him. Mr Bett’s pulse quickened, and when he saw the tall figure of the major get out of the car and walk round to let out the passenger, and the passenger was Prue, he boiled.
“What the hell do you think you are doing with my daughter!” Mr Betts’ voice was harsh, and carried loudly up the garden path. Prue was walking towards him, and the major had started to get back in his car.
“Dad!” said Prue. “For goodness sake! Go on back into the house and I’ll explain.”
But Mr Betts was not going to let the major off so lightly. He pushed past Prue, stalked through the garden gate and wrenched open the car door. “You’ll be hearing from me!” he yelled. “And you’d better have a pretty good explanation ready. Too late tonight,” he added, aware that several neighbouring curtains had been drawn back. “First thing in the morning,” he added, and slammed the door shut again, provoking a dun-coloured terrier on the back seat into a frenzy of barking. The major stared at him without expression, then engaged gear and drove off.
Prue was waiting for him in the hall. “Up to bed, young lady,” he said, “I’ll deal with you in the morning too. We don’t want to wake your mother.”
“We’ll deal with it now, if you don’t mind,” said Prue, face set and hands trembling. She went into the sitting room, waited for her father to follow her, and then shut the door quietly. “Now,” she said, “you’d better calm down and listen, before you make even more of a fool of yourself.”
“Don’t you speak to me like that!” her father blustered, but Prue motioned him into his chair and then sat down herself.
“Are you ready to listen?” she said politely. Her father said nothing, but covered his eyes with his hands. Prue sighed, and began to explain. It had been a shock when the major loomed out of the dark like that, and she had felt faint for a moment. He had apologized and persuaded her to go inside his house and sit down for a minute, until she regained her balance. “He was extremely kind and gentlemanly,” she said. “Made his dog shake hands with me and got me a glass of water. Talked to me until I felt better.”
“What conversation?” growled her father.
“He told me about his time in the army,” she answered.
“Huh!” Along with most of the village, Mr Betts had strong doubts about the major’s army career.
“Yes, and he’s been to lots of interesting places. He showed me photographs. Egypt, Africa, New Zealand…”
“Didn’t know there was a war in New Zealand,” said her father, beginning to recover his wits.
“That was his holiday, Dad. Do try not to be so suspicious. The major is a nice man, and I’ve often had conversations with him in the pub. Hazel likes him, too, and her dad is just as horrible about him as you are.”
“Glad to hear Dick Reading has some sense,” said her father.
“Oh, it’s useless!” said Prue. “The man was kind, looked after me until I was OK, and then insisted on bringing me home.”
“And kissed you?” said her father, playing his trump card.
“That?” said Prue. “That was just a peck on the cheek to cheer me up, because I knew I was in for a rocket from you!” She stood up. “Well, now you know, and I suggest an apology to the major might be a good idea tomorrow. I’m off to bed now, and I just hope this stupid row has not woken up Mum.”
Mr Betts sat for a long time staring at the dying embers of the fire. Everything that Prue said sounded true, but he knew better than anyone what good liars children could be. Oh, damn it all. He’d have to tell her mother, of course, and maybe together they could find a sensible way of dealing with it. His own mother used to say that teachers made rotten parents, and he often had occasion to remember her words of wisdom. Yes, he’d tell Prue’s mother in the morning, and she’d know what to do.
He remembered Prue’s remark about Dick Reading. Much as he disliked the man, and despised him for undoubted violence towards his wife, he might go round and have a chat. See if he knew anything more about the major…Major! – a likely story!
¦
Next morning, being Sunday, the village slept late. Mr Betts was, however, awake early, and tiptoed down to the kitchen to make tea. He walked back upstairs carrying a tray, and put it down heavily on the bedside table by his wife. He hoped this would wake her, and then he could tell her what had happened. She stirred, and he leaned over to kiss her awake. “Morning, dear,” he said, just as he always did.
She opened her eyes and looked at the clock. “But it’s Sunday…” she said, protesting.
“Lovely morning,” he said, pouring out tea into two cups.
Mrs Betts’ reaction to his account of last night’s events was not quite what he had hoped for. In fact, she smiled. “What a kind man,” she said gently, sipping her hot tea. “Lots of things are said about him in the village, but I’ve always found him most polite and helpful.”
“He kissed Prue!” said her husband sharply.
“Yes, dear, but you said it was to cheer her up, knowing you’d be in a lather by the time she got in.”
“Not my exact words,” he answered crossly. “The man should not touch young girls, even if there was no evil intent.”
“Evil intent!” said his wife. “For goodness sake, don’t exaggerate. You’ll make things far worse than they are. If they are bad at all, which I doubt. Anyway, I think the best thing to do is nothing. Prue is quite safe, the major will probably know you’ve calmed down, and there’ll be no harm done.”
Mr Betts thought it was not a good idea, under the circumstances, to tell his wife of his plan to see Dick Reading, but he had not given it up. Soon after breakfast – Prue still in bed and his wife reading the paper – he got his stick, put the lead on the dog, and set off, saying he was going to take advantage of the lovely morning. His luck was in, he thought, as he saw Reading in his front garden, tying back a rose that had come loose in the strong wind. High clouds scudded across a bright blue sky, and Mr Betts found it difficult not to feel cheerful. Perhaps he was making too much of a meal of it. Still, now he was here…
“Morning, Reading,” he said. “Quite a breeze this morning!”
Dick Reading objected to being called ‘Reading’ by the village schoolmaster, but answered politely enough. “Out for a walk?” he said, and walked to the gate, leaning on it to signal he was available for the exchange of a few words.
“How’s Hazel?” Mr Betts did not quite know how to begin, but this was a start.
“Awkward as ever,” said Dick Reading. “Don’t know where she gets it from. I reckon they pick up all that cheek from the pub. Your girl works there too, doesn’t she?”
Mr Betts could not believe his luck. “Yes, indeed,” he said. “They were both there last night, and Prue got brought back by the major, of all people. Don’t know that I quite approve of…” His voice tailed away invitingly, and Dick Reading obligingly took up the subject.
“Wouldn’t trust him an inch,” he said. “Nor would you, if you knew what I know.”
Prue’s father took a deep breath. “Perhaps you wouldn’t mind telling me?” he said tentatively. “Could be important,” he added.
Dick Reading was only too happy. “The man’s a fraud,” he said. “Friend of mine knew him, years ago, when he was plain John Smith. Never been near an army uniform, but at that time he was trying to get into the Territorials. Some whiff of scandal attached, my friend says, and he was chucked out. No, I wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him.” He heard a voice calling from the house and turned round. “Just coming,” he shouted, and turned back to Mr Betts. “I’ve never said nothing about this,” he said, “but I wouldn’t hesitate to teach him a lesson if necessary. Just keep your eyes open, Betts, that’s my advice.” He grinned as the schoolmaster stiffened, and then disappeared round the back of his house.
Mr Betts did not move. He glanced at the next-door house, but the major’s curtains were all drawn closed. Should he go in, tackle him as he’d intended? No, he decided to let it be this once, but should there be anything, anything at all in the future, then he would act. He continued on his way, pulling the dog away from an interesting sniff, and did not notice the major’s bedroom curtain twitch a fraction as he went.
? Terror on Tuesday ?
Seven
Between Long Farnden and Waltonby, off the road and through parkland said to have
