Reason to Celebrate.

“Oh my goodness, I don’t believe it.” Madge sat down and put on her spectacles before reading the letter again. But it was true; the local planning office was informing her that Mr. James Armstrong of The Grange had applied for permission to open a supermarket in the village. Any objections should be put in writing.                    
            Objections! Of course she had objections. What would become of her grocery shop if a supermarket were to open? She looked out into the street towards the other three shops that served the small village. Had they received a copy of the letter? A supermarket would affect them too.
            Though James Armstrong and his wife had lived in the village for a number of years, they’d never fitted in. They had always refused to join in any local activities, declaring such pastimes were childish and beneath their dignity.
            James, being a wealthy businessman, rather fancied himself as a country gentleman. He was often seen striding around the village as though he owned it. His wife usually drove around in a large open-topped car, showing off her designer clothes.
            Madge had never been keen on either of them. She didn’t like their hoity-toity attitude towards the villagers. They seldom shopped locally, much preferring to have their groceries delivered by one of the large stores in the city. “They have so much more to offer,” James had said on more than one occasion. “Why anyone would want to shop locally beats me.”
            So then why on earth should James Armstrong want to open a supermarket? But on reflection, the reason was obvious. The village was slowly increasing in size and James wanted a piece of the action. Families were coming here from the city in search of a more peaceful lifestyle.
            With modern machinery available to them, farmers no longer retained large numbers of farmhands. This being so, many of the small cottages, which had once housed them, had been sold off. Even lowly barns and other farm buildings, were being converted into ‘homes for the more discerning families’, as the estate agent put it.
            But even more alarming, John Pearce the local small builder had also seized the opportunity to make himself some money and was seeking permission to build a dozen houses on a piece of ground at the edge of the village.
            He himself had kept very quiet about it, avoiding awkward questions from the locals. But Madge had read the planning application notice in the local paper a couple of weeks ago.
            She sighed. It was such a shame. That land had been a children’s playground for as long as she could remember. It would soon be lost if John Pearce got his way. The village was changing and all for the worse. Now there was to be a supermarket. What would be next?
            Fred from the bakery next door strode into the shop, interrupting her thoughts. 
            “You’ve seen it then.” He nodded towards the letter in her hand. “What do you make of it?”
            “Naturally I’m unhappy about it. But what can we do?”
            “What we need is a really good reason why the village doesn’t want a supermarket.” Fred banged his fist down hard on the counter making Madge jump.
            “Or an even better reason why the village doesn’t need a new housing estate.” Madge added, thoughtfully. “Without the housing project, James may not want a supermarket.”
            “Yes, you’re right there. I never was in favour of the new houses even though they might have been good for business. They’ll spoil the whole character of the village. I’d hate that. Look, I’d better go. A customer has gone into my shop. Let’s all get together this evening and have a discussion.”
            Madge agreed and once Fred left the shop, she tried to think of something to put an end to the housing scheme. But she failed to come up with anything. Unless one of the others had a solution, the project would be allowed to go ahead.  
            Looking at her watch, she realised Jean would be here shortly. Jean was a cheerful sort, who came in three days a week to help out. No doubt she would be interested to hear about the supermarket. Madge put the kettle on. News like this deserved tea and biscuits.
            Over their tea Madge told Jean about the letter and how the four shopkeepers were getting together that evening to discuss the situation.
            “I agree with you,” said Jean. “Putting an end to the housing scheme would stop the supermarket. But the four of you arguing with the planning department won’t change anything. If you really mean business, you need to get the whole village involved.”
            Jean was right; the village should be involved. But Madge wondered if any one would be really interested? Some may not mind new homes in the village.
            “Of course they’ll mind.” Jean looked determined. “They’d be fools not to. This is their village for heaven’s sake. It’ll be spoiled if they don’t do something about it. New homes mean more traffic and then what? Before you know it we’ll have a large filling station and so it goes on. But they all need to know what’s going on. Not many read planning applications.”
            Madge thought about John. He was building the new homes; surely he wouldn’t spoil the village. He would have to live with the outcome. But Jean almost exploded when she mentioned it.
            “John Pearce won’t be living here once the houses are finished. I have it on good authority he’s planning to move out immediately they’re sold.”
            Madge looked at Jean in disbelief. “Move out? Are you sure? I can’t believe it. John’s lived here all his life. We were at school together.”
            “Of course I’m sure.” Jean poured out another cup of tea. “My son has been seeing rather a lot of his daughter and she was telling him about her father’s plans. And there’s something else that might interest you. Only last night, I heard that the houses won’t stop at twelve. There’ll be more than four times that number before he’s finished. He’s going to make a packet and run. So what do you think about that?”
            Madge was fuming. So they were going to be stuck with a large housing estate, a supermarket and that was only the beginning. Other builders would soon jump on the bandwagon.
            However, Madge wasn’t able to tell Jean what she really thought, as the first of the morning’s customers came in.
            Leaving Jean to hold the fort, Madge dashed across to the other shops and told the owners what she had learned. Between them they agreed to inform all their customers that a meeting would be held in the church hall on Friday evening. Being all of three days away, gave them the time to let everyone know.
