Join The Club
The group’s numbers were falling fast. Something had to be done!
FLORRIE was furious. Albert, the caretaker, had broken the news when she arrived at Basilwade Community Centre for her weekly Knit and Natter club.
The hall where they’d met each Wednesday for two years was no longer available. She could have a very small room at the back of the centre.
“Knitting requires space for elbows and needles to pump like pistons,” she argued. “Space this tiny room doesn’t provide. It’ll be on your conscience if someone gets stabbed!” Albert shrugged. “You can’t expect Miss Sanchez to teach Zumba in here. There’s not enough room to swing a cat.”
And that had been that. Knit and Natter had been ousted by Zumba.
As the members arrived, Florrie shared the news.
“Outrageous!” Edna said. “I’ll talk to Albert myself!”
“No. Albert’s just the caretaker; this decision’s come from higher up.”
“Higher up?” Margaret Wilson was behind Edna.
“Albert seems quite happy about it,” Florrie went on. “It’ll be all those women in leotards, I bet. Well, let’s get started.”
“Rita can’t come this morning.”
“Nor Harriet,” Edna said. “Well, let’s hope Sebastian turns up, or we’ll be down to three and Knit and Natter might as well close. We won’t be able to afford even a cupboard.”
Sebastian rushed into the room and slammed the door, his eyes wide.
“What’s the matter, dear?” Edna asked. He blushed.
“That woman thought I was in her Zumba class. I told her I was here for Knit and Natter but she made me do a Merengue March before she’d let me go!” “What’s that?” “Well, you throw one arm out to the side and bend the other so your hand’s touching your chest.” He demonstrated. “You wiggle your bottom, and march.”
“Watch it!” Margaret said. “You nearly had my eye out.”
“Right, let’s get knitting,” Florrie said. “While we do, any ideas for the Basilwade Clubs’ Award? We’ve to demonstrate how we’re embracing the future.”
“Knit more squares and make more blankets?” Margaret suggested. “We did that last year.” “And we’ve lost Rita and Harriet,” Sebastian added. “I saw them in Zumba.”
“Well, if knitting isn’t enough, perhaps we need to concentrate on nattering, and discuss topical things like Brexit.”
“How can we prove we’ve done that?”
There was silence apart from the clicking of knitting needles and Miss Sanchez chanting “One, two and a one, two, three, four” to a Latin beat in the hall.
“We might as well close the club now.” Florrie sighed. “We can’t possibly compete with Zumba.” “Well,” Sebastian began. “I think you’re right, dear,” Edna interrupted. He tried again. “Perhaps . . .”
“If only we could put a modern twist on knitting,” Florrie fretted.
“We can!” Sebastian cried. “If you’ll let me speak, ladies, I know how.”
The night before the final, Florrie, Edna and Margaret hid in the shadows of Basilwade town square, waiting for Sebastian.
They were dressed in black, each clutching a bag.
“I’m not sure about this,” Edna whispered.
“How many times? We’re not going to blow anything up,” Florrie said. “It’s just an expression.”
“What if we get caught? My husband’s a bank manager. Suppose I get a criminal record?”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Margaret put in.
“Ready, ladies? Have you got the equipment?” Sebastian asked, creeping up on them from behind.
Edna squealed in fright and dropped her bag.
The mayor of Basilwade stepped on to the dais in the town hall.
“Ladies and gents, welcome to the Basilwade Community Club Competition Finals. Here are the winners.” He opened the envelope. “In third place, the Basilwade Chess Club, who are introducing games using half the number of chess pieces for busy people always on the go.” There was applause. “In second place is the Basilwade Photographic Club, who have set up new courses for taking selfies.” More applause. “And the winner is . . .” “Come on!” a red-haired man shouted.
“Basilwade Knit and Natter for their innovative use of yarn-bombing to decorate the town!” “Yarn-bombing?”
“It’s when people
use knitted items to decorate public places,” the mayor said, as if he hadn’t had to ask his secretary to explain.
“Oh. I wondered why all the trees in the town square had scarves,” the red-haired man said.
“Yeah, and why the lampposts are wearing bobble hats,” another said.
“Those knitted flowers look lovely on the railings,” a lady said. “Cheery. What a great idea!”
“Is there a waiting list for Knit and Natter?” the red-haired man asked. “I’d like to join.”
“Me, too,” others said.
“There!” Florrie laid the cheque on the table in front of Sebastian, Edna and Margaret. “Two hundred pounds, and the offer of a large room in the newly refurbished town hall.”
She produced another piece of paper.
“And a list of prospective members, including the mayor. It looks like Knit and Natter has been saved.”
“Thanks to Sebastian,” Margaret decided.
“Yes, it certainly is,” Edna said, “although I must admit I was worried to begin with.
“Yarn-bombing sounded much more violent than it turned out to be. But what a triumph!” Sebastian blushed.
“It was a team effort,” he said modestly. “But while everyone’s in a good mood, I wonder if I could suggest we change our meeting day to Thursday?
“I’d quite like to join Miss Sanchez’s Zumba class at the community centre on Wednesday. I’ve been practising the Merengue March and, if I say so myself, I’m getting really good.”
“Ooh, show me!” Margaret said. “I’ve always fancied learning Zumba.”
Sebastian struck the pose and demonstrated.
“I’m not sure about all that wiggling, but I’ll give it a go,” Edna decided.
“I’ve a leotard up in the loft,” Florrie said. “Count me in.” ■