Episode 129: No census, no reason
Previously in Leeford Village:
Zack cooks Clare a pasta meal, but she is going out – without Zack. Agnes fills in the census form, answering on Cody’s behalf. She is unable to submit the form as instructed because the post office is closed ‘until further notice’.
~
‘Agnes! What’s this?’ enquires Cody.
Agnes had left the completed census form on the dining table. She had not sealed the envelope - likely to change her mind on the way to the post office, as she does tend to make last-minute decisions. Particularly when it comes to politics. She doesn’t claim to have all the answers (unlike Cody) or, indeed, claim to understand all the issues (again, unlike Cody), but she defends her right to contribute to the political debate and use the vote that had been hard won by the suffragette movement in the twentieth century. Cody once claimed that her place was ‘in the kitchen and having babies’. He lived to regret that assertion for many years. He has since admitted to being ‘a proper idiot and typical bloke’, an admission that finds no argument from the female side of the Thornton clan. Things have improved for Agnes since the arrival of Jasmine. She takes no prisoners when it comes to inappropriate accusations from what she calls the ‘fairer sex’ (i.e. men). Justin is quite safe in her hands, but not so her adopted father, Cody (whom she adores). Cody’s mouth has a tendency to be five seconds ahead of his brain, but they love him just the same. With this in mind, Cody picks up the envelope and inspects the contents, then calls out to Agnes, who is preparing one of his favourite pasta dishes in the kitchen.
‘Agnes, are you free for a chat, love?’
‘What is it, Cody?’
‘Nothing really, just this census form.’
Agnes joins him in the living room and slumps onto the sofa.
‘What is it?’
‘You’ve answered “No” to the merger question.’
‘Yes.’
‘No, you answered “No”.’
‘Cody, you’re confusing me now.’
He sits beside her, pointing to Frank's additional question on the form. A question that should not have existed on the form. He reads out the question, putting on his best Rumpole of the Bailey voice.
‘Do you think that Leeford Village should remain independent, or merge with Bordsley?’
‘Well,’ says Agnes, ‘what’s wrong with that?’
‘But you answered “No”, Agnes.’
‘That’s right, I don’t want Leeford to merge with Bordsley.’
‘No, no, Agnes! You’re getting confused. You should have said “Yes” to agree that Leeford should remain independent.’
Agnes snatches the form from his hand and studies the question posed by Frank Watson.
‘Hang on a minute,’ she says, ‘this is no good. Half the village might answer “Yes” and the other half “No”, even though we might all want to be independent!’
‘Crikey, Agnes, I think you’re right. It’s an ambiguous question.’
At this point, Jasmine and Justin enter the room.
‘What’s ambiguous, Dad?’
Cody smiles and replies, this time more like Kavanagh QC: ‘Having an obscure or double meaning, according to the Concise Oxford.’
‘Thank you, Stephen Fry. Now, you know what I mean.’
‘Sorry, Jasmine. If you look at the census question, you’ll see what I mean.’
Cody turns to Agnes. ‘Shall we ask around and see what other people have done?’
‘Not sure it’s relevant at the moment,’ answers Agnes.
‘Why?’
‘The post office is shut. No one seems to know why, or when it’s reopening.’
~
Jason has completed the final draft of his novel. He submits it via email to Leech, Grab and Rattle (London), a renowned publishing house. His hand shakes – just a little – as his finger hovers over the Send key. Finally, he takes the plunge. It is done. In the weeks before submission, Jason had spent every waking hour editing, involving a painstaking process of reading and re-reading every single sentence of his debut novel. He had printed and re-printed versions of his manuscript a dozen times, not being someone who can easily edit a book on a computer screen. Jason prefers the old-fashioned method – sitting at his desk with a medium black biro (his standard writing tool), crossing out and scribbling notes onto the page for subsequent updating on his laptop.
Before Jason finally said aloud to himself, ‘that’s it, I’ve finished’, he considered employing a beta reader. ‘Employ’ is a slight exaggeration. He had no intention of paying anyone to do this, but he needed a worthy and intelligent volunteer (victim) to carry out this arduous task. His first thought was Cody, but this thought was quickly dismissed. George, maybe, he thought, then decided against asking his brother. Their relationship was back on track, and he didn’t want to spoil that through petty arguments about the correct use of tense, sentence structure or even debates about spelling. George was contrary enough to challenge the Oxford Concise. Finally, Jason decided to offer Ted Coleman the ultimate privilege. He had, seconds before the crucial moment of clicking the Send button in his email to LGR (London), considered employing his trusted beta reader before committing to the submission. Having clicked the button, he dismissed the thought. The email would arrive in the publisher’s inbox within minutes, along with the submissions of hundreds of other aspiring authors.
