Evening. A draughty hall. The crunch of digestives.
Maureen stifled a snigger, relieved it hadn’t been her messing up for once.
“Oh Christ” said Edna softly.
They stood and stared. The roughly stitched fabric church, below it ‘2016’ cut from kindly donated gardening trousers. And hovering above with a fine sprinkling of biscuit crumbs: ‘Faith, Hope and Chair’.
“Leave it and finish. Honestly, who looks at them?” The other two nodded tiredly.
It was hung, mistake and all in church the next day, mentioned briefly in the service on Sunday. And Sarah was right, no one ever did notice.