‘I wasn’t going as far as that this evening,’ said Fenella. ‘But, anyway, why shouldn’t I?’
‘High jinks,’ said the man, ‘of a kind you wouldn’t like and which, feeling about you as I do – I spotted you when I was having a snack and a drink in the saloon bar of the pub at lunch-time—’
‘Look,’ said Fenella, interrupting him, ‘if this is part of the idiotic Mayering, of which I’ve been hearing every second minute since, very foolishly, I decided to break my journey here, I’m simply neither interested nor amused. And if it’s an attempt at a pick-up, the same attitude applies. So now will you please let me go?’
‘Foolishly decided to break your journey? Oh, no, not foolishly,’ said the man. ‘If it isn’t an embarassing question, though, why exactly did you?’ He let go of her sleeve. This, and his tone of voice, relieved Fenella’s immediate anxiety that he really did intend to molest her in the tradition (apparently) of the ‘idiotic Mayering’ to which she had referred, and she contrived to lighten her voice.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘It seemed a good thought at the time, but, of course, I had no idea, when I stopped for a snack lunch.…’
‘Chicken salad and a glass of sherry….’
‘…. that my car was going to break down. I’m trying to kill time until it’s put right, but it’s all extremely exasperating and annoying.’
‘What went wrong with the car?’
‘That,’ said Fenella, perplexed (and also surprised at herself for confiding her troubles to a complete stranger), ‘is just what I’d like to know. It was perfectly all right – recently serviced and going perfectly well – until I tried, after lunch, to get it to start, and then it just simply wouldn’t.’
‘Really? Well, bad luck for you, but not for me.’
‘Please! None of that!’ said Fenella, feeling agitated again, and angry with herself for being frightened.
‘I beg pardon. All the same, you know, I’m a very superstitious man. What’s more, I believe these things are meant. There’s a purpose behind them. A divine purpose? – well, that depends on how you’ve been brought up to look upon these things. Perhaps your car was acting like thingamy’s horse – or was it donkey? – or a faithful hound or something. You know – it probably spotted an angel or a precipice or some frightful accident looming – and saved you in spite of yourself. Had you thought of that?’
‘Oh, please, don’t be idiotic. I’m not in the mood for nonsense,’ said Fenella. ‘And now I’d like to continue my walk – alone.’
‘Well, the goblins’ll get you if you don’t watch out! Much better let me come with you. It’s Mayering Eve, you know.’
‘Oh, for goodness’ sake!’
‘Well, go back to the inn, then. No, really, I mean it. Be good, and do as you’re asked, for once.’
‘Kindly mind your own business, and let me mind mine.’
‘That’s all very well, but I know this village and you don’t.’
‘As though that makes any difference! Anyway, I came out for a short stroll, and that’s what I’m going to have. Goodnight!’ said Fenella shortly.
‘Oh, well,’ he said, ‘when lovely woman stoops to folly! I suppose I’ve already done enough (in any civilised community) to get myself arrested for molesting you, but this place, on this particular night, isn’t civilised. I don’t mean the local lads and lasses. May-Day and the night before have been their laisser-faire from time immemorial, although I wouldn’t want you to suffer any annoyance worse than that which I’ve just offered you. But other things go on, and I heard a rumour that there’s likely to be a shortage of osteological specimens in the near future. I’d hate to see you among the otamys in Surgeons’ Hall.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about! Please go back to the pub and finish your pint, or whatever it was. You talk as though the village goes in for Babylonian orgies, but I’m a city girl and don’t fall for those sort of idiotic suggestions, so please take yourself off.’
‘The difference is that the Babylonians were dissolute, and probably knew they were. The villagers do everything in the name of righteousness, and that can be very dangerous,’ said the young man, re-establishing his hold. ‘They happen to be pagans suckled in a creed outworn, that’s the trouble!’
‘For an educated person, you are not exactly behaving like a gentleman,’ said Fenella furiously. ‘Will you please let go of me!’
‘With – I won’t say pleasure – with complete acquiescence, if you’ll allow me to escort you as far as you decide to go, and then take you back to the pub. Apart from anything else – and what I said just now about the village is perfectly true on this particular night – I feel I could bear for us to become better acquainted.’
‘Well, I don’t agree with you, so now will you leave me alone!’
‘Very well. But there is nothing to prevent me from following you to see that you come to no harm.’
‘I don’t need your escort, thank you, either beside me or walking behind me. Look….’ her tone changed…. ‘please do go away. You may mean well, but your behaviour strikes me as being not so very different from that of the villagers you were just now talking about.’
The man freed her, but kept step with her as she walked (at a brisk pace which she had not planned to employ) along the road which led to the hill.
‘I ought to tell you,’ said he conversationally, ‘that really I am a respectable semi-professional man and all that, and definitely not lupine, I assure you. Please let me tag along. I’d feel very much happier if you would. Of course, if you’ve any real objection to my presence, I
