Village Fortunes (Turnham Malpas 17)

by Shaw, Rebecca

  But soon a curious incident took place which lead Zack further down the path of finding out who’d stolen the lead.

  Marie needed another wardrobe for one of their B&B bedrooms. ‘I can’t ask people to pay to sleep in that bedroom any longer because the wardrobe is falling to bits.’ She’d said this several times over the summer, but Zack had put off doing anything about it. However, by chance she’d caught sight of an advert in the Culworth Gazette. Smart French style single wardrobe for sale. Good condition, coloured ivory. £25 Buyer takes away. The phone number was a Little Derehams one.

  ‘It sounds ideal, very stylish too, I should imagine. Better than that awful dark-brown thing of ours. Shall I ring up and we’ll go and have a look? What do you think? After all, we’re not obliged to buy it, are we?’

  With nothing better to do, Zack agreed; he liked the price tag of twenty-five pounds. So they rang up and found the address was the one that had been the old pub that had been bought and converted into a house.

  The lady with the wardrobe for sale was very well dressed, much more so than anyone Marie thought they would be dealing with. She took them upstairs to see the wardrobe, and on the landing they came across the man who purported to be her husband.

  Marie was delighted by the French wardrobe. It was ivory in colour, like it said in the advert, and it would brighten up that bedroom no end. It was in good condition too, stylish and, best of all, it didn’t need anything doing to it. ‘I’m having all new built-in wardrobes fitted and they’re coming Monday to start work so I want this out of the way as soon as possible.’ So they paid the money over and agreed that at the weekend they’d come with some transport and collect it.

  The husband, who smelled as though he hadn’t had a wash, let alone a shower, for days, volunteered to help get the wardrobe down the stairs and out of the door when they came.

  ‘Well,’ said Zack, ‘that would be very kind indeed. See you Saturday morning about eleven, will that be convenient?’ It was. So that was agreed.

  ‘Funny that,’ said Marie on the way home, who’d learned a lot about people since they’d started doing the B&B, ‘The house is beautiful, the furniture and all that, and so’s she; but he’s too scruffy for words. He just doesn’t fit in, does he, how he looks? He’s too well-spoken to be in such scruffy clothes. It’s almost as if he’s playing a part in a play. Looking unkempt on purpose, kind of. I mean they’ve got money somewhere, taking into consideration the house and the furniture and all that, and her. But you wouldn’t think so to look at him. There’s a reason, believe me.’

  Zack scoffed at her theory. ‘For heaven’s sake, Marie, you do get some daft ideas.’

  ‘It’s true. I’m pleased with the wardrobe though. I’m taking a hammer to our blinking wardrobe when I get home. It’s all it’s fit for. We’ll save the wood for Bonfire Night up at the big house. Sir Johnny says it’s definitely on.’

  Marie didn’t go with Zack to collect the wardrobe as she’d promised to do a turn helping at the Saturday coffee morning in the church hall. She couldn’t believe it when Zack wasn’t home at one o’clock when she got back. It was two-thirty before he finally appeared with the wardrobe, and he was drunk like he hadn’t been in years. So was Barry Jones who’d agreed to give him a hand seeing as Zack had no van, but the lady had generously given them the bedside table that matched the wardrobe, and so Marie really couldn’t complain. The old brown bedside table joined the smashed-up wardrobe on the pile waiting for Bonfire Night, and the B&B bedroom looked stunning.

  When Zack finally became coherent round about six o’clock, he explained what had happened. ‘The minute we walked in he offered us a drink. Barry thought he meant a cup of tea but he didn’t, he meant drink as in alcohol. You should have seen his cocktail cabinet, stuffed it was, stuffed with quality drink. We could have whatever we wanted and more. Barry said no he wouldn’t because he was driving, but Baz insisted.’

  ‘Baz?’

  ‘That’s her husband’s name. Baz. We got talking, a right talker he is. He’s had a very interesting life, he has: market trader like Del Boy on the telly. He’s dabbled in just about everything, and you won’t believe this, but he asked us if ever we wanted some extra money to let him know and he could make good use of us and Barry’s van. Just the right size, he said. Well, of course, Barry’s saving up for a big holiday for Pat and ’im next year, and he jumped at the chance. I wasn’t too sure, but Barry gave me a nudge and so I said, yes, OK. By the way, Pat doesn’t know yet about the holiday, it’s a big surprise for her, so don’t say a word.’

