16. Apr, 2021

'A Spring Fever'

The May Queen Festival Gala was beginning to look like a repeat of the Easter bonnet fiasco.  Hostilities had barely ceased yet between the three main volunteer panel members over that.  Of course, it was true that Flo’s effort had been outstanding.  It was also true that, as a retired milliner and former hat shop owner, it would not have been fair for her to have won.  She remained, however, embittered.  The need to be a good sport about it had continued to sour her further.

Entering the community centre reception area, in which bright orange moulded plastic seats were arranged in a small line before one of the coffee tables to serve as the meeting room, Alan scanned their faces.  Flo, Vera and Dorrie presented a triptych, one face turned left, one to the centre and the other to the right.  All wore pained, saintly expressions but, to Alan’s mind, were more like the three heads of a single gorgon.  He sighed.  It had already been a trying morning.

He had woken to a flurry of ever more incoherent text messages suggesting that Tess had had another rush of gin to the head.  He had avoided answering on the basis of being offended, but really because he couldn’t be bothered.  Alan supposed he’d have to speak to the daft bat at some point to keep her sweet but later would do.  Meanwhile, he had these three to contend with.

Fortunately, today Derek had turned up, which might water down their bile slightly, since he had plenty of his own, usually loudly expressed.  Alan also saw that Serena was here, a younger but no less determined presence.  The issues that were clouding over the fair weather of the May Queen procession were several.  The key one between Derek and Serena was pollution.  Derek’s fleet of flat back lorries had always supplied transport for the floats.  Serena, new to the area’s enterprises, ran a bicycle rickshaw service to deliver package free goods from independent stores of the right kind.  She believed, and fervently, that cycle led carts were the answer for this year’s parade.

“When it’s time for change, it’s time for change, Derek,” she was saying.  “It doesn’t mean that what was done before was wrong.  You didn’t know so much about damage to the environment then.”

“Morning, Alan!” boomed Derek, seeing Alan coming in.  “I’m a bloody flat earther now!”

“Language, Derek!” rebuked Flo.

“Sorry, ladies,” Derek, unrepentant, grinned.  “Or should I say, ‘brothers and sisters’ to be p.c.?”  This drew a genteel laugh from Flo, Dorrie and Vera.  Serena looked loftily understanding.  “I’ll just see myself out, shall I, if my services aren’t required?”

Derek looked around everyone with challenging bonhomie.

“Of course your services are required, Derek, mate,” said Alan.  “As chair this time round, and sorry I’m late all, sit you down!”

Mollified by a bit of man to man banter, Derek subsided for the present.  A short debate followed and the question of mode of transport was deferred following an unarguable point made (diplomatically) by Alan.  This was that quite apart from pollution, there would be load bearing and risk to consider.

“We need to consult with local schools and the Council on it,” he said.  “The children’s health and safety must come first.”

Nobody being able to reasonably protest against that, Serena asked if she might add her points to any proposal email to be agreed by the panel at the next meeting.

“You can put what you like, love,” said Derek with a wink.  “They all know me.”

This bore implications, of course, that an obligatory favouritism would win out.

“I think you ought to write something too, Derek,” suggested Dorrie.   “They’re cycling obsessed in general.  I mean, the main road through’s reduced to single file crawling even out of rush hour.”

“Filter lanes they call it, don’t they?” put in Flo.  “I don’t remember being consulted!  I have to use my automatic mini to get anywhere after my knees.”

Flo’s knees had an ominous reputation of their own.  Pavement creeping shop frontages had been pushed back into line on the strength of them.  She was the doyenne of disabled people’s issues locally and expected to be seen as that.  Conversation diverted heatedly onto the topic of the main road for some time.

“Now, the community on line forum’s a good place to air all those views,” said Alan after a while.  “We’ve got an agenda here for the May Queen parade.”

His phone was pinging repeatedly.  Tess must have woken up again, either remorseful or still banging on.  He really didn’t want to look.  It could take her either way.

“Let’s move on to theme?” he suggested.  “We still hadn’t agreed that last time.”

This opened up another can of worms.  Vera, still riding high on her Easter bonnet win, was all for tradition.

“What’s wrong with having a proper May Queen competition?” she asked, beaming.  “Floral garlands are so lovely, and the girls dress up so prettily.  I mean,” she could not resist adding, “It’s like Easter, isn’t it?  Eggs and bonnets and a parade?”

“What about the other religions?” asked Serena.  “It should be a multicultural do, all inclusive.”

