The unopened envelope
P1.1 By half past nine, the village hall smelled of damp coats and orange peel. Leena stood beside a table of donated books, arranging the same three paperbacks into a straighter line. Inside her cardigan pocket, an envelope pressed against her wrist. She had written “For the hall roof” on it before breakfast. Now the words seemed rather grand for the few coins inside.
P1.2 Across the room, Mr Bell balanced a bucket beneath a dark patch in the ceiling. A drop struck its metal bottom with a sharp ping. He looked up, then shifted the bucket a little to the left. Beside him, a poster showed the hall as it had looked sixty years earlier: new windows, bright doors and a crowd waving at the photographer.
P1.3 “You can put your donation in the tin,” said her brother Arun. Leena nodded, but her hand stayed in her pocket. A woman near the entrance dropped in a folded note. Leena began rearranging the books again.
P1.4 Then a boy in a red hat came to the table. He counted out six copper coins, slowly, and pushed them towards the tin. One rolled beneath a chair. Before Leena could move, Mr Bell bent to retrieve it. “We need that one too,” he said, smiling. He thanked the boy as carefully as if he had handed over a treasure chest.
P1.5 Leena drew out her envelope. Its corner was soft now, creased where she had rubbed it. She placed it beside the tin and began to explain how little it held. Mr Bell shook his head. “A roof is made of lots of small tiles,” he said. “We aren't waiting for one enormous tile.”
P1.6 When the next drop rang out, Leena no longer heard an accusation. She picked up the smallest paperback and carried it to the display by the door. “This one's very funny,” she told a customer. Behind her, the tin gave a cheerful rattle.