Chapter 15
‘So. First on the agenda,’ said Sue, we were all seated behind a drink at the Sooty Fox. As bossiest person in the cycling group, she’d elected herself de facto chair. ‘Stewart’s announcement.’
‘Thanks, Sue,’ Stewart said. ‘Ok, so as you know I got in touch with an old friend who knows someone on the inside and he was able to get us the dirt. The route’s still very much under discussion, and although the focus is the Yorkshire Dales National Park, his contact told him they’re amenable to bringing Stage 2 through our little bit of Airedale. Based on that I gave the decision-makers a ring, sold us pretty heavily, and they’re coming to visit the first Thursday in September.’
‘When the heather’s in bloom,’ I murmured. ‘Good call.’
Stewart smiled at me. ‘Yeah, that was my thinking. We want the old place dressed in its best, don’t we?’
‘Are they coming all the way from France?’ Cameron asked.
‘No, London. VisitBritain have appointed a group to make recommendations for the UK stages.’
‘Good job,’ Sue said with an approving nod. ‘So what we need to decide is, how’re we going to impress them? We’ve got a lot to prove.’
‘We should have a welcoming committee, shouldn’t we?’ Cameron said. ‘A couple of us to show them round.’
‘It’ll be a working day for most of us though,’ Stewart said.
Sue turned to me and Tom. ‘You two can do it, can’t you? It’s your show really.’
‘S’pose,’ I said. ‘I’d be worried about cocking it up though.’
‘Well, me and Gerry can come to support you.’
‘How do we get them up to Pagans’ Rock?’ Tom asked. ‘They’ll only have little southern legs.’
‘Good point,’ Cameron said. ‘Can’t let them go without seeing that.’
Gerry shrugged. ‘We’ve got my Land Rover. Off-road it up.’
‘Ok, that’ll do. What else?’ I said. ‘Some sort of buffet in here?’
‘Why not bring them to Flagons?’ Stewart said.
I frowned. ‘Why, you think they’ll be into harpsichord music?’
‘Bit of quirk, isn’t it? All the villages they view’ll have a pub or two but I bet none have got a medieval tavern.’
‘Hmm. We’d have to close to the public.’
‘Thursdays are quiet though,’ Tom said. ‘It’s only one night, sis. And Stewart’s right, it’d be something they’d remember.’
‘Well… ok. I’ll ask Deano if he’d be up for cooking.’
‘So that’s decided,’ Yolanda said. ‘Tour of the village, view from the rock, tea at the restaurant. The ladies and I can whizz out a few cakes for the buffet.’
‘I’m doing scones,’ Sue said quickly.
Yolanda waved a hand. ‘Fine. You do the scones, I’ll bring the indigestion salts.’
‘So what’s next on the agenda?’ Cameron said, wisely changing the subject before Sconegate erupted again.
‘Bats,’ I said. ‘Those bloody bats.’
‘Do we have a plan for the bats?’ Gerry asked.
‘I thought we could invite the chair of the Bat Salvation Church to our next meeting, see if we can find a compromise.’
Cameron frowned. ‘Sorry, what did you say the group was called?’
‘Well it’s something like that.’
‘Ok, Lana, we’ll leave it with you.’ Sue glanced at the beer mat she’d used to scribble out an agenda. ‘And then the most important item: fundraising. Lana’s filled out the paperwork for the council grant, but we still need to make 25 grand fast. Ideas?’
‘I had one,’ I said.
‘Ok, honey, amaze us,’ Yolanda said. I tried to ignore the obvious sarcasm.
‘Yarnbombing.’ I beamed round at them.
‘Whatting?’ Gerry said.
‘You know, yarnbombing. It’s like urban graffiti with wool. Very trendy.’
‘Oh yeah, I’ve heard of it,’ Stewart said. ‘Knitting scarves for lampposts, that type of thing. How would that work as a fundraiser?’
‘It’d be more raising awareness really,’ I said. ‘Then we follow up with some sort of event.’
‘But none of us knit, do we?’ Sue said.
‘I do.’
All eyes turned to Stewart, who shrugged. ‘What, I can’t have layers? It’s therapeutic. Gave me something to do while I was recuperating from the knee injury.’
‘Well aren’t you just full of surprises?’ Yolanda said, pawing nauseatingly at his upper arm. ‘I do love a New Man.’
‘One every bloody week,’ Sue muttered.
I ignored them and carried on pitching my idea. ‘So we get a load of knackered bikes, Stewart knits cosies for them, then we plant them around the village overnight and everyone wakes up to find the yarn bikes have taken over. I mean, photo op of the year, people! I bet we’d get a load of press coverage. We’d be…’ I paused, trying to remember the line I’d jotted down when I’d had the idea. ‘…combining the historic local industries of sheep farming and textile manufacture with a cycling theme, that’s it.’
