Three Thousand Pounds
(The village hall, on a rainy Tuesday. Alison pours the tea. A bucket sits under a hole in the roof.)
Alison: Right. The builder says fixing the roof will cost three thousand pounds.
Derek: Three thousand! Just for a roof?
Alison: For this roof. It’s a hundred years old, Derek. So how do we raise the money?
Derek: A cake sale. People love a cake sale.
Alison: Last year’s cake sale made two hundred and fifty pounds.
Derek: That’s not bad!
Alison: It isn’t. So we only need twelve of them.
Derek: Twelve cake sales? My wife would leave me.
Alison: What about a celebrity? We could write to someone famous and ask for support.
Derek: Who? The most famous person in this village grows very big carrots.
Alison: Okay, okay. What’s your idea?
Derek: A concert. My jazz band could play. Four local musicians, and we’d play for free.
Alison: How many people can we fit in here?
Derek: We’ve got a hundred chairs. Ten pounds a ticket?
Alison: That’s a thousand pounds. Not enough.
Derek: Then we play two nights.
Alison: Two thousand. We’re still a thousand short.
Derek: Fifteen pounds a ticket, then.
Alison: A hundred people, fifteen pounds, two nights… that’s exactly three thousand! But will people really pay fifteen pounds?
Derek: For the roof? Yes. And for my trumpet, of course.
Alison: Of course.
Derek: You know, in forty years, my band’s never played to a hundred people.
Alison: Well, now you will. Two nights in a row.