‘Okay.’ I put my half-eaten doughnut down and opened up a spreadsheet. ‘A few Outlaws would like us to have pole dancing sessions. Is that a dream you’d like to make possible, Dad?’
‘Oh, no,’ Mum groaned, the nose crease deepening in distaste. ‘Did they mean hiring women to do the dancing, or watching some of our women having a go?’
‘I’m not sure which of those is less grim,’ Dad said. ‘Either way, it’s revolting to think men want to demean women in that way on our premises. You’d better give me some names so I can have a word with them about the Barn values of respect.’
‘The keenest two were Marjorie Spellman and Hana Shu. They reckon they’d be pretty good at it. Hana has a negligee that she thinks would be perfect.’
Dad looked at Mum.
‘I can talk to them, but it won’t make any difference,’ she muttered.
I scanned my list. ‘Other discarded suggestions include setting up a bungee jump, paintballing, elephant rides, strip poker, strip bingo and strippers.’
‘The ones that you definitely want to include?’ Dad asked, with a resigned shake of his head as he took another doughnut.
‘I’ve spoken to Wendy about the Great Barnish Bake-Off. I think she’s followed up with you?’
Dad pointed to a typed list crammed with bullet points. ‘Her thoughts on the matter. Don’t worry, we’ve told her it’s happening and you’re in charge.’
‘Great!’ I tried to hide my shudder of trepidation. ‘Also, a lot of the Outlaws are requesting activities with animals. The group who travel over from the sheltered housing aren’t allowed pets, and some of them are heartbroken about having to give up their cats or dogs. I’ve had a quick chat with the charity Elliot works for, and they’d be happy to provide a petting session with some of their training dogs for a reasonable donation. Animal therapy can work wonders for emotional and mental health, so it seems worth giving a try. On a slightly more ambitious note, some of the Outlaws are used to much larger animals. I’d really love to see if we can get any of them on a horse. Or at the very least, to give one a groom.’
‘Bring horses, here?’ Mum asked. ‘And let people ride them? I wouldn’t be surprised if someone jumped the fence and made a break for it.’
‘Come on now, Pippa, they’re free citizens, not prisoners!’ Dad said.
‘No, but neither are they free to steal a horse and go gallivanting across the open hills.That’swhat they miss. Not giving a pony’s coat a brush.’
‘I really don’t think Madeline will jump any fences,’ I said. ‘I’ll do all the risk assessments, and make sure there’s adequate supervision.’
‘Oh, is it Madeline?’ Mum’s eyes instantly softened. ‘In that case, then, yes. Let’s see if we can make it work. I don’t know what that woman did for you that summer, but I know I’ll never be able to repay her.’
I coughed, keeping my gaze firmly on my laptop even as the flush bloomed across my cheeks. I quickly moved on to some of the other ideas, including the genealogy sessions, woodworking and some new, interactive quizzes, all of which my parents gave an enthusiastic green light to. I’d got a few suggestions left.
‘Another key theme that came up is how people hate the formality around physical contact.’
Dad grimaced. ‘Are we back in the pole dancing arena?’
‘Jessie,’ Mum added, ‘we have safeguarding protocols for a reason. This isn’t some 1970s care home where you can manhandle people without a thought for their own dignity.’
‘No, but for some of them, the only time anyone touches them is to help them out of a chair or down a step. Arabella Goose said that she sometimes pretends she struggles with her cardigan because when one of the staff help her get it on it’s the closest she gets to a hug these days.’
We all paused to absorb that information. Mrs Goose, who had held the hands and wiped the tears of thousands of primary school children in her time. And, yes, hugged them when they needed it, even if that was frowned upon nowadays. This formidable headteacher, admitting that she faked her own infirmity for a few seconds of human contact.
‘It’s another reason for the petting sessions, so they get to touch another creature, but I don’t think that’s a substitute for a person,’ I went on once Dad had given his nose a good blow, sneaking the tissue up to his eyes for a discreet dab. ‘Especially not for Frannie, who’s violently allergic to dog hair. I wondered whether we could bring in some beauty therapists to do massages – even if it’s just hands or heads – and manicures, pedis, facials. Hair styling, maybe even some delicate make-up.’
‘Jessie, that’s brilliant!’ Mum said, her voice tight with emotion. ‘It’s perfectly in line with the whole ethos of the Barn, to make people feel loved, and treasured. How have we never thought of this before?’
‘Because we were too busy putting out fires – metaphorical and literal, running a staff team, helping our 20 per cent of clientele who have dementia and the 60 per cent with mobility or other limiting health issues? Making people feel welcome, and keeping them as safe as we can?’ Dad suggested. ‘That’s why we needed Jessie.’
‘This doesn’t sound cheap, though,’ Mum added. ‘How does it fit with the budget?’
‘Well, I wasn’t sure it did, until I spoke to Ada and May.’
‘Oh, those two have caused more grief than most of the others put together!’ Dad exclaimed. ‘They’re pure trouble.’
‘What they are is intelligent, vivacious women who are bored. And feeling useless.’ Talking to Ada and May had been yet another tender tug on my battered heart. They’d won me over the second they’d told me they were twins. Then, Ada had pulled out my ponytail and deftly retied it in a way that suited me twice as much and looked three times more stylish. ‘Did you know they used to run a mobile beauty parlour from a purple VW campervan? They’d visit a different location each day of the week – the Hatherstone campsite in Sherwood Forest, local markets. They also visited care homes and did hair and nails for free, only stopping a few years ago when the van broke down and May’s arthritis meant she couldn’t keep up with five days a week.’
‘They must be well past seventy by now,’ Mum said. ‘Although, they do both look amazing. They’ve got taste, I’ll give them that.’