  ‘All right. All right. But what are you doing, and when? Barry’s not so free as you are, you know, he has a five-day week to put in.’

  ‘Evenings it’ll be, and weekends. I said not Sundays as I’m needed at the church, and Baz agreed. Not Sundays, he said. So it might not come off, but it could. Anything to eat tonight? I’m starving.’

  ‘So he didn’t say what it was?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Is he just as scruffy as when we saw him?’

  ‘Yes, he is. Now where’s my food? I’ve had no lunch, yer know.’

  Further than that Zack was not prepared to go. If he revealed to Marie that him and Barry with his van, helping Baz, were to be rewarded for a few hours’ work with more money than Zach earned in a month as verger, then she definitely would put a stop to it and he wasn’t having that. Because, let’s be honest, it must be something illegal to be paying that kind of money for a few hours’ labour. Somewhere right at the back of Zach’s mind he remembered a casual mention of scrap metal and lead, but he couldn’t quite remember if he was right, being drunk at the time. He should never have agreed to drinking that special whisky as he lost count after three; it went straight to his head. Nor could he remember giving Baz his phone number, but he must have done because one week to the day of collecting the wardrobe the phone rang halfway through the morning. Marie had three B&B guests and had just finished clearing up after their late breakfast when Zack told her he’d had a call from Baz.

  ‘When?’

  ‘When what?’

  ‘When does he want you?’

  ‘Ten o’clock.’ Zack neglected to mention he meant 10 p.m.

  ‘Oh. I wanted to go to the market this morning and the bus will have already gone.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘You’ll be late, does Barry know?’

  ‘Ten tonight.’ Zack girded himself for Marie’s response.

  Marie instantly knew it was something illegal. ‘Tonight? Oh, Zack. Please don’t go. I told you he was a wrong ’un. I knew it. Please, I’ll ring Pat and tell her, then you won’t have the van.’

  Zack sprang to life. ‘You won’t, you’ve not to. And for once in your life you do as I say.’

  ‘Well, I never have before, so I don’t see why I should start now.’

  ‘If I have to tie you to the bed before I go, I am going.’

  ‘Oh, Zack!’

  ‘I am. Not another word. You know nothing, and that’s the way it will stay. I’m not a complete fool, you know. Just leave it with me.’

  They spent a stormy Saturday, kind of speaking but not speaking all day, and Marie was glad when it was half-past nine and she heard Barry tap softly on the back door. That was significant in itself coming to the back door as everyone used the front door because that was the easiest, seeing the way round the house was built.

  Marie asked Barry, ‘Will you need a torch?’

  ‘Good idea.’

  Marie went back to watching TV, but she couldn’t settle and decided she’d read in bed for a bit. She dropped asleep about midnight with the light on and the book still in her hand, and never even heard Zack creep gently into bed about half-past two. If she’d been awake she’d have seen the big grin on his face, a weary grin but full of satisfaction. He smiled at the thought that Marie had been right about Baz; he was playing a part. Zack would have a great tale to tell the rector. Zack, exhausted, fell asleep in seconds.

  ‘Yo
u see, rector, it’s complicated to explain. It all began when Marie and me went to buy a secondhand wardrobe for one of our B and B bedrooms.’

  Peter could tell immediately this story was going to take a long time to tell so he settled himself on his study sofa and awaited enlightenment. By the time Zack was explaining about Baz and his need for new clothes and a very essential bath, Peter was intrigued.

  ‘They sat on the floor of the van in the back ’cos Barry’s van only has three seats and Baz and me and Barry were sitting in those. When we picked ’em up they had a huge collapsible ladder with ’em, and Baz gave them a hand to put it in the back of the van so they had to squeeze in the back with it, and there wasn’t much room for ’em. Baz talked to ’em as though they were bosom pals; but Baz had told Barry and me not to speak, so we didn’t join in.’

