Using the old collection box, which had a slot for visitors’ money, each person cast their vote. From the ten people who stood, Charlie and Frank joined two others, Jean and Linda, on the Council. Bet and Wilma became judges; two fierce women no-one would mess with. Suzanne had not stood for any office, the rumour being she was upset at not just having her authority simply handed back. Warm firelight lit the room. With everyone gathered inside, spread out amongst the pews, it felt safe and normal. Charlie got up to speak, “Thank you everyone. As agreed, we’ll vote again next year. The Council will run the village on behalf of the people. The Judges will arbitrate on disagreements, by the authority of the Council, but independent of it.” Frank asked, trying to be jovial, “A speech already, Charlie?” There was a big laugh. Smiling, Charlie said, “You’re right. Let’s toast the future. Slàinte.” He raised a glass of whisky. There were choruses of agreement and everyone drank.