‘Hmm. Not sure I can knit that fast,’ Stewart said.
‘Ladies Who Lunch must have a few knitters. Reckon you could pull us in some recruits, Yo-yo?’
‘I don’t know, darling,’ she said. ‘I’m sure I could, but it seems rather – well, naff, no offence. And I really think we should be making money.’
‘I agree,’ Stewart said. ‘If we need 25 grand in the kitty by January we should be focusing on proper fundraisers, save the promotion for later. Sorry, Lana.’ Yolanda sent a smug look my way.
I drooped a little. I’d been pretty pleased with my yarnbombing idea and it was disheartening to have it rejected out of hand.
‘Lovely thought though, chicken,’ Sue said, giving my arm a comforting squeeze.
‘So, any other ideas?’ Gerry asked.
‘I had one,’ Tom said, trying not to look at Cameron.
‘Don’t you dare,’ I whispered. But it was too late.
‘Nude calendar. Cycling theme. That’d make money and get us some press.’
Cameron frowned. ‘What, us lot?’
‘Yeah, why not? Bit of cheeky fun, the village’d love it.’
‘Well, Yo-yo?’ Gerry said. ‘This is your area. It’s all jam-making in the buff with WIs these days, isn’t it?’
‘It’s Ladies Who Lunch now, dear,’ Yolanda said stiffly. ‘And I do all my cooking nude actually.’ She flashed a suggestive smile at Stewart. ‘It’s only natural, after all.’
‘Ew,’ Tom muttered.
‘Visual?’ I whispered back.
‘Just thinking about that Victoria sponge I bought off her at the last cake sale.’
‘Bit old hat, isn’t it?’ Sue said. ‘It might’ve been original when that WI in Rylstone did it, but the world and his wife’s doing nuddy calendars now.’
‘With a cycling theme though?’ Tom said. ‘Anyway, it’s more about it being a novelty round here than setting the world alight.’
‘Oh, I think it’s a wonderful idea!’ Yolanda said, not taking her eyes off Stewart.
‘You would,’ Gerry muttered.
‘After all, how many calendars have their own hunky cycling celebrity? That would be a massive selling point,’ Yolanda went on. ‘You’ll do it, won’t you, Stewpot?’
‘Christ, she’s given him a nickname already,’ I muttered to Tom.
‘I’m more concerned about him slapping his massive selling point on the table for her,’ he whispered.
Stewart shrugged. ‘Yeah, why not? Always willing to get my kit off for a good cause.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘Hey. What if I could get us a real celebrity?’
‘Oh God,’ I whispered to Tom. ‘He’d better not say what I think he’s about to say.’
‘I could get us Harper Brady.’
‘Yep,’ Tom muttered.
Yolanda’s eyes were wide. ‘You’re not serious! You know Harper Brady? The Harper Brady?’
‘Unfortunately,’ Stewart said. ‘He’s my cousin.’
‘Oh my goodness, really?’ she practically squealed. ‘I love him!’
‘Yeah. You might want to meet him before you go too far down that route.’
Her gaze dwelt on his muscular arms. ‘You must have excellent genes in your family, darling. Do you really think he’d do our little calendar?’
‘Don’t see why not. Harper loves taking his clothes off, I don’t think he’s had a TV role yet where he hasn’t at least got his arse out. Anyway, he owes me a favour. I helped him with the research for Soar.’
Yolanda’s eyes and mouth formed a teashop’s worth of saucers.
‘That drama about the soldier with PTSD? I’ve seen every episode! You didn’t work on that?’
‘Er, yeah, I gave a bit of advice on the cycling stuff. Not that Harper ever acknowledges it, but my name’s in the credits.’
‘I had no idea you were so important, darling,’ she purred, resting her long fingernails on his arm.
‘“Exploited” is the word I’d be tempted to use. But thanks.’
Yolanda was practically sitting in his lap now, and the name-dropping git was clearly loving every minute.
‘Brady won’t do it,’ I said. ‘He’ll think it’s beneath him.’
‘Probably. But like I said, he owes me a favour.’
‘All right, Stewart, go ahead and ask,’ Tom said. ‘It’d be good for sales, I guess. So, who else?’ He glanced at Cameron. ‘You?’
‘What, like… you know, all of me?’
‘If you want. Stewart can knit us all willy warmers to keep out the chill.’ He turned to Stewart. ‘How much wool’ve you got?’
‘Not enough.’
