1
‘Of all the hare-brained ideas that I have let you lead me into, Stiffy, this has to be right up there in the top drawer,’ complained Reverend Harold Pinker.
‘You chose the model, and now you are choosing to blame me, Harold?’ retorted Stiffy, ‘I have been driving for more than two hours in this infernal machine and you put this on me?
‘We could have started in the morning,’ said Harold, ‘I should not have agreed to this afternoon misadventure.’
Harold Pinker was talking to his wife Stephanie Byng who was driving their newly acquired Mazzaro-Ashley motor car. The car had lived up to no one’s expectations despite its ornate look and seemed to spend more time in a repair shop than on the road. On this particular night, it looked to be losing its battle against the road, for good. It had already stopped once or twice and now it finally sputtered, convulsed, swerved into a hedge and died.
Stiffy gave a yelp of exasperation and threw both hands in the air before slamming her palms down on the steering wheel. Harold sighed. He looked at Stiffy. He loved her large blue eyes. He loved the generous curve of her lips. He loved the way she walked. He loved her impetuousness. On most days, he felt like a school boy looking at his crush. For years he had let her decide most things even when he felt strongly about the sensibility of those decisions. At this moment, he was chiding himself for not having been more prudent.
Harold and Stiffy were on their way back from Bexhill to Hockley-cum-Meston, their home in Gloucestershire. It was expected to be a long drive of several hours and despite initial reservations, Harold had agreed with Stiffy that beginning the drive early in the afternoon would mean a late-night arrival and the thrill of driving through the night. It was dark and due to two stoppages already, they had progressed not much further beyond Steyning. Now, on a country road, the car had stopped.
Stiffy caught him looking at her and said, ‘I am sorry, I should not have suggested this drive. Why are you staring, you already made your point.’
Harold said, ‘Sorry dearest, I was not trying to find fault, I was mostly just upset at myself for agreeing to this idea.’
‘Aah, now you are blaming me again,’ she said, looking genuinely upset.
‘Hey Stiffy, no no, not at all,’ said Harold and pulled her close.
A few moments later, Stiffy said, ‘It is a good thing you are so handsome and so strong. I would never let anyone say anything to me at all. I would set Bartholomew on them.’
Harold grinned. He replied, ‘Well, you can do that once we get home, though Bartholomew would probably just focus on the treats that I shall feed him. Right now, let me see if I can figure out where we are. This place looks completely desolate. I reckon though that we are not too far from Steyning.’
‘What shall we do?’
‘Walk I suppose. I think we can probably reach Steyning in an hour’s time on foot and then find a place to stay. Thankfully, we have a full water bottle.’
Stiffy put her arm through her husband’s. Harold put a protective arm around her. She liked that. She was not the kind to be scared of the dark. She just liked her husband to think so. And Harold did. He was wondering if the sounds of the night were scaring her – the insects having an orchestra, the strange rustling in the abundant foliage, the sound of an owl here and the croak of a toad there. The night had come alive with the cacophony of the nearby forest. The reverend and his wife began their walk.
2
Herbert Hammer looked at himself in the shaving mirror and winced. Somehow, he had put on even more weight in the last few days despite following the physician’s advice of moderate walking and moderation in drinking.
He wondered if it was ungodly to be shaving so late in the evening. He was inclined to eat extra meals or wash himself excessively when made extremely uncomfortable. This day had made him feel very uncomfortable. He would have to ask the curate about this shaving business later though he wondered about the frivolity of the question. The curate would not be upset with him. Herbert Hammer was known in the village of Steyning as a jovial and generous man. Almost every month, he donated to the local church in honour of his late wife.
He ran a small two floor establishment just outside of the village boundary near a largish lake. The shop offered both fresh catch in the morning as well as angling equipment for the few enthusiasts and campers who occasionally turned up. He lived on the first floor. A peaceful existence, most of the time, even though his actual business was something else. He was well known among the criminal element of a few counties as a reliable ‘drop man’. He would receive packages and boxes, hide them in the few panels and hidden cubicles that were scattered around his establishment and then hand them over as needed. Many of the customers that came to his shop for angling equipment had look out notices issued against them. That never worried him. He was a discreet man, he never asked any questions, he never displayed any curiosity. Though he could never boast about it, he took great pride in his lack of curiosity. It had been a most profitable trait.
Business had been good lately. However, the two men currently occupying the first floor of his establishment made him nervous. One of them was about six feet five inches. The other one hardly spoke. They seemed to be family, brother perhaps or cousins. It occasionally happened that he had to let someone hideout for a few hours. It was the one aspect of his work he disliked intensely. He had just prepared a few tuna sandwiches for them. The way they had looked at him had evoked the flight response but he had told himself that he was a professional and this was a normal day.
He had already secured their package in the compartment behind his wife’s portrait that hung upstairs. He hated the fact that those men could be sitting there looking at her picture. He had inherited the establishment from the good woman and even after death, her portrait was instrumental in his success. He muttered a quiet prayer and crossed himself.
Upstairs, Ottavio and Gary were talking. Ottavio had a need to express himself constantly. Gary usually did the listening.
