by Stan Mason
‘Does anyone else outside this committee know about this?’ asked Quint uneasily. ‘I noticed a cafuffle last Saturday when the counterfoils were being placed in the box but I didn’t really know what was happening.’
‘I don’t think anyone else knows about it,’ retorted Jessica Wilkes. ‘When we discovered there was this discrepancy, we carried on with the raffle as though everything was normal. Naturally, questions were asked at the time, but only to committee members. I don’t believe anyone else overheard us.’
‘That’s what you say,’ muttered Beverley bitterly. ‘I’m not having it said that we can’t run a raffle without cheating. It’s like not being able to run a piss-up in a brewery.’
‘Please! Watch your language, Mr. Beverley!’ chided Jessica Wilkes, stunned that he should say such a thing.
‘I think it places us in an impossible position,’ declared Quint unhappily. ‘How can we justify running a raffle when most of the people who bought tickets aren’t entered in the final draw. It makes a mockery... no, it’s worst than that. It’s deceit to the highest degree and if we were ever caught out we would all be in trouble.’
‘It’s disgusting!’ commented Barbara Mackie.
‘You mean disgraceful,’ uttered Quint unnecessarily.
‘No I don’t. And I’d prefer you not to keep correcting me.’
‘You spotted snakes with double tongue, thorny hedgehogs be not seen. Newts and blind-worms do no wrong. Come not near our fairy queen,’ quoted Masters from Shakespeare again.
‘Will you shut up, John,’ scolded Jessica Wilkes. The man was getting on her nerves. He spouted the words of the Bard at every opportunity. It was becoming too much to bear.
‘So what do we do about raffles in the future?’ demanded Beverley. He had always wanted to be the Chairman of the committee but John Masters had been there since time immemorial and was clearly not to be shifted. He was loathe to consider women undertaking any of the major jobs, believing that they were the weaker sex and should be relegated far behind men. ‘I mean, are we going to leave it to the women... the same women who made a mess of it... or will it be handed to some responsible person such as Mr. Gibbons or Mr. Quint?’
There was uproar as the women started to protest at his attitude and comments, shouting words such as ‘equality’, ‘womens’ rights’ and ‘male chauvenistic pig’.
The Chairman rarely had to use the gavel but this was an opportunity he could not pass. Smashing it down hard on the table, he interrupted all conversations bringing them to a sudden halt. ‘All right, all right!’ he shouted, although there was no longer a need to do so. ‘Can I have some kind of assurance, Mrs. Devenish, that this will not happen again.’
‘You have my wholehearted assurance on that, Mr. Masters,’ she replied. ‘It’ll never happen again. I promise.’
‘No... not until the next time,’ muttered Barbara Mackie making certain her comment could be heard. She reflected back on the recent past issue. ‘Huh, one minute’s silence and nothing else. No plaque on the wall, no trophy on the grave, no nothing. You wouldn’t credit it!’
‘Right, let’s crack on with the next item,’ urged the Chairman eagerly. ‘We rent the hall for one night weekly from Cardine Village Association. They informed me a short while ago that they wish to adopt a non-smoking policy on the premises. As you know, about fifty per cent of our members smoke and, although a separate room has been set aside for smoking, the inconvenience may cause us to lose a number of our members. It’s not an exciting prospect after we worked so hard to build up an attendance.’
‘Which room has been set aside?’ asked Quint bluntly.
‘The new one attached to the outside of the building,’ replied the Chairman helpfully.
‘Well that’s no good at all,’ intruded Jessica Wilkes. ‘What use is it to our members if they have to go outside every time they want to smoke a cigarette. It’s pointless.’
‘Pointless it may be,’ cut in Beverley, looking down his nose at her, ‘but it’s a rule that’s going to come in at the beginning of next month. There’s nothing we can do about it.’
‘As far as I can see,’ said Kate Devenish, ‘there are only two clubs which use this centre. Apart from certain days in the year when various other activities take place, no one else bothers to use it... not at the price of the rent.’
‘What are you trying to say?’ demanded Quint tiredly.
‘What I’m trying to say is that we ought to protest.’
‘We’ve already done that,’ explained Masters. ‘I was invited to their meeting. The committee voted and was tied three for and three against. The Chairman, who runs the other club renting these premises, used his casting vote in favour of the ban. I’ve no idea why he did that because the ruling is going to affect his members as well.’
‘Can’t we insist on a recount or go to the European Court of Human Rights on the matter,’ suggested Gibbons glumly. ‘I mean it is an infringement of our rights, after all.’
‘I’m afraid not,’ added the Chairman. ‘Firstly, it would cost us a great deal of money which we haven’t got and, secondly, there’s no guarantee we would win. It’s really not worth the time and effort to resist the ruling.’
‘It’s all right for you!’ spat Jessica Wilkes. ‘You don’t smoke so it doesn’t affect you.’
‘I don’t smoke,’ replied her adversary, ‘because I believe that smoking damages one’s health. And I’m not so certain about passive smoking either. But that didn’t stop me from protesting when the matter arose. I did my best, I assure you.’
‘How many people on the committee of the association actually smoke?’ asked Beverley staring at the ceiling.
