Unravelled by Kirsten Lee Page A

Mr Wall Street lifts his eyebrow when I mention good lighting and I elaborate. “I just got off the phone with one of the best lighting companies in this field. They’ve been very gracious concerning the lateness of our booking and our budget restraints and I’ve worked with them before, so I know the quality of their work.” I did not mention that the sleazy owner of this very sought-after company managed to get a date out of me, which I am dreading like the next appointment with my gynaecologist. I draw Mr Wall Street’s attention back to the plan and point to a barn on the south east side of the complex.
    “This will be our main event’s hall. A stage will be erected inside and it will host our prime performances. It is a large space and ought to seat eight hundred people comfortably. These are the other two barns which will be used as concert halls.” I point to a building at the northern end and one on the far eastern side. “They are situated far enough from the other to not interfere with sound and people moving around. The smaller one will be used for the opening ceremony for which we’ll create a ballroom setting for the opening night.”
    “And all this is still within budget?”
    “Oh yes. This is where all these people have been so helpful with. The tables and chairs for the opening ball will be provided by the hotel just outside of town. Andy,” I nod at the usually quiet young man beside Ray’s desk, “is from accounting and his mother is the manager of the hotel. They will also provide us with all the crockery and catering equipment – all at the fraction of the normal rates. Earl’s pub will provide us with alcohol which he will sponsor most of.” Earl Foxx, my teddy-bear ally has also proved to be quite a resource. One of the four businesses he owns is a pub and he’s been extremely helpful.
    The three of us spend another hour bringing Mr Wall Street up to date. I outline the plan for transportation which became a necessity when we realised that parking space will be limited on the grounds and most people would prefer to enjoy the beer garden and wine testing stalls without having to worry about the drive back into town. Andy seems to be quite well connected in town. When we discovered our transportation dilemma, he told us that his aunt is the head of the local bus company, and with his help we managed to come to an agreement with them.
    Andy is the star in the accounting department with a head for numbers, but not for social skills. However, when he heard of our little logistical problem he came up with this very timely suggestion and actually spoke to me about it. It is very clear that he adores his aunt, but when I spoke to her over the phone she sounded more like a military commander than Auntie Maude, the head of the bus company. Her voice softened perceptibly every time she talked about Andy and I knew the adoration went both ways. He speaks for the first time during the meeting and as usual I have to listen carefully to understand his mumblings. No one ever taught this man to speak up.
    “Auntie Maude has organised two busses that will travel from the centre of town to the farm every half an hour.” I can see that Andy is not going to offer any more information and Mr Wall Street looks at me expectantly.
    “The bus service will run from eight in the morning still two in the morning. That’s usually when the music shows end and people will need lifts. After that people will have to walk.” Mr Wall Street nods and I continue to the next point, “It seems like accommodation won’t be a serious problem. Earl has put up a sign in his pub and a lot of residents have responded by opening their homes. The idea is for the residents to also profit from this event. They’ll be renting out rooms for a regulated fee and a lot of people have shown an interest in this. The problem comes when we need to accommodate all the vehicles on the farm. It will be easier for everyone, including the