Chapter Twenty-Three

“When you lot have quite finished laughing…”

Lawrence left the sentence unfinished as none of his friends, let alone his girlfriend, was taking a bit of notice. Dumping the duffel bag he had upon his back onto the floor of Betty’s hall, he tramped past the five girls, all of whom were still gripping each other in fits of laughter and slumped down on the stairs.

Pulling off his shoes, he massaged his stockinged feet, rubbing their soles and glaring up at Mary, who upon seeing the sight of bare white thigh where his skirt had ridden up, had dissolved into more hysterical laughter. “Honestly, Jane, was it really necessary to wear the whole uniform? Couldn’t I have worn trousers instead?”

Wiping her eyes, Jane went over and laid a hand upon his shoulder, and though her shoulders were shaking as much as anyone’s, she told him, “I told you I had an idea to smuggle you in so no one would be able to tell it was you, didn’t I?”

For whatever reason, Lawrence let out a “Harrumph,” got to his feet, and without any regard for who was present, hitched up his skirt and unclipped his stockings before rolling them off and holding them up for Mary to take. “I don’t know why I had to wear stockings, though. Bloody things took an age to get on!”

Mary stretched out her stockings before rolling them up and tucking them away in her pocket, telling him, “If you had shaved legs, they wouldn’t have been a problem.”

No one noticed Ruth and Walter in the open doorway.

“Oh, I wish I had my camera on me!” Ruth wailed, her eyes wide at the sight before her, as Lawrence had hefted his duffel and was halfway up the stairs. Only problem was, his skirt was stuck on his thighs and the view everyone was getting was one only Mary seemed to not find amusing.

“You might want to tug your skirt down,” she shouted, but he ignored her and continued up the stairs. They heard the bathroom door open and close.

“Would…” Walter began, before he had to take a breath to compose himself, “would someone like to tell me exactly what I’ve just seen? I don’t know whether to hope I’m asleep because, if I am, this is some kind of weird nightmare, or to just tear my eyes out.”

“Shut the door and come into the kitchen,” Betty replied.

Once everyone had hung up their bags and hats, they all traipsed into the kitchen, where Betty was already filling up the kettle. From somewhere above them came the sounds of stomping feet and muttered curses.

Mary cast her eyes around at her gathered friends, most of whom looked like it wouldn’t take much for them to fall about laughing once more. “Please,” she asked, looking around, “when he comes back down, don’t make fun of him.”

Walter looked like all his birthdays had come at once. “Are you joking? I’ve never seen anything like it in my life! Plus,” he added as Mary opened her mouth to protest, “if I know you lot right, then you spent every moment, since you first saw him in that get up until Ruth and I came in, ribbing him nonstop. Am I right?”

At least nobody had the nerve to deny this, with no one able to meet his eye. Walter sat back in his seat, a self-satisfied expression upon his face. Doris noticed this and punched him on the arm.

“Hey! Normally, I’d agree with you. However, I think we’ve already done enough damage, so please, please be kind. Remember, you still need to ask him a question.”

Walter opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. “Bugger, I’d forgot!”

“Forgot what?” the subject of the conversation asked from behind them. Now changed into a pair of gray trousers and green pullover with the collar of a white shirt sticking up, Lawrence pulled out the chair next to Mary and, planting a kiss upon her head, sat down.

Ruth and Mary both nudged Walter at the same time.

“All right!” he grumbled, rubbing each side of his ribs. “Mate,” Walter said, “the sweet Doris…”

“Sweet?” Betty interrupted, nearly missing the teapot when she began to pour the water out of the kettle. “You’re certain you’re talking about Doris?”

Doris shot Betty a venomous look. “Careful! I’m sure I can dig up another bridesmaid, if it comes down to it.”

“Drink your tea,” Betty told her friend, placing a cup before everyone and then adding the large teapot in the center of the table.