‘About fifty per cent,’ replied Masters sagely.
‘Then how can people vote to prevent other people smoking if they don’t smoke themselves? That’s what I’d like to know.’
‘Sorry, Beverley, but that’s not a logical argument,’ came the reply from the Chairman. ‘When you look at the facts there are other matters to consider with regard to smoking.’
‘Such as what?’ demanded Jessica Wilkes acidly.
‘Such as fire precautions, health matters, passive smoking, the cost of insurance to cover people who smoke, and so on.’
The room fell silent for a few moments as the members’ minds ticked over in computer fashion, thinking about the details outlined in the reply.
‘So we just sit back and take it,’ claimed Kate Devenish. Her tone indicated exactly how she felt about the issue. ‘We will lose members who won’t come because they can’t smoke here. Is the association going to reduce our rent for the loss of income because they must know we’re going to lose by it.’
‘I’m afraid that’s the next item on the agenda,’ exclaimed the Chairman with a sad expression appearing on his face.
‘You mean they’re putting up the rent as well?’ retorted Quint, his face turning red with anger.
‘Before we go off at a tangent, please calm down. The quality of mercy is not strained. It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven upon the place beneath. It is twice blessed. It blesses him that gives and him who receives.’ quoted Masters from The Merchant of Venice.
‘Will you stop chantering all that twaddle!’ accused Jessica Wilkes almost reaching the end of her tether.
‘I cannot see how the words of the Bard can have any harm on these proceedings. I do wish you could appreciate his work,’ he returned tiredly, shaking his head slowly.
‘The Bard has nothing to do with our club,’ she retaliated harshly. ‘And it doesn’t help to keep quoting him!’
‘I’m more interested in the increase in our rent,’ cut in Beverley seriously. ‘How much do they want now?’
‘We haven’t come to that item yet!’ muttered the Chairman irritably. ‘We’re still on the no
n-smoking issue.’
‘Well there’s damn all we can do about that!’ countered Kate Devenish quickly. ‘Man proposes, God disposes. We’re caught in a trap, aren’t we?’
‘It’s not right!’ muttered Quint. ‘I still say we should do something about it, albeit I can’t think of what to do at this precise moment.’
‘You never do!’ criticised Barbara Mackie, her face turning into a witch-like form.
‘What do you mean by that?’ he returned sharply.
‘Exactly what I said. Like King Charles the Second, you never say anything or do anything.’
‘I think that was James the Second,’ corrected Masters taking the opportunity to recite a rhyme. ‘We have a pretty witty king, whose word no man relies on, who never said a foolish thing and never did a wise one.’
‘Will you stop that!’ scolded Jessica Wilkes acidly. ‘I’ve had enough of your Shakesperian quotations!’
‘Well that’s where you’re wrong, madam,’ he returned sharply. ‘That rhyme was not Shakespeare.’
‘I don’t care who wrote it!’ she ranted. ‘It’s all the same to me! Just stop doing it!’
‘Shall we get back to the business of this committee,’ suggested the Chairman in an attempt to bring some order to the proceedings. ‘Do I take it we’ve accepted the decision to adopt non-smoking in the club?’
‘No we haven’t!’ returned Kate Devenish with the bit between her teeth. ‘What will our members do about it? It’s all very well for someone to set the rules but how will it affect our members? Can someone answer that one?’
‘I should imagine they’ll have to refrain from smoking,’ said Gary Gibbons, offering his two pennyworth of advice. ‘Otherwise I can see only two options. We can either refuse entry to anyone who won’t stop smoking on Saturday nights, or, if we don’t curb it, the association will ask us to leave telling us to hold our venues somewhere else.’
‘That’s brilliant when the committee of the association tie on an issue and leave it to the Chairman to exercise his casting vote,’ muttered Quint. ‘How close can one be to winning or losing the case?’
‘It doesn’t matter how close it was,’ countered Beverley. ‘The fact is that from the beginning of next month none of our members will be allowed to smoke in this building. The question on the table is how will it affect our membership?’
‘Well don’t ask me,’ replied Quint solemnly. ‘I don’t have a crystal ball to look into the future.’
‘All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players,’ quoted Masters with a glum expression on his face. ‘They have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts... ... ’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, do shut up,’ shouted Beverley and Kate Devenish in unison.
‘I think we’ve had enough of Shakespeare for one evening,’ added Quint, wishing to be with the majority as he always did.
‘You’ve got a lot to say for yourself this evening,’ accused Jessica Wilkes, ‘especially with what’s going on with you behind the scenes.’
‘What are you talking about?’ asked Quint puzzled.
‘I’m talking about the investigation being undertaken by the Inland Revenue on your accounts.’
‘What?’ The shop owner was completely flabbergasted by the comment. ‘What investigation?’ he demanded furiously.
‘We all know about it?’ continued the woman smartly.
‘Then you know absolutely nothing!’ snapped Quint, closing down the conversation so that no one knew whether the allegation was correct or false.
There ensued a pause as the members of the committee allowed a few brief moments to pass before the Chairman called the meeting to order again. ‘Come, come,’ he said quietly. ‘We don’t want acrimonius remarks or animosity to come between us.’