“What, like an all you can eat banquet?” guffawed Derek.  “What are we having?  Chinese, Thai, or Indian?”

“Derek, you’re awful!” tittered Dorrie.

“Don’t encourage him,” said Alan.

“I agree with Serena,” said Flo stonily.  “I mean, if things aren’t going to be judged fairly, then what’s the point?”

She had her glare on for Vera’s benefit.  Vera looked pointedly out of the window again.

“Eee!” said Derek.  “There was enough said at our Edie’s wedding, as the saying goes.  Let’s not go back over all that, girls.”

“Derek, do you really have to keep calling us ‘ladies, love and girls’,” Serena burst out predictably.

“I can call you something else all right,” returned Derek.

“Oi!” said Alan.  “Right.  How about a non-competitive approach?  Young person’s costume dress, male or female, theme of the day.  All welcome.”

“But it’s a May Queen parade!” objected Vera.

“We can just call it a May parade and have done,” said Derek.  “I never was a great one for the royals.”

He looked around for laughs.  Flo bridled.

“Don’t bring the real Queen into it!” she objected with hauteur.

“Oh, come on, Flo.  I’m only having a joke,” said Derek.

“Actually, I think Derek has an idea there,” put in Alan hastily.  “May parade it is.  We will call it that in our email to schools and Council.  How about it?”

“I agree,” said Serena.  “And let’s ask the schools what themes the children can suggest, shall we?  We can vote on those most popular.  I’m sure the environment will figure strongly.  I got a good turn out on the park litter pick.”

“I expect there will be lots of lovely ideas,” said Dorrie.  “It will save us arguing over our own when some people will never agree,” she added pointedly of Vera and Flo.

Having come second, she was less affected by the Easter bonnet crisis than those who had come first and third.

“Let’s see what comes back, then,” said Alan.  “All agreed?”

“But – it could end up being any old gala parade,” said Vera plaintively.  “And it’s the May Queen parade!  Did I ever tell you I won it once when I was about fourteen?  We had a Maypole to dance around and everything.”

“I expect Flo would have won that too if it hadn’t been for her knees,” put in Dorrie with a naughty giggle behind her hand.

“She might dance round the Maypole today if it wasn’t for her knees.  Right, Flo?” suggested Derek.  “I hear she’s still game.”

Derek gave one of his suggestive winks.

“Game for what?” asked Flo stiffly.

It was Alan’s turn to stare out of the window.  His phone pinged several times again.

“If you’ve quite finished, Derek?” he said tiredly.

“Hadn’t you better check your phone?” asked Derek.

“Sorry.  I should have put it on silent.  I will in a minute.  Let’s get on.”

“Where’s Tess today?” enquired Derek.

“I have no idea,” said Alan.

“Ah,” said Derek.

Alan’s phone now rang and vibrated urgently.

“I’ll have to take this,” he said, getting up and leaving the panel meeting for privacy and taking advantage of the call to avoid Derek’s questions.

“If I were you,” he heard Derek say to Flo, “I wouldn’t sign up for it.  Retirement village!  Pie in the sky!  I told Tess the same but no, she’s put her money in up front to buy a bungalow cottage, so called.  I hope you haven’t, ladies?” he asked.  “I mean, he’s very persuasive, our Alan, but remember, I work in the construction industry.  There’s property developers and there’s builders.  Then there’s backers and buyers.  I mean to say, we could all be dead before that got off the ground.  Besides – you ladies are ready to scratch each other’s eyes out as it is – and you don’t even live together in some daft old gits commune now, do you?”

This was not music to Alan’s ears as he was answering his phone.

“Now, then, Tess,” he greeted genially.  “Rush, rush, rush!  These things take time, you know.  I keep telling you this.  And of course I have other invest – buyers, I mean.  It’s going to be a regular paradise on earth for one and all.  I be straight over to you after the meeting, and we’ll talk then.”

A now sober Tess pacified, he returned to the room to hear Dorrie saying,

“It’s like time share apartments, Flo.  I mean, that was a proper racket back in the day.”

“Pyramid selling was too,” said Vera thoughtfully.  “I never had any truck.”

“Nor did I,” said Dorrie firmly.

“But, I’m going to need somewhere with bespoke adaptations to move into, with my knees,” objected Flo.

“And you will have them!” Alan genially reassured her.  “As I told you over dinner the other night.”

“Aye, aye!” said Derek with another roguish wink.  “What did I tell you?  Proper little knees up together at a dinner dance, speaking of knees.  So a little bird told me.”