‘Pay no attention to them,’ I said to Cameron. ‘You won’t have to full monty, it’s not that sort of calendar. It’ll be just the suggestion of nudity with the tiniest amount of flesh.’
Cameron still looked uncertain. ‘Well, if all of you are doing it…’
‘Not sure I will. I can be photographer or something.’
‘Oh, come on, sis,’ Tom said, nudging me. ‘All for one and one for all. Like you said, we won’t show anything. Just a bit of tummy and some arm or whatever.’
I glanced down at my tummy. I could feel it muffin-topping over my jeans as we spoke. Letting it all hang loose for the whole village to see wasn’t exactly my idea of a good time.
‘Absolutely not.’ Gerry folded his arms. ‘I won’t have our Lana doing it. I was her dad’s best friend, I stand in loco wotchacallit now he’s not around.’
‘Oh right, but you don’t mind Tom doing it,’ I said.
‘That’s different. He’s a bloke. When women do it, it’s…’ He paused, fumbling for a word outside his usual vocabulary. ‘…objectifying, that’s it. You don’t want every randy old bugger in the village ogling you in the altogether, do you?’
Sue snorted. ‘Objectifying. He’s been at my Woman’s Own again.’
‘Oh, no no no, it’ll be empowering!’ Yolanda said, her eyes glittering. The idea had clearly caught her imagination, in a way I sensed was nothing to do with WIs and everything to do with Yolanda Sommerville.
She came over and started prodding my arm and squeezing my hips like a prime cow on show.
‘Ow! Geroff, Yo-yo!’
She ignored me. ‘Oh yes, we can definitely work with this. New hair for the day – lose the frump, you know – I’ll do your makeup, we’ll give you something to keep this little tummy hidden. And of course we want to make as much as possible of these, don’t we?’ She gave my boobs a friendly pat.
‘Yolanda, get OFF!’ I batted her hand away, blushing furiously. ‘Not appropriate, ok?’
She shrugged. ‘All girls together, aren’t we, darling? We’ve got the same parts, there’s no need to be coy.’ She turned to Stewart. ‘What do you say, Stewpot? Don’t you think our Lana would make a perfect Miss July?’
Stewart was still staring at my recently prodded chest. He blinked.
‘Sorry, what? I was miles away.’
Yolanda flicked her eyebrows in my direction. ‘Honestly, these boys. A hint of breast and they’re away with the fairies.’
‘Ok, ok, I’ll do it,’ I said, mainly in the hope it might take the conversation away from my boobs. ‘But I’m not showing my bits, top or bottom. I want to be completely covered.’
Yolanda looked disappointed. ‘Well, I’m sure we can get you some props, if that’s the way you must have it,’ she said. ‘I’ll certainly show my tops and bottoms. It’s for the village, after all.’
‘We know, love,’ Gerry said. ‘Even when we were at school you’d get yours out for half a long fag and a bag of chips.’ He turned to meet Sue’s glare. ‘Er, so I heard,’ he said with a guilty smile.
Tom looked at Sue and Gerry. ‘Well, suppose I have to ask. Are you in, old people?’
Gerry snorted. ‘You what? You want me to chuck the wedding tackle over a bike saddle at my time of life? I thought we were trying to make money.’
Sue nodded. ‘He’s right, it’s not a pretty sight. Reminds me of Christmas.’
I shot a warning look at Stewart, whose mouth was opening, but it was no good: he couldn’t help himself.
‘Go on, Sue, why Christmas?’ he asked. ‘Does he tie a little ribbon round it for you as a treat?’
‘No,’ she said. ‘I was thinking more last turkey in the shop.’
I curled my lip. ‘For God’s sake, stop, or I’ll have nightmares. Anyway, it’ll be strictly pants on, thanks, Gerry. Just take your top off and sit in a tin bath or something.’
***
When we’d done as much planning as we could stomach and Yolanda and Stewart had gone on their merry way, Tom drained the last of his pint.
‘Right, drink up, sis. Time to go home.’
‘I’ll walk with you. I’m going your way,’ Cameron said.
‘Er, yeah… actually, I’m just going to pop to the farm,’ I said. ‘I need food for the dog. You boys walk back.’
Gerry frowned. ‘Eh? I sold you a big bag of biscuits last week.’
Sue nudged him in what after 23 years of marriage must be some pretty bruised ribs.
‘Well, he’s a growing puppy. Anyway, it does no harm to stock up.’ She sent pointed side-eyes between her husband and Tom.
‘Oh. Oh! Right.’ Gerry stood up. ‘Ok, girls, come on. And on the way we can work out how to tell Roger Collingwood we need to book the Temp so the entire cycling group can take their clothes off.’