The Switch(57)

After that, Ethan’s all conciliatory and agreeable; he says he’ll come along to the May Day Committee meeting, even though it starts at eight a.m. today (why, Betsy?) and I give him a clear out (‘if you need to work …’).

When we walk into the village hall together every head swivels our way. Ethan, somewhat taken aback, mutters Jesus before plastering on his best taking-out-clients smile and working his way around doing introductions.

‘Hi. I’m Ethan Coleman,’ he says to Betsy.

He’s speaking loudly and slowly, as if Betsy’s deaf; I wince as her eyebrows rise. He does this with all the elderly people in the room – Penelope actually flinches a little, and she must be used to people yelling, given that she lives with Roland. Crap. I should have briefed him a bit before we got here.

Jackson is last to the meeting, as usual – not quite late enough to be late, but always last, and always greeted with a chorus of adoring hellos from the elderly in the room. He glances at Ethan, who clocks him and stands up again, stretching a hand out for him to shake.

‘Ethan Coleman.’

‘Jackson.’

‘Good to know there’s someone else under the age of a hundred around here,’ Ethan says, dropping his voice and flashing Jackson a grin.

Jackson looks at him for a moment. ‘These are good people,’ he says.

‘Oh, of course! Of course. I guess I just wasn’t expecting so many grannies. I kind of imagine it to be all miners and farmers up here, you know, going oh, aye and ’ow do, love.’

I wince. Ethan pulls a face when he does the Yorkshire accent, as though he’s trying to look stupid – I’m not sure he even knows he’s done it, but it’s made Jackson’s eyes narrow a fraction.

‘Sorry,’ Jackson says, ‘you are?’

‘Ethan Coleman,’ Ethan repeats, then, faced with Jackson’s blank expression, he straightens up a little more. ‘Leena’s boyfriend.’

Jackson’s eyes flick to my face. ‘Ah,’ he says. ‘You’ve come up to visit, then.’

‘I would’ve come before, but it’s not easy for me to get away from London,’ Ethan says. ‘People counting on me, millions at stake, that sort of thing.’

This is said entirely without irony. I blush, standing up and putting my hand on his arm.

‘Come on, Ethan, let’s sit down.’

‘Remind me what you do, Jackson?’ Ethan says, brushing me off.

‘I’m a teacher,’ Jackson says. ‘No millions at stake. Just futures.’

‘Don’t know how you do it. I couldn’t spend all day with kids without my brain going numb.’

We’re in the centre of the room, now, and the May Day planning committee members are watching from their seats, utterly compelled, like this is a play in the round. I tug on Ethan’s arm; he shakes me off again, shooting me a frown.

‘Will you sit down, please?’ I say sharply.

Ethan’s eyes narrow. ‘What? Jackson and I are just getting to know each other.’

‘You’re right, we should get started,’ Jackson says and walks to his seat.

Only when he’s sitting down does Ethan let me pull him back to his own chair. I stare down at my feet, heart thumping with embarrassment.

‘Right!’ calls Betsy, with patent delight. ‘Well! How exciting. Ahem. Let’s talk bonfires. Leena, are you ready?’

Deep breath.

‘Absolutely,’ I say, pulling my pen and notepad out of my bag. I try to collect myself. Ethan doesn’t mean any harm; he just gets a bit macho and defensive when he thinks there’s another Type A guy in the room, that’s all. Everyone will understand when he’s got his temper back. He can just charm them all another time. It’s fine. Not a disaster.

‘You’re taking minutes?’ Ethan says.

My cheeks heat again. ‘Yeah. It’s what my grandma does.’

Ethan laughs then, a too-loud laugh that gets everyone looking. ‘When was it you last took minutes, Leena Cotton?’

‘A while ago,’ I say, keeping my voice down. I can feel Jackson watching us across the circle.

Betsy clears her throat pointedly.

‘Sorry!’ I say. ‘Bonfires. I’m ready, Betsy.’

I ignore Ethan’s glances and get on with my minutes. Having him here is making the meeting feel different – I’m seeing it from his point of view, like when someone watches your favourite TV show and all of a sudden you realise how rubbish the production values are. I can see Jackson watching Ethan, too, steady and unreadable.

I try to concentrate on the meeting. Betsy is explaining ‘for any newcomers’ (so, Ethan) that May Day is a traditional Gaelic festival celebrated here in Hamleigh for generations. She’s getting really deep-dive on the mythology for something that is essentially just the usual quirky British fayre-type merriment, only with a maypole.

Astonishingly little is achieved in the meeting, except that I’ve got lumbered with finding a May Queen and a May King for the parade, which is going to be tricky when the only people I know in Hamleigh are present, and don’t really like me. But I don’t want to say no to Betsy, so I’ll have to think of something.

I pack up and leave the meeting as soon as it’s done.

‘Leena?’ Ethan says as I head for the door, dodging Piotr, who is trying to stop Penelope hauling Roland out of his seat on her own. ‘Leena, slow down!’