Crybbe aka Curfew

'No.' He shook his head. He didn't understand. He hadn't understood when it happened – either time – and he didn't understand now.

What am I missing? Suddenly he was in a mental frenzy Why did she have to say that? Why did she have to slap him across the face with the incomprehensible horror of Rose and Rachel? And was he missing something?

'Don't let yourself lose this one,' Jean said.

Fay?

Please… What can't I see?

'And when I get to the Tump,' he asked weakly. 'What am I supposed to do then?'

'You're looking for Boulton-Trow, aren't you?'

He stared at her, Arnold throbbing against his ankle.

'If Boulton-Trow has orchestrated all this, then he has to find somewhere, has he not, with his wee conductor's baton. He has to have a podium, from which… if you really want to end all this – you must dislodge him. I'm sorry, Joe, it's never easy. You know that really, don't you? You could indeed lend Jim Preece a supporting arm as he climbs the steps to the belfry, but are you going to be there again tomorrow night, and the night after?'

Powys stood up. His legs felt very weak. He was afraid. He gathered the trembling Arnold awkwardly into his arms, looked vaguely around. 'Where's the Canon?'

Jean saw him to the door. 'Don't worry about Alex. He's coming to grips with his past, too.' She gave his arm a sympathetic squeeze, it's the night for it.'

Col Croston was pleased and yet disappointed, too. It was going smoothly, Max Goff was making his points very cogently and had been impressing him as the strictly neutral chairman. And, no, he hadn't expected fireworks.

But wasn't this just a little bit too tame?

Hadn't once had to bang his gavel or call for silence. Just that spot of aggression towards the cameraman – minor pre-meeting nerves. And that single, reedy interruption during his introduction. All of this before he'd even called on Goff to address the meeting.

And now the fellow had been given a more than fair hearing.

'Right,' Col said. 'Well, I think I've put all my questions, so what about all of you? What's the general feeling? I think we at least owe it to Mr Goff for him to be able to walk away from here tonight with some idea of how the townsfolk of Crybbe are reacting to his ideas.'

Wasn't awfully surprised to get a lot of blank looks.

'Well, come on, don't be shy. This is a public meeting and you are, in fact, the public'

When he did get a response it came, unsurprisingly, from the wrong side of the room.

The large, middle-aged woman with the white hair was on her feet.

'Yes?' said Col. 'Mrs Ivory, isn't it? Go ahead.'

'Mr Chairman,' Mrs Ivory said sweetly, 'I'm sure we seem a pretty strange lot to the local people.'

She paused. If she was waiting to be contradicted, Fay thought, she'd be on her feet for the rest of the night.

'Well…' Mrs Ivory blushed. 'I suppose we all have adjustments to make, don't we. I know I got some very odd looks when I went into a sweetshop and said I preferred carob to chocolate, actually, and didn't mind paying the extra for a no dairy alternative.'

Good grief, Col thought, is this the best you can do?

'What I mean is, Mr Chairman, I suppose we have got what seem like some funny ideas, but, well, we're harmless, and don't mind people thinking I'm an eccentric, as long as they accept me as a harmless eccentric. That's the point I want to make. We don't want to take over or impose some weird new regime. We're not like the Jehovah's Witnesses – we won't be knocking on doors or handing out pamphlets saying, 'Come and join the New Age movement.' We're gentle people, and we're not going to intrude and… well, that's all I have to say really. Thank you.'

'Thank you, Mrs Ivory,' said Col. 'Well, there you are, I think that was very, er… a valuable point. So. What about some local reaction? Mr Mayor, you're down there on the floor of the meeting tonight, somewhat of a new experience for you, but what it does mean is you are entitled to speak your mind. Give us the benefit of your, er…'

He was going to make a little New Age sort of joke then about the Mayor's 'ancient wisdom', but decided perhaps not.

'… years of experience.'

He watched Jimmy Preece rising skeletally to his feet.

'Not expecting a sermon. Just a few words, Mr Mayor.'

'Well, I…' Jimmy Preece looked down at his boots, and then he said prosaically, 'On behalf of the town, I'd like to thank Mr Goff for coming along tonight and telling us about his plans. Very civil of 'im. I'm sure we'll all bear in mind what 'e's 'ad to say.'

And the Mayor sat down.

Col looked helplessly at Max Goff.

At the back of the room Fay Morrison looked at her watch, saw it was coming up to twenty minutes past nine and was very much relieved. Within a couple of minutes the meeting would be wound up and all these people would go their separate ways, they'd be off the line, away from what she was slowly and less credulously corning to think of as the death path.

'Thank you, Mr Mayor,' Goff said, rising to his feet. 'Thank you, Mr Chairman. But this is only the start of things…'

What?

Goff said, 'I'd like you to meet at this point some of the people you'll be seeing around town. For those who wanna know more about the heritage of the area, the distinguished author M. Powys will be, er, with us presently. But I'd like to acquaint you, first of all, with some of the very skilled practitioners who, for an introductory period, will be making their services available entirely free of charge to anyone in Crybbe who'd like to know more about alternative health. As Hilary said a few moments ago, there'll be no proselytizing, they'll simply be around if required, so first of all I'd like you to meet…'

He stopped. The chairman had put a hand on his arm.

'One moment, Mr Goff, I think we appear to have another question… Think I saw a hand going up at the back. Oh.'

Col had recognized Fay Morrison, the radio reporter. This was public meeting, not a media event; however, in the absence of any worthwhile response from the floor, he supposed it would be all right to let her have her say.

'Yes,' he said. 'Mrs Morrison.'

Goff's head spun round. 'This is not a press conference, Mr Chairman.'

'Yes, I'm aware of that, Mr Goff, but Mrs Morrison is a resident of Crybbe.'

'Yeah, sure, but…'

'And I am the chairman,' Col said less affably.

Goff shut up, but he wasn't happy.

Col was. This was more like it.

'Go ahead, Mrs Morrison.'

I'd like to know if Mr Goff is going to introduce us to his chief adviser, Mr Boulton-Trow.'

'I'm afraid,' Goff said coldly, 'that Mr Boulton-Trow is unable to be with us tonight.'

'Why not?'

Goff dropped his voice. 'Look, Mr Chair, I've had dealings with this woman before. She's a load of trouble. She makes a practice of stirring things up. She's been fired by the local radio station for inaccuracy, she's…'

'Mr Goff…' Thin steel in Col's voice. 'This is a public meeting, and I'm the chairman. Go ahead, Mrs Morrison, but I hope this is relevant. I don't want a slanging match.'