“As I was saying,” Walter tried once more, “Doris and I…”

“Hey!” his fiancée interrupted him. “Aren’t I sweet anymore?”

Showing infinite patience, Walter told her, “Of course you are, always. Anyway, if I can continue…Doris and I are going to get married on her birthday.”

Ruth reached up and ruffled Walter’s hair. “Which I still say is a very clever way of never forgetting either one.”

“And I haven’t decided if it’s the sweetest or cheekiest thing I’ve ever heard of,” Doris added, batting her eyelashes at Walter.

“So that gives us two weeks before the twenty-seventh to work with,” Walter valiantly ploughed on.

“Well, that’s very good to know,” Lawrence said, but what do you want to ask?”

“For cripes’ sake!” Walter muttered. “All I wanted to ask is, will you be my best man?”

Without hesitation, Lawrence got to his feet and held out a hand. “I’d be delighted. You look so excited you’re liable to go off on honeymoon without your bride.”

Walter got to his feet and accepted the handshake. “Obviously, you can wear a suit or a skirt. The choice is up to you.”

“Ha, bloody ha!” Lawrence replied, though he managed to keep a smile upon his face. “Thanks very much for the tea, Betty, but do you have any Guinness in?”

Doris pushed her seat back and stood up. “No, but give me a bit of time, and I’ll get some in from the Victory.” Finished, she made her way into the hall.

“Care for some company?” Walter asked over his shoulder.

“Always!” she replied, holding out her hand.

“Right, while you pair are getting in the drinks”—Lawrence clapped his hands together—“I’ll go and get my attic spyhole sorted out.”

“And Penny and I will get the stew on. Hurry back, you two!” Betty yelled as Doris and Walter shut the door behind them.

****

“Alone at last!” Doris whispered to Walter as she passed through the gate he graciously held open for her.

Walter scanned the riverbank before taking her arm as they began to walk along the now nearly pitch-black path.

“What’re you looking for?”

“Do you think Duck’s likely to attack us?” he asked nervously.

Doris let out a chuckle, shaking her head. “No, I doubt it. He’s usually asleep by now,” she said, feeling Walter relax a little at her words.

“Fair enough,” he replied, drawing her in a little closer, the two falling naturally into step. “Come on, it’s a chilly night, so the sooner we’re back, the better.”

Ten minutes later, carrying a wooden crate of the previously mentioned black liquid between them, they were comparing how their days had gone when they were brought to a sudden stop by what sounded like the crack of a stick being snapped. After looking at each other, they both shrugged their shoulders and carried on as before. They’d barely gone five yards before another crack broke the quiet, and this time, at virtually the same time, one of the bottles exploded.

“What the hell?” Doris yelled, as they both nearly dropped the case.

Another crack, and this time there could be no doubt. “Someone’s shooting at us!” Walter yelled.

“Never!” Doris shouted, pulling Walter and their cargo behind a tree.

Only just in time, as no sooner had they’d hunkered down than two more shots struck the branches above their heads, showering them in twigs and pieces of bark. Covering their heads, the two huddled together, endeavoring to make themselves as small as possible. Another shot rang out, this time churning up the ground a foot or so to the left of Doris’s outer foot.

“Bloody hell!” she quite rightly swore, tucking her foot farther under her body.

After this, the silence which followed seemed to stifle and surround them. Listening closely, neither could hear anything except the gurgle as the river flowed past.

When a minute had gone by and nothing further happened, Doris whispered, “I don’t suppose you’ve a gun on you?”

“If I did,” Walter replied, with a shake of his head, “I don’t think I’d give it to you.”

“Why not?” Doris exclaimed, snapping her head to frown at him. “I’ll bet I’m a better shot than you!”

Another shot punctuated their argument, and this time the bullet slammed into the tree trunk itself.

“Let’s have this argument later,” Doris suggested.

The next bullet clipped the cap off another bottle, the liquid beginning to squirt in the air, soaking the rest of the crate.

