‘It is run by a democratically elected council consisting of an equal number of members from each side!’ Malcolm stuffed his hands in his tweed jacket pockets, his pointy white beard bristling.

‘Elected? I don’t remember any Parish Council elections,’ DJ Vapes said, glancing around to see if he was the only one.

Malcolm coloured slightly. ‘We only have an election if the number of people standing is greater than the number of positions. So we haven’t had an actual election for a while.’

‘How long’s a while?’ Ziva asked, incredulous.

‘Nineteen seventy-one.’ Malcolm coughed. ‘All the details of minutes and meetings are on our website.’

‘How come nobody knows anything about you?’ another one of the teenagers asked. ‘You can’t have been doing much.’

‘The Parish Council is responsible for maintaining parks, footpaths, community buildings and bus shelters! Amongst other things,’ a heavy-set woman with stringy grey hair barked back. ‘We serve this village tirelessly. And if it’s been undercover for the past three decades, then you can hardly blame us! You lot might all think that no one in this village works together, or even wants to, but the FPC have been sneaking about like secret agents and improving things right under your noses the whole time!’

‘Awesome!’ The teenagers nodded. ‘Can anyone join?’

‘Can we please get back to the matter in hand!’ Alice called. ‘As Malcolm said, the Parish Council has a website, which I’m sure is easy enough to find if you want more details. Now, Malcolm, what can you tell us about getting the bridge rebuilt?’

‘Right. Well…’ Malcolm then proceeded to take the audience on a meandering tour of local council policies and proceedings, with many a detour to examine various by-laws along the way, until eventually Alice, who by that point may have been the only person not lulled into a parish stupor, had to stop him.

‘Okay, so, bearing in mind that most of us have no knowledge, experience or interest in the intricacies of local government, would it be fair to say that the bridge is going to cost at least three million pounds?’

Malcolm nodded, opening his mouth to start talking again before Alice stepped in.

‘Thank you, we can save the details for another time.’

‘Well, that’s that, then, isn’t it?’ said Sylvia, whose nut allergy had kick-started the whole thing.

‘There’s a thousand-odd people in this village, if you add both sides together. If we all chip in, that’s three grand each!’ Ziva exclaimed.

‘And that includes every man, woman and child!’ Gavin, the Old Boat House landlord said. ‘How are those of us with kids meant to do it?’

‘Hang on,’ Becky said, moving towards the front. ‘No one agreed that we’d all be chipping in an equal amount. Times have been hard for a lot of us in recent years, and there are a lot more ways to raise money.’

‘Yeah, but even if it’s cake sales and raffles and that, it’s still got to come from us,’ Jase said.