Free Face the Wind and Fly by Jenny Harper

does that mean you’re cooking?’
    Kate was a terrible cook. Where Andrew could conjure up a gourmet meal out of nothing, she could ruin a fillet steak in an instant. She ignored Ninian’s remark. ‘Beans on toast or eggs and sausage?’
    ‘Okay to feed Cuzzer and Banksy too?’ He opened the door a little wider and across a carpet littered with paper and socks and discarded wrappers, she saw Ninian’s two friends lounging on the bed.
    ‘Hi! I didn’t realise you were here.’
    Cuzzer – Stephen Cousins – was a sharp-featured lad with what she knew to be an equally sharp tongue. Elliott Banks had a mop of dark auburn hair and an open, pleasant face. He rose now. ‘You’re all right, thanks,’ he said, ‘I’d best be going.’
    ‘Me too.’ Cuzzer unwound his skinny legs and stood up. His head was shaved almost to the bone. ‘Get you down the road, Banksy.’
    Ninian scowled. ‘You don’t have to go,’ he said, ‘she’s going out.’
    ‘Nah. Ta.’ Cuzz squeezed past her, eyes averted, head down. He looked shifty, but then he always did.
    ‘Mum’ll be expecting me,’ Banksy said, smiling at Kate as he waited for her to step aside. ‘See you tomorrow, Nins.’
    ‘Okay. See you.’
    ‘Bye,’ Kate called as the two lads disappeared down the stairs. The front door closed behind them.
    ‘Where’s Dad?’
    ‘He had a meeting with the Bishop.’ But that had been this morning—
    Ninian grunted. ‘Seems like he’s been having a lot of meetings recently.’
    ‘He’s researching his new book.’
    Another grunt.
    ‘So what would you like to eat?’
    ‘Everything.’
    She managed to produce the meal more or less without mishap – the eggs were hard and the toast slightly burnt, but things could have been much worse. Kate cleared the plates into the dishwasher and tidied her scarf. ‘I’ve got to go, love. I’m sure Dad’ll be back soon. You all right?’
    ‘Course.’
    She picked up her briefcase and kissed the top of his head. Ninian flicked on the television and grabbed a banana from the fruit bowl. Kate said, ‘Bye, then.’
    There was no response, not even a grunt.

Chapter Eight
    When Kate arrived at the village hall, the table was already set up for the Council meeting. She hadn’t expected the additional rows of chairs behind the table, though, at the back of the hall. There were going to be observers and the chairs were already filling up. She spotted a woman from the tennis club and May and Jerry Nesbitt, the current tenants of Forgie House, among other familiar faces.
    ‘What do you think?’ she hissed at AeGen’s community liaison officer, Gail.
    ‘Shows interest.’
    Kate disliked public speaking, even though she had to do it all the time. She looked around for clues about how the evening might go. There were three members of the Community Council already seated at the table. Frank Griffiths (who was chairing), a local farmer, and a lawyer, who she knew was on the board of the Forgie House Trust. As she took her place, two more women appeared.
    One of them said, ‘Good evening,’ and smiled. ‘I’m Nicola Arnott. I’m head teacher at Summerfield Primary School.’
    It was a warm smile. Kate shook her hand. ‘Hi. Nice to meet you.’
    ‘And this is Mary Tolen.’ Nicola drew the other woman forward.
    ‘Evenin’.’
    Kate understood the importance of these committees. They might have no real decision-making powers, but she’d learned the lesson long ago that all politics is local and that an active Community Council had a strong influence, particularly on planning matters. Would the women be allies or foes? The next hour or so would tell.
    ‘Mrs Courtenay,’ Frank started formally when they were seated at the table, ‘why don’t you take a few minutes to address the Council?’
    The manner of address unnerved her, so she sprang to her feet, sending her papers flying across the table. She had to spend an embarrassing minute collecting them again, and started