susceptible to deafness, arthritis, baldness, sciatica, haemorrhoids,
incontinence, impotence, cataracts, dementia, and all the rest. And perhaps
(for all the landlord knew) the two old codgers suffered from every single
one of them except quite certainly the first.
Biffen lowered his voice: 'Did you get to the crematorium?'
'No. Family, wasn't it? I wasn't exactly a friend of the family.'
'I thought you builders and plumbers were friends of every- body, especially
a strapping young fellow like you?'
'Young?'
But the landlord had a point. John Barron, tall and well built, with dark
close-cropped hair and clean-cut features, certainly looked younger than his
forty-one years; and what
appeared a genuinely open smile appealed to all the local ladies except his
wife, who had been known occasionally to feel jealous.
'What exactly are you doing for Debbie?'
'In the back passage, off the kitchen you know, the old coal-shed and the old
loo. Knocking 'em into one so she can get her washing machine in re-tiling
the floor re-plastering the walls new electrical sockets usual sort of thing.'
'Just at weekends?'
'Yeah, well. . .'
'Bit o' moonlighdng? Cash payment?'
For a second or two Barren's mouth tightened distastefully, but he made no
direct reply.
'I was hoping to finish it off before Harry was out.'
'Poor sod! Bet he was looking forward .. . you know. Attractive woman,
our Debbie!'
'Yeah.' The builder took a deep draught of his bitter.
'Did you goto the crem?'
'No. Like you said . . .'
'Have you seen her at all since . . . ?'
'No. Like you said . . .'
'The police've been round, they tell me.'
'Yeah. Came in- when was it? -- Tuesday.'
'What'd they want?'
Doubtless the builder would have been enlightened immedi- lately had not two
further customers entered at that point: an elderly, back-packing, stoutly
booted couple.
'Two glasses of orange juice, please!'
'Coming up, sir.'
'Beautiful little village you've got here. So quiet. So peaceful.
'Far from the madding crowd' - you'll know the quotation? '
The landlord nodded unconvincingly as he passed over the drinks.
'And you serve meals as well!'
The couple walked over to the corner furthest from the fruit machine: she
consulting the hostelry's menu; he plotting a possible P. M. itinerary from
Family Walks in the Cotswolds.
'Quiet and peaceful!' mumbled the landlord, as one of the elders stepped
forward with two empty straight glasses. Words were clearly superfluous.
'You were saying?' resumed the builder.
'Saying what?'
'About the police?'
'Ah, yes. That sergeant came in and asked some of us about Harry and Debbie.'
'But you hadn't seen either of them?'
'Right! But, I would've done, see would've seen her, anyway, if it hadn't
been for them for the police. That Sat'day night I thought I'd just nip over
and take 'em a bottle o' Shampers, like give 'em both a bit of a celebration.
Well, I'd just parked the car and I was just walking along when I saw this
police car driving slowly round and the fellow inside making notes of Reg
numbers by the look of it.'
'What'd you say?'
'Didn't say nothing, did I? Just waited till the coast was clear, then
buggered off back here smartish. They'd seen the num- her , though. So not
much point in . . .'
'Good story!'
'Bloody (rug story, mate!'
The builder finished his pint.
'Beer's in good nick. Biff.'
'Always in good nick!'
('Is it fuck!' came sotto voce from the region of the cribbage board )
'Summar else too,' continued the landlord as he pulled the builder a second
pint.
'The police tell me there was a phone call for Debbie that Sat'day night from
the pay-phone here.'
'Could have been anybody.'
'Yeah.'
'Any ideas?'
'Sat'day nights? Come off it! Full up to the rafters, ain't we?'
The elderly lady now came to the bar and ordered gammon- and- pineapple with
chips for two; and during this transaction the builder turned round and, with
a fascination that is universal, watched the unequal struggle at the fruit
machine.
From outside came the jingle of an ice-cream van as happy a noise as any to
the youngsters of Lower Swinstead that sunny lunchtime; almost as happy a
noise as that clunk-clunk-clunk of coins falling into the winnings-tray of a
fruit machine.
Conversation at the bar was temporarily suspended, since several