  ‘Did you know any of them? Were they from round here?’

  ‘I thought I knew one of them. I think he’s the chap who helps out sometimes in the petrol station on the by-pass, stacking shelves and that. But I could be wrong. Anyway we trundled on till we arrived in Compton Tester of all places. A more dead-alive place you are unlikely to find anywhere in the world. We pulled up, pitch black it was ’cos there was no moon, no street lighting like we haven’t got, and sat waiting. There wasn’t a leaf stirring, never mind any people; they’ve no pub, yer see. We sat and sat, not right outside the church like, more to one side but with the church in view. No one spoke ’cos Baz had said don’t. The bedroom lights started going out, one by one till all the light we had was the eyes of a white cat crossing the road, dead spit of our Kitty.

  ‘Then he said “Right!” and slipped out quiet as quiet, and stood in the road listening. We opened the van doors and took out Baz’s huge ladder. Barry helped him like, and the other two men got out and we all walked over to the church and believe it or believe it not they put the ladder up against the church wall and the two chaps we’d picked up started climbing up onto the roof, and then Baz he went up, but he told us to wait at the bottom of the ladder and watch for them coming back down with the lead. Well, I couldn’t believe it, there I was taking part in a theft. I’ve got it all wrong I thought.

  ‘Then I heard some heavy breathing like someone had been running and were getting their breath back so they could speak, and then suddenly there were two men standing beside Barry and me with a finger to their lips to warn us not to speak. By this time Barry and me was shaking, believe me, caught red-handed I thought, caught red-handed, I should have listened to Marie. We seemed to wait a long while but then Baz whispered from up on top “Right!” and we could see their shadows and they were holding something that I guessed, obviously, was a big length of lead roofing. It was then I realised that the two chaps who’d sneaked up on us were each holding a pair of handcuffs, and I still couldn’t work out what was happening.’

  ‘So what did happen?’ Peter asked, just as puzzled as Zack had been at the time.

  ‘The three of them started coming down the ladder slowly, ’cos it’s very heavy; they handed it to us and the two chaps who’d put their fingers to their lips to warn us to keep quiet, clapped the handcuffs on them as soon as their feet hit the ground. “Got yer!” Baz shouted, and followed on with that bit where they say, “I am arresting you . . .”

  ‘Sweat was pouring out of me, I was so het up. Barry, in the light of the torches the policemen had switched on, was white and shaking like a leaf, and so was I. The two men in handcuffs were put in a police car that was parked behind a derelict barn bottom end of the village, and on the way to the police station Baz explained.’

  Peter waited for the explanation but Zack didn’t continue. ‘Yes? What then?’

  ‘Ah, well, it was Baz was the undercover policeman, yer see. Barry’s van was just right for him, no advertising slogans on it, just a plain dark-red van that nobody would take no notice of. All this because of my Marie seeing the advert about the wardrobe. We’re going to be called as witnesses at the trial.’

  Peter was delighted. ‘So they have confessed to stealing our lead?’

  ‘Yes, and so would you have done if you’d been held in an arm lock like they were, by that Baz. He’s tough and not half; he must work out every day, muscles like steel he must have. They were in agony when they confessed. One of ’em tried to escape when we got to the police station, but he’d only gone about five steps when Baz, quick as lightning, grabbed him and held him in an arm lock, and the chap was sweating with the pain and he confessed all. I began to feel sorry for the chap, honestly I did, till I thought about our lead being stolen, and then I decided it was all he deserved.’

  ‘Well, at least that’s been sorted out. You were very brave, Zack, to do what you did, very brave indeed, especially when you thought Baz was the real thief.’

  Zack began to laugh. ‘He, Baz that is, put Barry’s van registration number on the police scanning thing to check ownership before he conscripted us and found Barry’d forgotten to renew his road fund licence on his van, three months out of date it was. “See to it Barry,” he said. “I don’t want attention being drawn to your van when I’ve used it for police surveillance.” So, rector, what do you think?’

  Peter stood up. ‘I am so proud of you, Zack. So proud. And such a string of coincidences. You see, Marie was right, wasn’t she? Sometimes we men need to take notice of a woman’s intuition.’