‘Just suppose G, I knock the fatty downstairs out, lock him in the basement, we take his cash and his valuables and depart. What do you think of that G? Clever idea, eh? Have you seen his pasty face? I would love to hit him square in the nose G. There was this kid in my village, piggy we used to call him, once I took him near the stream and… oi, you listening G?’
‘How will the package be picked up, then?’
‘What’s that?’
‘The package. With the man gone, people find out, police come in, the package, how does it get picked up?’
‘Oh. Fair point there, G. Work is never fun, I tell you. It is never fun. I never had a woman’s company in weeks. You suppose, the village can give us a bit of fun, eh? G?
‘Shh, I hear something.’
‘Wut?’
Gary put a finger on his mouth. Ottavio understood.
3
Herbert Hammer said, ‘We are closed for the evening, come tomorrow please.’
Harold replied, ‘Let us in my good man, my wife and I have been walking for miles. Our car broke down. She is exhausted and we are thirsty. We won’t bother you. We just need some water and a few minutes of rest. Please.’
‘Go away now.’
‘I swear, we are not troublemakers Sir. I am the vicar at Hockley-cum-Meston over in Gloucestershire. My name is Harold Pinker. My wife Stephanie and I are in a spot of bother. Surely, you won’t refuse us at this hour.’
There was a pause.
‘You are a vicar?’
‘Yes.’
‘This is a bad time for me but I suppose, you can have some water and something to eat. Come in.’
Herbert Hammer opened the door. He continued speaking as Harold and Stiffy came in. ‘I am not well and I have taken my medication. I must sleep within the next half an hour. Please sit, refill your water. I will get you sandwiches. Then you must be on your way. I am sorry, I really am but I cannot do more than this.’
Harold and Stiffy sat down on the two chairs that he had offered. Herbert Hammer looked at them and a terrible feeling of dread came over him when he saw Stiffy Byng. She was a very attractive woman and he had two desperados on his first floor.
He told himself, ‘They would not be foolish enough to risk exposure by coming down. Besides, I warned them never to come down till it was their time for departure.’
He hurried off to get the sandwiches. He took the flask that Harold handed him to refill. These two should eat quickly, drink some water. He began speaking again.
‘There is an inn in the village. The Brave Knight. When the cattle fair, happens it runs full. Most of the other time, it is easy to find a room. Just a mile out. Run by Gladys and her husband John. You fine folk should just head over there soon. I don’t mean to be rude, just that I am unwell.’
Harold replied, ‘Sure, my good man. In a few minutes. Does anyone in the village own a motor car? They might know of a handyman who could solve the problem with ours’
‘Yes Sir, a retired Colonel lives in the village, a gentleman by the name of Evans. He owns a car. I doubt you will find much help tonight.’
‘We understand.’
Stiffy spoke. ‘This is a nice establishment; you have here, Mr…’
‘Hammer, Madam, Herbert Hammer. I sell fish in the morning and fishing rods and other items all day. Small shop, really. Thank you for the kind words, Madam.’
Stiffy continued, ‘These tuna sandwiches are delicious. Not bad Mr. Hammer, eating Tuna sandwiches when you are feeling unwell. You are just like Harold here, always munching away.’
‘Stiffy,’ began Harold, ‘come now.’
‘I am sorry, Mr Hammer, no offence meant’ said Stiffy. ‘I always have a healthy appetite myself.’
‘Haha, Madam, you can see from my figure that I do like the food. Hahaha. My dear wife, God bless her soul, used to say that I ought to eat in moderation but I seem to have failed her.’
‘I am sorry to hear of her passing, Mr Hammer,’ said Harold and Stiffy at the same time.
‘It has been a few years, I…’. Herbert Hammer could not complete the sentence. He froze at the sight of Ottavio who had just come downstairs. He heard a loud expletive uttered upstairs, then Gary ran down the stairs.
Hammer licked his lips and put Harold’s flask to his mouth and drank a sip of water. He realized what he had done and turned toward Harold apologising.
‘I am sorry Sir, most unbecoming of me…’
Harold was looking at Ottavio and Gary. His right hand had already shoved Stiffy behind him in one swift movement.
‘Don’t hide her good Sir,’ said Ottavio with a mock bow.
‘Ottavio, come back, we need to go upstairs and sleep,’ said Gary grabbing Ottavio’s hand. ‘We have to pack up our tent tomorrow. It is late.’
‘Who are these men?’ asked Harold.
Herbert Hammer stammered, ‘Ca…campers, Vicar. Sir. They had some trouble with their equipment and had run out of supplies. I told them they could sleep upstairs. They will be presently retiring.’ He turned to Ottavio and Gary and motioned them to go up the stairs.
Ottavio shouted, ‘Shut up, fat man. Vicar, eh? You a Vicar? What are you doing with that piece of goods, right there? Some man of God, G! You see, don’t you G. This is a man of God with a pin up girl by his side. Reminds me of another man of God, I knew G.’
Harold looked to be in shock for a few seconds. Then he said calmly, ‘I am going to make you regret every word you just said.’