‘Thanks, Ted,’ says Jason, as he takes his pint from the bar and utters the immortal words ‘and one for yourself.’ He then follows up, having received a smile of gratitude from his friend with, ‘would you be my beta reader?’
Ted looks at Jason as if he had proposed marriage. Jason imagined writing in his novel the barman’s eyes misted over as he reached over the bar to touch his hand. As Jason shakes himself out of his literary reverie, Ted picks up on the sentiment.
‘For better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and⸺’
‘Oh, stop it, you silly bugger,’ interrupted Jason. I’m not proposing. I would like you to read the manuscript of my novel.’
‘Have you already sent it to the publishers?’ Ted asks.
‘Yep. Pressed the button today. No backing out now,’ replies Jason.
‘Shouldn’t you have asked for a beta blocker before you submitted it?’ the publican asks.
‘Beta reader, Ted. Beta reader. No, I’m confident of the accuracy of my work. No silly spelling mistakes. When you’ve read it, maybe you could write a review or a comment to go on the cover.’
Ted squirms as if he had met his favourite female pop star from an Australian soap.
‘Ooh – what an honour!’ exclaims Ted.
‘Sarcasm was never your greatest attribute, as you will discover when you read my novel!’
‘What is a beta reader, anyway, when it’s at home?’ asks Ted.
Jason puffs out his chest like he is the all-time expert in writing and publishing.
‘Someone with a bit about them who might be one of the first to read a novelist’s work. They are not proofreading it, but assessing it as a story so the author has feedback about how the hundreds or thousands who buy the book will react.’
‘Am I in it, then?’ asks Ted.
Jason pauses, takes a sip of Old Peculiar, and smiles.
‘Well, not exactly, but in some senses everyone in the village is in it.’
‘Sorry, Jase, I forgot. All that stuff about Cody and Mered⸺’
‘Enough already,’ interrupts Jason. ‘Keep this to yourself. I don’t want everyone discussing it before it’s published.’
‘But you had those early draft readings with the lads’.
‘Yes, but I’ve changed it quite a lot since then. This is a blockbuster. It’ll blow everyone away.’
‘Okay. Fine,’ says Ted.
‘You mean you’ll do it?’
‘Of course I will, old mate. It’ll be a giggle – and I’ll proofread it for you. You never know.’
‘Ted, I could kiss you.’
‘If you do, mate, don’t, whatever you do, add that scene to a second edition of the book.’
‘It’s an idea, Ted.’
Ted glares at him, but the glare morphs into his classic grin.
‘Don’t you dare,’ he says. ‘Let me have your manuscript before you send in an edited version.’
~
‘You cannot be serious!’
Frank smiles and looks straight at Nick Allthorpe, manager of the community centre.
‘You sound just like John McEnroe.’
‘Funny, Frank, funny,’ says Nick. ‘But lion taming? Really?’
Frank folds his arms with some authority as he answers Nick.
‘Do I have to remind you that, although we allow you to attend committee meetings of the parish council, you do not have a vote? However,’ says Frank, not allowing Nick back in, ‘I’ll concede that I might have been a bit rash. Mind you, if Banfield Zoo are up for it…’
Stephen Miller cannot hold back any longer.
‘No, Frank. I’m sorry, but I can’t allow it.’
‘What?’
‘On health and safety grounds. After what happened to Agnes, and there were people trapped in the café for hours.’
Once again, Frank smiles but seems to accept Stephen’s point.
‘Okay, okay, I give in, but don’t try to tell me that the couple in the café were having a hard time. From what I hear, they⸺’
‘Alright, alright, that’s enough!’ shouts Cody. ‘One more word about our Jasmine and I’ll, well I won’t allow it!’
‘Calm down, Cody,’ says Stephen. ‘Frank, leave it will you. I shall say this only once. No, repeat no lions.’
The titter that sweeps around the table, partly after Cody makes a snide remark about ‘Allo ‘Allo, subsides quickly as Frank gives his best authoritative cough, picks up his favourite fountain pen and ticks the first item on the agenda. ‘No lions,’ he whispers as he moves his pen down to agenda item number two – overall theme for this year’s fête.
‘Alright, everyone. We have settled the issue of potentially dangerous animals, but can we agree on the circus theme I’ve come up with?’
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