that’s just you,” I say with a little more bite in my tone than I intend. “We don’t all feel like that.”
“He told me I’m likely to be kept on if I’m prepared to do some training on the new air-conditioning system,” Rio says, so enthusiastic, you’d think he’d won the lottery.
“The way I see it,” Rio continues, “with the earl, you never knew whether you were going to get paid at the end of the week. He was either going to cark it or run out of money.” There’s a collective intake of breath at the mention of the earl’s death. “The place is a shit show. My missus went in the house a few months ago to give him a pie she’d baked and said the place was empty inside. Like he’d moved out already. I reckon he sold all the furniture trying to keep this place running. This way, at least we all know we’re going to get paid at the end of the month. This guy Vincent’s a millionaire by all accounts.”
“I heard he was America’s first trillionaire,” Mindy shouted out.
“There’s no such thing,” Rio says, and everyone starts talking over each other.
I try to get control of the meeting again, but no one is listening to me clinking on the wineglass.
“Hey, everyone, let’s calm down,” I shout. “This meeting is important. People are going to lose their jobs and the roofs over their heads.”
“I can’t bloody wait,” Chris, my neighbor, says. “Hopefully any new place will have central heating that bloody works.”
“And will allow pets,” Sacha says. “It makes no sense that I have ivy growing through my kitchen window, but they won’t let me have a sausage dog.”
“It’s the poo, Sacha,” I say. “The earl never wanted it in his gardens.”
“Well, the earl is gone now,” Rio says.
Tears gather at the back of my throat. How can they be so flippant? And they all seem focused on their own needs rather than the bigger picture. Crompton represents hundreds of years of history. It needs to be saved.
“Kate, why don’t you tell us what your idea is if Vincent doesn’t get planning,” Basil asks.
“Thanks, I’m glad you asked. Well, like you said, Mindy, Vincent’s very, very rich. He has family . . .” Where did he say his aunt and uncle were from? “Locally. I think we convince him to renovate the property and keep it as a country retreat for himself.”
“But he bought it as a business,” someone says, though I can’t make out who it was. “He’s not going to keep it. Especially if he thinks the entire village is against him.”
“We’re not against him,” I say. “We’re against Crompton being ruined. About it being turned into a hotel.”
“Better than a safari park,” Amarjit says.
“Or a museum. The place needs life,” Basil says.
I’m starting to think I’m the only person opposed to Vincent’s plans.
“Let’s have a show of hands. Who here is in favor of Vincent Cove’s hotel plans?”
Hands shoot up everywhere. My heart thuds through my chest with such vigor I think my t-shirt must be moving.