Stiffy grabbed Harold’s hand and said, ‘Harold, let us just leave, let us just leave. Come on. Come on.’
Gary said, ‘I am sorry folks, he is drunk. He is drunk. Let’s go upstairs, you fool.’
Herbert Hammer shouted nervously, ‘Go up, you are not in your senses. Clear out your tent tomorrow. Never come back. You are embarrassing me.’
Ottavio suddenly turned towards him. He hit the shopkeeper on the nose. Herbert slumped. Ottavio turned to Gary.
‘I want that woman. I haven’t seen a woman in weeks. You with me G?’
‘You idiot, I have been covering for you all my life. You drag me into this now?’
Harold looked at Gary. Gary knew the look of a desperate man. This was already ugly and it was going to get worse.
There was a sharp knock on the door. Then another loud knock. And another. Stiffy immediately ran to open it.
4
A man came through the door. He was tall and slender. With him was another man, old and frail looking but his clothes indicated that he was wealthy.
Stiffy and Harold noticed the tall and slender man. Was it a trick of the eyes? Why was light reflecting off him so strangely? Lights appeared to be reflecting curiously from the long overcoat he was wearing and the man seemed to be surrounded by a miasma of colours. His face was partially hidden by his hat.
The man spoke.
‘Thank you, madam, for letting us in. It has begun to drizzle. I was afraid Mr. Satterthwaite and I would be quite drenched you see. At his age, he might quickly catch a fever. So, I thank you again.’
He paused and looked around. Gary and Ottavio were staring at him.
‘A Christmas tree,’ muttered Gary.
Ottavio turned and looked at him and said ‘Wut in the bloody hell are you saying G? Did I hear you right?’
Gary said, ‘What?’
Harold had turned to the new arrivals.
‘Who are you? Let me warn you that these two are criminals and we were being threatened by them. The tall one has hurt Mr. Hammer, the proprietor and he is lying unconscious on the floor.’
Ottavio moved towards Harold with a growl.
Harold Pinker, champion rugby player at Magdalen and the best boxer in that college’s history moved his head slightly to avoid the incoming punch. He then hit a left jab, a right cross and then followed up with a left hook. Ottavio had never been hit so hard in his life. Harold then followed up with hits in Ottavio’s stomach. The man collapsed like a felled oak.
He turned towards Gary. Herbert Hammer was holding up a pistol at Gary’s head.
‘Go away, go away,’ he mumbled. Gary took off. He pushed Mr. Satterthwaite toward the slender man and ran out into the rain. Fortunately for Mr. Satterthwaite, the slender man caught him and helped him to a chair. He then turned to Stiffy and slid her gently into another chair.
‘Got any rope?’ said Harold.
‘Yes,’ replied Mr. Hammer. ‘I have shed, where this brute can be locked in till the constabulary come.’
‘Let me help you,’ said Harold.
Sometime later, the slender man spoke again.
‘Mr. Satterthwaite and I were on our way to meet Colonel Evans at Steyning. Mr. Satterthwaite’s car, this Mazzaro-Ashley, he has purchased recently has been giving him plenty of trouble. Fortunately, it broke down not too far from here. Our destination is nearby. Since the rain has cleared off, if Mr. Hammer can help us with an umbrella, we will walk to the village. We will inform Colonel Evans of the terrible situation here. We will come back with the constable. I would suggest that the lady come with us. This is no place for her. Would that be all right with you, vicar?’
‘Harold, I am Harold Pinker. Yes, absolutely. I shall stay here and help Mr. Hammer in case Gary returns. Stiffy, please do go with Mr. Satterthwaite and Mr…’
‘Quin. Harley Quin.’
Mr. Quin now turned to Mr. Herbert Hammer.
‘Do you have a working telephone?’
‘I am afraid not, Mr…’
‘Mr. Quin, Sir, I have no telephone, I am sorry.’
‘A modern device, most convenient and also noisy.’
‘Sir?’
‘Could you assist with umbrellas? You seem to have some for sale.’
‘Yes indeed.’
The next morning, Steyning was abuzz with excitement. Constable Oates had arrested a robber named Ottavio in possession of a firearm and some of the late Mrs. Hammer’s jewellery. Voices were loud. If Mr. Hammer, a respectable widower was not safe, was rural England safe anymore?
Colonel Evans had been most delighted to meet his old friend Mr. Satterthwaite. He had been a most hospitable host as well and it was in his old Morris Cowley that he and Mr. Satterthwaite dropped off Reverend Harold Pinker and his wife Stephanie at the railway station after lunch. It was a pity that their Mazzaro-Ashley would have to be towed away for repairs at Eastbourne.
On the way to the railway station, a sleepy Stiffy said, ‘Colonel Evans, Mr. Satterthwaite, we never got to say goodbye to Mr. Quin. Harold and I wanted to thank him for everything. He was a godsend yesterday evening. Harold said he left before breakfast.’
‘A most unusual friend of yours Satterthwaite,’ remarked Colonel Evans.
‘He comes and he goes,’ said Mr. Satterthwaite, cryptically.
Stiffy looked at Harold who seemed to be staring into the distance.
THE END.
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