            “I’ll call on old Mr. Amos,” said Fred. “I know he’ll probably fall asleep during the meeting, but he likes to be involved.”
            Madge nodded. Mr. Amos was a much loved and respected member of the village. During his long life he had fought in two world wars and had worked his way through the education ranks, finally becoming vice-chancellor at a leading university.
            Nowadays, he spent much of his time sitting in the garden watching the world go by. Or perhaps it would be more truthful to say sleeping, as the world passed him by. 
            The next morning, Madge had a visit from James Armstrong. He had heard about the meeting to oppose his supermarket and was extremely angry.
            “What are you playing at? The village deserve better than the likes of this.” He waved his hands around, indicating he was referring to Madge’s shop. “I’ll give them more choice. That’s what people want today, woman, choice. Not what little you stock here.”
            His face had gone quite red, Madge was alarmed he might cause himself some mischief. “Calm yourself, Mr. Armstrong. That’s what the meeting is about; an opportunity for the people to choose what they want.”
            “Once I tell them my prices will be cheaper, they’ll agree to my supermarket,” James insisted. “Just you wait and see. This village will have reason to celebrate on Friday evening.” He turned and left the shop, slamming the door behind him.
            Madge was concerned. James could be right. People always wanted cheaper prices. If he were to buy in bulk, he could afford to sell the goods more cheaply. But would he? After the first week or two, would he raise the prices again, giving inflation as an excuse?
            Though John Pearce was unhappy about the village meeting, he was quietly confident that his application would be approved by the council. As far as they were concerned, it would bring in more community charges.
            “Just think of it, Madge, brand new houses. Isn’t it exciting?” It was obvious he was hoping his enthusiasm would rub off on her. With her on his side, the meeting would be a walkover. “Why you might even like one for yourself. Naturally as a friend from school days, I’d give you first choice and at a discount. They’ll have lovely fitted kitchens and bathrooms. I can see you in one, can’t you?”
            But Madge was having none of it.
            “No I can’t,” she retorted. “And you should be ashamed of yourself, building on that land. Children have played there for years, where will they go now?”
            But he merely shrugged his shoulders and walked out. Madge knew he didn’t care, after ruining the village, he would move on.
            The rest of the week was a nightmare. James took every opportunity to tell the gang of five, poor Jean having been added to their number, that they were all wasting their time. “You all have your heads stuck in the sand. You’re so pig-headed.”
            “Make your mind up, man; are we ostriches or pigs?” Fred called out on one occasion. They had all laughed, making James even more annoyed. But they all knew that he would still win if the council granted permission for the housing project.
            Concerned about the proposed changes, the meeting attracted most of the village. Even old Mr. Amos had turned up. Fred opened the meeting by thanking everyone for coming.
            Madge looked at Mr. Amos and smiled. His eyes were shut; he had fallen asleep already. Just then the door burst open and James strode in, John followed close behind. “We’re here because we have a right to be heard too. The villagers should hear all the facts.”
Fred stepped down to make way for the two men. “You’d best say your piece then.”
            John spoke first, telling them the housing estate would be good for the village.
            “How?” asked someone at the back.  
             “Well, it will bring new life to us all.”
            “What do you mean by ‘us all’,” Madge called out. “As I understand it, you’re leaving once the project is completed.”    
            John turned beetroot. He couldn’t deny it.
            “You idiot,” hissed Mr. Armstrong. “How did that get out? Couldn’t you keep your mouth shut?”
            Pushing John out of the way, he looked down at the audience and smiled. “The housing will be a good thing for us all by bringing new and exciting businesses to the village; for instance, my supermarket.” He paused and pointed at Madge and the others. “They’re only looking out for themselves. My goods will be cheaper.” After explaining a little more, he stepped down.
            Fred asked if anyone objected to the housing project. Everyone put up their hand.
            “That doesn’t mean it won’t go ahead,” James yelled out in desperation. “Just because you can’t move with the times, doesn’t mean the project is wrong. Once the council decides in favour of it, my supermarket will…”
            “John can’t build on that land.” Everyone looked towards Mr. Amos.
            “Yes, we know,” Fred explained gently. “That’s why we’re here. But I’m not sure we can stop the council from agreeing to John’s proposals and…”
            “No. You don’t understand,” Mr. Amos interrupted. “The council can’t agree; the land doesn’t belong to them.” He paused and looked around the hall. “It belongs to all of you. It was bequeathed to the village over two hundred years ago by Thomas Hargrove, the then Lord of the Manor. A charter was established, which declares that the land cannot be sold or used for anything without the consent of every member of the village.”
            Everyone was stunned. Pulling herself together, Madge asked if he was sure.  
            “Of course I’m sure. A copy of the document is in the library archives, but the original is held in London.”
            “Well I’ll be blowed,” said Fred. “Mr. Amos, I’m going to treat you to a large brandy across at the pub.”
The community, delighted with the outcome, followed Fred down the lane to the pub. James and John sat down, they were speechless.
            On reaching the door, Madge looked back at the two men. “Aren’t you coming? After all, it was you who said we’d have reason to celebrate this evening. Though I must admit, I don’t think this is quite what you had in mind.”

The End