Village Matters by Rebecca Shaw

Goodnight.’
    ‘Goodnight, and thank you.’

Chapter 8
    Dawn was just breaking when Malcolm the milkman brought his van to a standstill beside Jimmy’s garden fence. ‘Morning Mr Glover. You’re up and about in good time. Not often I see you on the go so early nowadays.’
‘No, well, I’ve got a project in ‘and. Are yer wanting yer money?’
    ‘If yer like, but it can wait till next week if yer busy.’
    ‘I’ll go inside and get it. I’ve turned over a new leaf since I ’ad that big win.’
    ‘Are you still filling ’em in?’
    ‘No, I’m not. I’m not greedy. ‘Angon.’
    Malcolm waited while Jimmy went inside to get his money. Beside the fence was a big fourteen-pound hammer. Stacked neatly against the wall of the house were ready-made timber panels, which looked as though they would make a shed when put together.
    After Jimmy had paid him, Malcolm couldn’t resist asking what Jimmy’s intentions were.
    ‘Making a new chicken house.’
    ‘But you’ve got one already.’
    ‘I know I ’ave, but that’s coming down and a new one, nearer the house, is going up.’
‘I see. Why?’
    ‘Wait and see.’ Jimmy turned away and began work on the rough ground about twelve feet nearer the house than the old chicken run. Malcolm had to leave it at that, as Jimmy obviously had no intention of revealing what he had in mind.
    Vera and Pat tolerated the hammering for most of the morning before coming out to protest.
    Pat shouted across Vera’s garden, ‘Look, it’s grand to see you working hard, but ’ow much longer is this banging going on for? My head’s absolutely spinning.’
    ‘And mine as well. What are yer doing, Jimmy?’
    ‘You’ll see, you’ll see.’
    ‘Making a new chicken run by the looks of it. What will yer do with the old one?’
    ‘Knock it down.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘Wait and see. Yer going to ’ave the surprise of your life shortly.’
    ‘That’ll be the day. Well, if yer won’t tell us then, when this surprise appears I for one won’t
be
surprised, I’ll ignore it.’
    ‘Do that then.’
    ‘Winning that money ‘as gone to your ’ead, Jimmy Glover, that’s what.’
    Flick Charter-Plackett stopped to have a word with him after lunch.
    ‘Hello, Mr Glover. Will you sponsor me for Brownies? I’ve got my list here and a pen.’ She held up a smart clipboard she’d purloined from Jimbo’s office.
    Jimmy leant on his fourteen-pound hammer, pushed his cap to the back of his head, and asked her what she would have to do for it.
    ‘It’s a sponsored silence. I’ve to promise not to say a word for a whole hour and then Brown Owl signs my sheet and I can collect the money.’
‘You! Keep silent for one whole hour? You can’t keep silent for one whole minute!’
    ‘I can if I try. My Daddy gave me fifty pence for keeping quiet for one whole hour when we set off on our holidays. He said he needed peace and quiet to pull himself together after he’d struggled to organise us all. So Fergus and Finlay and me, we sat in the back of the car and never spoke for an hour. Mummy said it was like heaven. So I can do it.’
    ‘’Ow much ’as your Dad promised?’
    ‘Well, he’s promised five pence a minute, but that’s because he thinks with all those girls there I won’t manage it, but I shall. But you can give me one pence a minute if you like. That’s what Mrs Wright next door has promised me.’
    ‘If she’s promised you one pence I’ll give you two pence. ’Ave you asked Mrs Duckett?’
    ‘I’m going there next, she wasn’t in when I called before.’
    ‘Put her name down and I’ll give you two pence a minute for ’er and don’t bother to ask ’er, right? And don’t let on?’
    Flick nodded sagely, ‘Oh right, I understand. That’s very thoughtful of you, Mr Glover.’ After she’d carefully written in the names and amounts, Flick asked Jimmy what he was doing.
    ‘Well now, Flick, it could be said that my moment has arrived. There comes a time in a