Before she could stop herself, Doris shouted at the top of her voice, “Will you stop wasting my Guinness!”

When no further shots followed after five minutes, each edged a head cautiously around a side of the tree before jerking back. Another minute later, they looked again, and when no further fire came their way, they nodded at each other and, grabbing the crate once more, scrambled to their feet and took off as fast as their legs could carry them to The Old Lockkeepers Cottage, barely stopping to open the gate. Not troubling with the blackout, they burst through the door and promptly slid to the floor.

“What the hell?” Penny exclaimed, from where she was holding the telephone. Replacing the instrument, she knelt beside the pair, her mouth open to berate them for their disheveled and mucky state. However, before she could open her mouth, she noticed both were breathing heavily, and their eyes were wide and staring. She turned her head to shout, “Betty! Jane! Everyone! Get here, now!”

To the accompaniment of thundering feet and many different questions, all of which she endeavored to ignore, Penny gently prised the fingers of both from the crate they still held, noting with a deep frown the smashed bottles. “Someone get me some tea towels,” she ordered. More gently, she took Doris’s chin in hand and turned her so she could look her in the eyes. “What happened? Clearly you didn’t break the bottles yourselves,” she added, hoping a little levity would calm her friend down. “Take a deep breath. You’re both safe.”

After following Penny’s advice, Doris said, “Someone tried to shoot us!”

Everyone, including Lawrence, who’d nearly fallen down the loft ladder in his haste to answer Penny’s call for help, drew in a sharp breath. Acting on instinct, Lawrence hurdled the pair, yanked open the door, and ran outside. Thirty seconds later, he was back in, shutting and locking the door behind him.

Mary immediately smacked him around the head. “That wasn’t very smart, was it!”

Lawrence opened his mouth, but Ruth beat him to it, fixing him with a glare. “No, it flaming wasn’t! What the hell did you think you were doing? Someone shot at this pair and you run outside, without knowing what’s out there? Have you got a bloody death wish?”

Lawrence joined Penny in helping Doris to her feet and into the lounge. Jane and Betty did the same for Walter, and both were placed before the fire. “Stay there,” Penny ordered. “I’ll be back in a moment.” Rushing into the kitchen, she came back with two mugs and a bottle of sherry. Pouring two generous measures, she pushed the glasses into Doris and Walter’s unprotesting hands.

“You believe me?” Doris asked, before taking a sip.

Penny sat down beside her friend and flung an arm around her shoulders. “Of course I do! You’re both mucky, there are smashed bottles—and I know you love your Guinness too much to allow that to happen by accident—and it’s not the kind of thing anyone would make up. So, if you can, what happened?”

Doris and Walter shared a look before Doris told their story. When she’d finished, all their friends could do was sit there and shake their heads before Lawrence announced, somewhat understatedly, though echoing what everyone else was thinking, “This ramps things up. He’s getting desperate.” He strode to stand before the window where everyone could see him. “I wasn’t expecting this. Doris, Walter, I can only say I’m sorry.” Both waved his apologies away. “I can’t guarantee he won’t try this again, but I doubt it. However, I want you all to not do what I just did when you go out. Be careful, and keep the front door locked for now. We won’t find anything tonight, but I’ll ring Terry and get him out here first thing tomorrow morning to see if he can find anything.”

“Do you think they’re watching us? Now?” Jane asked.

Lawrence shook his head. “All the same,” he addressed Ruth and Walter, “I suggest when you go home tonight, you go out the back way and take Bobby’s route home. I don’t see how they’d know about that.”

Ruth straightened up from where she’d been down beside her nephew. “I’m glad I left Bobby at home. How’re you two doing?”

“Fine,” Walter answered, holding out a hand to Doris, who gripped it tightly, not letting go. He looked up. “We’ll be fine. Won’t we?”

Doris’s face took on a grim façade. “You just let him try something so cowardly again, and I’ll show him the real meaning of hurt!”