“Which may one day be reopened,” said the vicar. “And anyway, that factory is an eyesore and a danger to the children who play there.”

“We always played there,” said Tony Dibson. “Never came to any harm, not none of us.”

Mrs. T-J said that was irrelevant, and could they please get on. She took a vote, and the first of the proposals won. “So there we are, Derek,” she said. “Repair and renovate, and in due course a celebratory opening. Perhaps I can persuade my son, who is, as you all know, a well-known barrister, to perform the ceremony.”

“Hold yer water, missus,” Tony Dibson said. “Let’s get the money first, do the work, an’ then it’ll be time to think about openin’ ceremonies. As fer who should open it, I reckon we should be thinkin’ of somebody off the telly. One of them celebrities,” he added.

The rest of the agenda was swiftly dealt with, and Mrs. T-J closed the meeting, saying she would leave it to Derek to get a representative subcommittee together and report to the next council meeting.

THE PUB WAS ALREADY BUSY, AND DEREK AND JOHN THORNBULL pushed their way to the bar. “Usuals?” said the barman. They nodded, and took their pints to a table in the corner just vacated by a couple from Waltonby. “Evenin’,” Derek said. “Bit chilly out there. Winter’s comin’ on.” He and John settled down, took long drafts of ale, and were silent for a few minutes.

“Who shall we ask, then?” Derek said finally.

“And how many?”

“Oh, I should think five of us would do it. Don’t want too many, else you get nuthin’ done. So there’s us two, old Tony, for what he can remember about the village in the past, and who else?”

John frowned. “We need somebody with a bit of experience of fund-raising,” he said. “After all, we’re aiming for a really big lump sum. Don’t want a load of footling little craft fairs, book sales and all that. Hard work for everybody and tuppence-ha’penny profit at the end of it.”