Someone on the board of trustees had hunted out a solid corporate job application template (we are seeking an exceptional candidate … a disruptive yet effective approach to facilitating change … multi-disciplinary experience in motivational strategy) but someone else had then zhuzhed it up with a generous sprinkling of angel dust (a passionate ally and advocate for a full spectrum of ideologies … open-minded, holistic and reactive …). The overall effect was The Apprentice, but covered in essential oils.

Tara scanned it for the part that mattered most to her: the salary range. And to her relief, it was within the bracket that would make the mortgage on the house work, with enough spare to pay the heating bills. Yes! She was so grateful to whatever universal force had made that happen that she sent a heartfelt prayer to the angel in charge of career development and personal finance.

The application form seemed straightforward enough, until Tara came to what looked like the longest tiebreaker in history: Please outline, in no more than 1,000 words, an occasion on which you have made a significant contribution to the mental health and/or community spirit of your local community.

Jacqueline couldn’t have made it easier for her to answer, and Tara knew it was her chance to shine. Her experience of direct action during the floods was exactly what they were looking for – she’d spent hours doing everything from human-chaining heirlooms to safety, to PTSD counselling.

The only problem was, now there was so much riding on the job, the words refused to come.

‘Do you need some help blowing your own trumpet?’ Diane asked her, when Tara told her about the job while the committee meeting was winding down into tea and biscuits. ‘I think your problem is fitting it into a thousand words.’

They were both in a good mood. It had been a fun meeting, for once. Plans had been submitted for the children’s playground outside Troutbridge Hall, which had led to some jovial reminiscing about roundabouts versus monkey bars, and then the mood boards had arrived to illustrate possible colour schemes for the kitchen and communal areas. Decisions were now being made that gave them hope that the hall would soon be a living community space again. Nobody could get excited about insulation, not even boring Peter from Planning, but swings in the shape of apples were a different matter.

‘Would you have a look?’ Tara trusted Diane. Her grammar was meticulous but her honesty was even more so. ‘I’ve always had a mental block about job applications –probably from Mum telling Toby not to show off all the time.’

‘This isn’t showing off. You’re the best person for the role.’ She nodded at Tara’s phone, where the job description was still open. ‘I can see you making a real success of this outreach project they mention.’