‘It’s all right for you to say!’ one man called out. ‘You weren’t there!’
‘With all due respect,’ I replied, ‘neither were you.’
There was a collective hiss of breath, followed by a stunned silence. I hoiked up my tights, and stepped into the breach.
‘These awful, painful, tragic events happened before a quarter of the village were even born. And for the rest of you, the sad truth is that those younger residents are moving away from here in busloads. Who’d want to stay in a village ripped apart by past conflict?’ I wanted to call it for what it was: bigotry, prejudice. But I thought about those one or two that might actually be listening to what I had to say, so I bit the words back.
‘What if that generation, and those who come after them, know Ferrington as the place that for over a thousand years was the top crossing place on the Maddon? That before the bridge, the ferrymen ensured vital goods were able to reach the towns and villages across the region? James Black once transported twenty-seven sheep in his boat in one crossing. Roundheads used it to escape the advancing Royalists in the civil war. Some even argue that Ferrington Bridge is the real location for Robin Hood’s infamous battle with Little John. What if your children grow up to be proud of this village, and all that it’s achieved? Rather than believing it’s a washed-up ghost village, only surviving on the bitter remains of anger?
‘No one, this town included, deserves to be known for its lowest, ugliest moment. Why don’t we remember Ferrington for its finest? I propose that we build a new bridge. A peace bridge. Signifying reconciliation, and forgiveness. A brighter future, that honours and remembers the past, but won’t be defined by one chunk of it. You don’t have to be an ex-mining town, known for what you’re not. Let’s decide who weare,and who we want to be, and letthatbe what counts.’
I paused to take another breath, my heart pounding. Daniel, Becky and Alice started clapping.
No one else joined them.
‘I think we’ve all decided whatyouare!’ Sue Johnson, the New Sider who’d started all this, had the audacity to shout.
‘Yeah, and it’s not one of us!’
‘How dare you call us washed-up!’ someone else cried. ‘A ghost town? Living in the past? Those New Siders are just as much a load of treacherous bottom-feeders as they ever were!’
‘Yeah! Bottom-feeders who belong on the bottom of the Maddon!’ The older woman with the pointy finger then tossed her drink in my direction (it landed several metres short, splattering her own coat), and hobbled out, deliberately shoving into Geoff as she passed him. Within a matter of moments, a stream of villagers, Old and New, trooped after her.
In the end, only Ziva and her husband, Becky and Alice, Daniel and five other people remained. Three of them looked to be in their twenties, the other two were Geoff and Sue.
‘For what it’s worth, we appreciate what you were trying to do,’ Sue said, her arm tucked into Geoff’s. ‘But you had no place, tricking us all into coming here and not being up front and honest about it. Even if you were right, with all that stuff about money and pooling resources, and yeah, maybe it is time to lay the past to rest, give the next generation a chance. But this was not the way to go about it.’
And with that, the Johnsons turned and left too.
I retrieved a crumpled tissue from my pocket and wiped my forehead.
‘Um,’ one of the remaining guests cleared their throat. ‘We didn’t get our last two samples.’
‘Here,’ Daniel handed each of them a bottle of cider. ‘Thanks for coming.’
‘Er, I don’t think so!’ Alice said, snatching a bottle back from one of them. ‘She was the one said they should throw Eleanor in the river!’ She waved the bottle threateningly. ‘Now get out of here!’
‘Well, that could have gone a lot worse.’ Daniel stepped up and bumped my side with his elbow.
‘You think?’
‘The barn’s still standing, no one got hurt. They dispersed in an orderly fashion without the police needing to be called. I’d say that’s a major win.’
‘Might want to check your tyres aren’t slashed, though…’ Alice said.
‘I don’t know,’ Becky mused. ‘I’m really surprised by how well they all listened. I genuinely thought when you climbed onto those pallets that you might be leaving in an ambulance.’
‘Well, I tried, anyway. And at least people seemed to like the food.’
‘You got seventy-three people from both sides of the river together, in one place, enjoying themselves,’ Ziva added.
‘Yeah, for a whole fifteen minutes.’ I sliced off a piece of Wensleydale and went to take a bite before realising that I couldn’t stomach it.
‘Fifteen minutes more than anyone else has managed!’ Ziva took the cheese and stuck it in her mouth. ‘At the very least, you gave us all a great deal to think about. And whatever they may have said, however fiercely they marched out, they’ll have gone home thinking about it. I know this to be true, because I’ll be one of them. Some of them will have to admit, however reluctantly, that you were right. And next time a New Sider needs the doctor, or an Old Sider drags her child out of bed at some unearthly hour to catch the school bus, they’ll remember what you said. Now, we’ll be off. I suggest you use the remains of the damson wine to celebrate an evening that Ferrington will be gossiping about for years to come. Becky will stay and help you clear up.’
‘Is that doctor’s orders?’ Becky asked.
‘It is.’
