Brian Jacques - [Flying Dutchman 01] - Castaways of the Flying Dutchman

Amy nodded admiringly. “Here she comes, good old Winnie. Oh, Ben. I wish there were more folk in Chapelvale like her. She won’t give up without a fight!”

The blue-eyed lad licked the last of his ice cream from the spoon. “Who knows, maybe there are, once they get stirred up enough to do something about their problems.”

Mrs. Winn’s black-button boots clicked sharply on the floor as she marched into Evans Tea Shoppe. Her cheeks were quite pink and she was obviously irate. She rapped twice on the counter. “A pot of Ceylon tea and a hot buttered scone, if you please, Blodwen!”

Blodwen gave her a cheery nod. “Indeed to goodness, Winnie Winn, there’s bothered you look. Sit you down, dearie, I’ll bring them right to you!”

Amy moved swiftly to make room as Mrs. Winn came to sit at the table. She blew out a long breath, took a small mirror from her bag, and began primping the hair that wisped out either side of her navy blue straw boater hat. Her order arrived swiftly; she poured a cup of tea, took three good sips, and tried to compose herself. Then she spoke.

“Well! The very nerve of that Smithers and that young snippet with the dreadful London accent!”

Ben felt like smiling at her indignation, but he put on a serious face. “Did they upset you, Miz Winn?”

She drew herself up and took another sip of tea. “Upset me? Certainly not! I wouldn’t lower my standards and allow myself to be upset by the likes of them. Do you know, they made me a cash offer for my home and the almshouse? A piffling sum! When they saw I was not impressed, they doubled the offer. Hmph! I told them they could quadruple their paltry money, it still wouldn’t budge me an inch!

“Then Smithers said he had taken legal advice, he said that if I still refused their offer after his scheme was under way, he could have me forcibly put out of my home and he could take possession of the almshouse without further permission!”

Blodwen Evans had been lingering nearby, eavesdropping, as she usually did on any good village gossip. She moved in to collect the empty ice cream dishes. “And what did Mackay have to say about that, Winnie?”

The old lady seemed to deflate, her voice dropped to a murmur. “He said Smithers and his friends had the law on their side. That unless I can prove valid ownership and proper legal documents I haven’t a leg to stand on.”

Blodwen Evans gestured with a thumb to where her husband was at work in the back of the shop. “Aye, Smithers made my Dai a miserable offer as well, but what can we do, we ain’t got the money to fight him. My Dai says we’ll prob’ly have to take the offer for the teashop an’ move back to Wales. Still, that may not be. I’ve talked to a lot of folk. There’s Pettigrew the newsagent, Riley the ironmonger, Mrs. White from the sweetshop, and Mr. Stansfield the butcher. They say it can’t happen, you know. Look you, even Smithers can’t demolish a whole village just for some old limestone!”

Ben interrupted her. “He can, Mrs. Evans, and he will, unless something is done to stop him.”

Any further conversation was cut short by loud banging on the wall from the alley outside. A row of willow-pattern plates standing on edge upon a shelf began to tremble and clatter under the pounding vibration from the outside of the wall. Mr. Dai Evans came running out into the shop, wiping flour from his hands and untying his baking apron.

As his wife hurried to steady the plates, she called to him. “It’s that young Smithers an’ his gang again, Dai!”

He dashed outside. Amy was about to rise when Ben stopped her. “Wait a moment, let’s listen.”

From outside Dai Evans could be heard shouting. “I know it’s you, Wilf Smithers, no use leanin’ against that wall, lookin’ as if butter wouldn’t melt in your mouth. Go on, be off with the lot of you!”

Wilf Smithers’s voice sounded out impudently. “It wasn’t us! We’ve got as much right to lean against this wall as anyone. Why blame us?”

Mr. Evans’s voice shook with temper. “I know it was you lot. If you’re not gone from here in two ticks, I’ll call the constable!” Dai walked back into the shop, his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, shaking his head and muttering. “I tell you, Blodwen. They’ll have us out of here one way or the other. I’ll be glad to get back to Wales, look you!”

Blodwen set the last plate straight and was just moving back to the counter when the wall shook in time with the chanting of the Grange Gang outside.

“Dai diddly eye dai . . . Dai Dai!”

She had to hurry to get back to her plates. Dai Evans grabbed a metal hooked pole he kept for pulling down the shade blinds. “Right, that’s it, boyo, I’ve ’ad enough!”

Ben was on his feet, with Ned beside him. He stood in front of Dai, his voice calm. “You’ll end up in trouble yourself if you go ’round breaking heads with that thing, Mr. Evans. Leave this to me.”

Dai stared at the lad’s steady blue eyes, unsure of what to do, until Mrs. Winn stood up. “Do as he says, Mr. Evans, you can trust the boy.”

As Ben walked from the Tea Shoppe, Dai Evans stood to one side, avoiding Ned, whose hackles had risen. The big, black Labrador was growling, low and ominous.

There was a moment’s silence, followed by screams, yells, and barking, then the pounding of feet. Ben strolled back into the shop and sat down. He winked at Blodwen Evans. “More ice cream, please, marm, and a pot of fresh tea for Miz Winn. My turn to pay for this one, pals.”

Five minutes later the dog returned and flopped down beneath the table, passing Ben a thought. “I chased ’em up as far as the station, where they ran into the waiting room. Stationmaster didn’t like it much, he was chasing them out as I left. Wilf tried arguing with him, said he’d tell his dad that the stationmaster was driving them out into the teeth of a wild dog. Stationmaster didn’t seem bothered, said he didn’t care if there was a pack of wolves outside, they weren’t allowed on railway property without a valid ticket for a train journey. Told them to go and play their silly games elsewhere. Any ice cream left?”

Ned was the hero of the hour. Dai and Blodwen Evans refused to take any money for tea or ice cream. Dai knelt by the table, feeding the Labrador a plateful of vanilla ice cream with fresh milk poured over it. Ned lapped away happily as Dai ruffled his ears.

“There’s a good dog, you are, wish I ’ad one like you, boyo. How did you get him to do it, Ben?”

It was Amy who answered for Ben. “It was nothing really, Mr. Evans, it’s just that Ned can’t stand noise or bad manners.”

Ben grinned at her over his plate of ice cream. “Well said, Amy, you’re getting to know Ned rather well!”

18

MAUD BOWE SAT PRIMLY AT THE Smitherses’ table with Obadiah and his wife, Clarissa. They waited in silence as the maid served a gammon ham salad. Obadiah poured himself a glass of claret, ignoring his wife and Maud, who preferred barley cordial in the afternoon. When the maid had retired, shutting the door behind her, Maud continued her one-sided argument. Mr. Smithers dismissed her every point, overriding everything she said. Though in the light of what had taken place with Mrs. Winn, it was Maud who was winning the debate.

She tapped the spotless white damask tablecloth with a dainty finger. “As I’ve said, sir, this is going to cost us quite a bit!”

Smithers took a large swig of wine and stifled a belch. “Nonsense, m’girl, everything’s well in order, take it from me.”

Mrs. Smithers gazed at her salad, slightly shocked that a young girl would argue with her husband, a thing she never dared do. But Maud persisted. “Everything may well be in order with the rest of the villagers, sir. But Mrs. Winn is the one who is digging her heels in, she’s going to be trouble. If she refuses our offer, we’ll have to wait seven clear days just for a possession warrant. That’s what my father says, and he knows the law, believe me!”