  ‘Except she thought he was the thief, not the police. I did too. Never thought about these undercover police needing to be so real, if you get me, unkempt, mucky clothes. You’d never have thought he was police if you’d seen him; he looked as if he hadn’t two ha’penny to rub together, just like the men he arrested. Still he did the trick, didn’t he?’

  ‘You’ll have a good tale to tell in the pub!’

  ‘I will indeed.’ Zack paused for a moment as he made to leave. ‘Should I say anything though, me being an unofficial policeman like?’

  ‘Don’t mention where he lives, then they can’t identify Baz.’

  ‘Of course, yes, that’s important. I’ll remember that. I’ll be off then. Bye, rector.’

  It wasn’t often that Merc and Ford joined those who felt they owned the table with the ancient settle down one side, but that night they did. And by the time Zack arrived, with his mind primed for the telling of his adventures, accompanied by Marie for their usual Monday night indulgence, the others were already ensconced with a drink in front of them, listening to some story about a race meeting Merc and Ford had been to on Saturday and what an uproarious time they’d had, and Ford had won £157.50 betting on a horse that hadn’t a cat in hell’s chance of winning.

  ‘How did you know to put a bet on it when it was so hopeless?’ asked Dottie, who’d always done well out of taking Ford’s advice and was forever mystified by his good luck.

  ‘Something about the way she flirted herself all the way round the ring; as far as she was concerned no other filly in the race had a look in, and so I took a chance on her and won.’

  ‘I told him. I said, she won’t win, how can she, she’s come nowhere near winning all season.’

  Ford laughed. ‘But she did. The bookies were laughing all the way to the bank, believe me.’

  ‘And so were you, Ford. Brilliant.’ Dottie was completely absorbed by his story, and never noticed that Marie and Zack were adding chairs to the group so they could join in the fun. ‘Oh, sorry. Here, look, I’ll move up this way. OK now?’ Dottie shuffled her chair closer to Merc, so Marie and Zack managed to squeeze in.

  ‘I don’t understand why you always win, Ford,’ Dottie said.

  Ford laughed. ‘I don’t. Ask Merc, she knows.’

  ‘No, he doesn’t,’ said Merc tapping the table with a well-manicured fingernail. ‘He only tells you about winning, never about when he loses three race meetings on the trot.’

  ‘Tonight,’ said Ford, ‘I shall buy one round for all of us out of my winnings, OK? A celebratory drink on me for all of us round this table. Right!’<
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  ‘You’re more than generous, Ford, thanks,’ said Zack bursting to tell his adventures but not knowing how to make it sound like a casual episode and not the peak excitement of the year, which it was to him. Words of thanks for Ford’s generosity said by everyone at the table were followed by a silence, and so Zack chose to speak up. ‘I’ve solved the problem of who stole the lead from our church roof.’

  He took a long drink of his home brew to give time for his news to sink in.

  ‘You have? How?’ asked Merc.

  ‘You? How’ve you done that when the police are baffled as they say?’ added Sylvia, incredulous.

  ‘Go on then, tell us,’ Willie said eagerly, feeling he had a vested interest in Zack’s statement, seeing as he’d been the verger before him for more years than he cared to count. ‘Get on with it.’

  And so Zack related the events of Saturday night to a rapt audience. Within moments of beginning his story, other people in the bar had come to stand around the old table to listen in, and a burst of applause greeted the conclusion of Zack’s adventures.

  ‘The strange thing is while we were waiting a cat the spitting image of our Kitty stalked across the road from the direction of the church. Gave me a bit of a funny turn.’

  Marie startled, said, ‘No, I don’t believe you. You never told me.’

  ‘I forgot. But it did. Snow white except for that one black ear and a slightly longer tail than most cats have, just like our Kitty. I swear.’

  Someone with their feet firmly planted in real life said, ‘Get on. How can your cat have got from here to Compton Tester? It’s miles.’

  A woman from Penny Fawcett protested, ‘Not across the fields it isn’t. Over the by-pass and then across the fields it wouldn’t take a determined cat all that long. There’s not many cats all white with one black ear.’