“Who was that?” asked Vera with interest.

“Tess” said Derek, tapping his nose wisely.  “I don’t think she was best pleased, Alan, old lad.  Was that her ringing?”

“No,” lied Alan.  “Right.  I think business is over.  I’ll draft the email to go to the Council and schools for our next meeting, shall I?  Serena you can send me your input.”

“Why don’t you discuss it over dinner?” suggested Derek kindly.  “That’s more your style.”

“Derek, if you want to send me any bullet points, I’ll add them in,” said Alan, ignoring this.

“All right.  I might ask Tess what she thinks too, since she missed the meeting,” said Derek.

“Good idea,” agreed Flo  “I think I’ll come with you.  If you wouldn’t mind giving me a lift, Derek?  It’s my…”

“…knees, love.  Yes, I know.”

“Alan?” said Serena.  “Where is this going to be?  There are green space issues locally.”

“Oh – it’s with Planning,” said Alan vaguely.  “Reclaimed brownfield sites they’re on about.  All under discussion.”

“I see,” said Serena frowning.  “Well in that case, I shall be looking into it.  Old industrial sites can be lethal underneath.”

“It’ll come into the public domain for consultation any time, so they tell me.  I keep on at them,” said Alan, beaming around the assembled company, especially Flo, Vera and Dorrie.  “You’ll see it all then.  I think they’ve got a few things under their hats,” he added, as if being kept in the dark himself.  “Right, I’m – er…” he consulted his watch.

“Late for dinner?” asked Derek.

“Late for another meeting.  Oh, and I’ll be speaking to Tess myself, so no need to rush along.  I’m sure you’re all busy.”

Feeling he had rather had his hair parted by flying bullets Alan (property developer and local upcoming businessman) hastily left the community centre.  He already had a hefty deposit from Tess up front and Flo was only wavering  He was sure, as he sped off in his car and then got stuck in the single file traffic on the main road, that he would have no trouble in the end with any of them.  Another run through on his lap top for Tess (it really was amazing how realistic these computer simulations of buildings were these days) and she would be persuaded to go the whole financial hog.  Then he could stop worrying that she really wanted her money back as dates just kept on slipping and worse, was poised to sue, as she kept telling him when the gin genie got out of the bottle.  Everybody knew the planning process went on forever, surely?  After a while, he turned his engine off.  No point keeping it running when everybody was stuck.  So long as he got to Tess first, all would be well.

To his left, Serena floated past in the cycle lane and on into the middle distance unimpeded.  She had a very set expression but that was probably just because she was facing into the sun.  Nor did she respond to his wave.  Then on his right, Derek, with Flo beside him, illegally overtook the traffic jam in the bus lane and zoomed ahead with Serena.  They didn’t seem to notice him either.  Trust Derek not to care about the fines, thought Alan resentfully.  He had his business reputation to think of and couldn’t afford to get caught on camera breaking the rules.  He was often on the local news promoting his devotion to all the right things.  Besides, the traffic was nose to tail gridlocked and he simply wasn’t going to be able to move out of it.  A while later, a very sinking feeling of realisation passed through him.  They were all going to see Tess, right now, and before him!  Alan realised that, in more ways than one, he simply wasn’t going anywhere.  He had to do something, and fast.  He got out his mobile and rang Tess.

“Tess, hun?  I’m stuck in traffic.  I think Derek and Flo are on their way to you, with Serena.”

“I know,” she said coldly. “They’re all here.  Oh, and you needn’t bother to come now.”

Tess put the phone down.  The car in front inched forward just enough.  Throwing caution to the winds, Alan pulled into the bus lane and roared ahead, only to find a broken down double decker was now impeding his way further down the road.  Nobody would let him back in to the main line of traffic, either, having seen him scull arrogantly passed them before.  Alan sat in his car trying not to think about what conversations might be going on in Tess’s house and becoming increasingly nervous about it.  After a time, he rang her again, but Tess did not answer and now her phone was switched off.  Still stuck in traffic, Alan could practically see all his plans going right off the boil.  Eventually crawling out far enough to turn down a side road, he arrived at Tess’s house, but all was quiet and there was nobody home.  He had no doubt that somewhere Derek, Flo and Tess were deep in financial discussions of the kind which would certainly not be to his advantage.  Alan could only hope that tomorrow would be another day for his venture capital schemes, as he liked to think of them.  He doubted, however, that he would sleep well tonight.