Kate Devenish gave a slight guffaw and Charter Beverley looked up at the ceiling as if seeking guidance from above.
‘Perhaps we should move to the increase in rent,’ suggested the Chairman, hoping to pass on from the last subject matter quickly before tempers began to get inflamed. It was always the same at the meetings. Some members would comment and make acrimonious remarks which would incite the others. Cattiness often ensued with the women; dull rhetoric occurred with the men. People would quickly lose their cool and end up almost fighting each other across the table. In a democracy, everyone had the right to their opinions and views and to relate them at the meeting. Sometimes Masters wished they were in a Communist or a Fascist state where he could pull the strings and prevent the internal battles and wars so common to this committee. However, beggars could not be choosers and he was stuck with the situation.
‘How much is the rent going up to?’ asked Gary Gibbons, as though it was important for him to know.
‘We’re charge twenty-five pounds for Saturday night from seven o’clock until eleven,’ replied the Chairman solemnly. ‘they want to increase it to thirty pounds.’
‘That’s a twenty per cent rise,’ retorted Quint sharply.
‘Brilliant!’ snapped Barbara Mackie sarcastically, still smarting over the incident earlier. ‘You certainly know how to do maths! It’s a pity you’re too impotent to do anything else!’
‘What can we do to stop it?’ asked Kate Devenish, shaking her head slowly at the impost.
Beverley snorted with mock amusement. ‘Stop it?’ he uttered, with his nose in the air. ‘How can anyone stop it. Inflation means that prices go up all the time. It’s a fact of life.’
‘Well I think it’s monstrous!’ complained Jessica Wilkes turning to the Chairman. ‘And I don’t want any quotations from the Bard on this!’
‘Heaven forbid!’ retorted Masters. ‘If it’s not appreciated, it’s not worth saying. That’s all I can say.’
‘Have we looked for another hall... one where the members can smoke and the rent is reasonable,’ asked Gary Gibbons.
‘You haven’t lived long in this village,’ said Jessica Wilkes acidly, ‘or you wouldn’t have asked that question. This is the only centre available built by a grant from the lottery people. There’s no other place around here. Many of our members haven’t cars and they rely on walking sticks. I’m damned sure no one’s going elsewhere on a Saturday night.’
‘That’s your opinion which comes riddled with personal conviction,’ countered Kate Devenish showing her ugly side.
‘Meaning?’ asked the other woman tersely.
‘It’s quite clear you don’t want to travel somewhere else so you intend to give in to these Shylocks who want their pound of flesh and pay the extra rent. It’s convenient for you!’
‘They say best men are moulded out of faults, and for the most become much more the better for being a little bad,’ quoted Masters from Measure for Measure.
‘I’m going to swipe you if you do that again,’ challenged Jessica Wilkes smartly. ‘I mean it. One more quote from Shakespeare and you’ll get my hand round your face!’
‘I think we should pay the increase,’ muttered Quint, a little unsure how his comment would be taken by the committee.
‘It’s only five pounds, I suppose,’ ventured Gary Gibbons. ‘We can increase the members subscriptions by ten pence a week to cover it surely.’
‘It’s the principle,’ rattled Beverley. ‘Give into them now and you’ll find another increase is demanded next year at this time. They won’t stop. However, if you resist, you’ll still have to pay the increase but it may be referred forward a few months at least. But it is inevitable. You’ll have to pay it sooner or later.’
‘Isn’t there a higher authority we can appeal to?’ asked Barbara Mackie. ‘Someone above the association?’
‘I’m afraid not,’ the Chairman told her. ‘The association is the be all and end all. They make their own rules and, if no one uses the c
entre, they’re not responsible to anyone.’
‘That’s hardly fair, is it?’ forwarded Kate Devenish. ‘I mean, everyone’s responsible to someone in this life.’
‘Well it’s quite clear they’re not,’ uttered Quint.
‘Can we go on to the next item, please,’ ventured the Chairman pressing on. ‘This is the one of locks on lavatory doors. Apparently, someone keeps stealing the locks on the ladies’ lavatory. I have no idea why this should happen but it does. Is there anyone here who knows something about it?’
Their election to the committee brought out the worst in them for a slanging match ensued, the like of which had never been heard before in the parish. Everyone started talking at once and Beverley received a clout around the head from Jessica Wilkes for his continued anti-feminist remarks. Immediately, the meeting deteriorated into a melee with Barbara Mackie screaming at Gary Gibbons for reporting the rumour that she had passed away, Kate Devinish took on Quint and told him a few home truths about himself, while Jessica Wilkes started fighting with John Masters. This debacle continued for some ten minutes until the Chairman managed to retrieve his gavel and struck the table three times with all his might. Everyone on the committee stopped in their tracks and adjusted their clothing, resuming their normal positions around the table.
‘I think that completes the order of business for this month,’ stated the Chairman, blowing out his cheeks as he tried to straighten his bow tie. ‘Shall we meet again in one month’s time? Is everyone agreed? Perhaps I can have a show of hands.’
They all raised their hands in the air and, as the gavel came down on the table for the final time, they rose from their seats and headed for the door.
