Chapter Thriteen

The next event to affect the village was not unexpected as far as I was concerned. When the television crew arrived to make the documentary of the village and never returned to the studio, their disappearance was bound to start an investigation. It was certain that someone would come looking for them as well as the van and the apparatus. Within a few days of the incident, a man drove up to the entrance of the village to be stopped by me., He claimed that he was searching for the television crew who hadn’t returned to the studio and he wanted to know what had happened to them. He stated that he was one of the executive producers of Northern Television who had sent the team to undertake the documentary of Numbwinton following certain rumours that had come to his attention. He didn’t need to tell me that they had vanished into thin air. I had been there at the time when they were murdered and buried somewhere in a vast field. In accordance with my duty, I refused him entry, telling him to wait there until I called the police. However, he got out of the car and began to argue the point with me for some time, protesting that his crew had contacted him when they first arrived at the village so they must still be there. Despite my comments that he should wait, he kept saying that he failed to understand why they hadn’t reported back to him. I mentioned that their van, the first one, had been damaged and taken to the nearby garage for repair and this caused him to become highly suspicious despite my assurances that they had left the village.

‘They work for Northern Television’ he stated irately. ‘They wouldn’t have given up filming even if their van was damaged. They would have come back to the studio. I don’t buy what you’re telling me!’

‘Well they left and we never saw them again,’ I lied through my teeth. ‘You’d best look somewhere else... in the next place they were going to make a documentary.’

‘That’s not the way it works, chum!’ he insisted. ‘We planned this documentary for over three months. They would definitely have been here.’

I shrugged my shoulders aimlessly and shook my head, ‘I’m sorry,’ I informed him. ‘I can’t help you.’

He became even more suspicious at that point and began to threaten the village. ‘I’m going to contact the police and ask for a full investigation. Three men can’t simply go missing just like that. Something strange is going on here and I intend to get to the bottom of it!’

He got back into his car and drove off in a temper. He was excessively angry at not finding his crew or the studio equipment and I knew that he was definitely going to report the incident to the city police in Newcastle. I returned to the village police station to report the incident, noticing the negative attitude of the desk sergeant and PC7.

‘Let them bring the city police here,’ stated the desk sergeant calmly. ‘They won’t find anything... and none of the villagers will say a word. As far as it goes, those people never came here and we don’t know anything about them.’

‘Bloody strangers!’ muttered PC7 dismally. ‘They had no right to come here in the first place!’

‘If the city police do come, they’ll mount a long-lasting investigation,’ I advised them, although they already knew the score.

‘Let them come,’ muttered the desk sergeant tiredly. ‘We’ll soon send them packing!’

It was mid-afternoon when a police car passed me to drive up to the village police station. I raced behind the vehicle to see two uniformed policemen climb out, slamming the doors behind them. They walked into the police station to face the desk sergeant and PC7.

‘We’ve had a complaint of a serious nature,’ declared the first police officer. ‘Apparently, a television crew of three men from Northern Television came here to film a documentary of the village and they’ve disappeared... vanished into thin air. What can you tell me about it?’

‘They did come here,’ admitted the desk sergeant. ‘They had an accident with their van and tit was towed to the garage to be repaired. That’s all we know.’ It’s the last time we saw them.’

‘Are you telling me they didn’t return here?’ The tone of the second police officer was sharp and sceptical.

‘I told you,’ repeated the desk sergeant, ‘that was the last time we saw them.’

The two police officers shuffled their feet awkwardly for a few moments before continuing.

‘You’re absolutely certain of that,’ continued the first police officer like a dog with a bone.

The room fell silent for a moment before the second police officer took up the reins.

‘This village regards itself as independent from the rest of the country, doesn’t it?’ There was no response so he continued in the same vein. ‘You resent outsiders and the last thing you want is for a television crew to come here to make a documentary of the village and all that goes on here. You think the rest of the world will ridicule you for your practices.’ He was being extremely provocative but there was still no response and silence prevailed.

‘In that case,’ intervened the first police officer abruptly, ‘it stands to reason that you’d take it into your own hands to make sure it didn’t happen, wouldn’t you?’

‘For Christ’s sake!’ I broke in vehemently. ‘What do you think we did with them, officer? Do you really suggest that we did away with them on the grounds that we didn’t want them to film here? You must be out of your mind!’

‘Then tell us where they are! Do you have them locked up in the cells here?’

‘Of course not!’ I reproached him. ‘We’d tell you if only we knew. They left here to go to the garage to get their van repaired. That’s the last time we saw them! They must have driven off somewhere else.’

‘If their car was taken to the garage for repair, how could they have driven off somewhere else?’ submitted the second police officer.

‘We have no idea,’ cut in the desk sergeant. ‘There’s not much more we can say.’

‘Do you mind if we have a look around?’ asked the first policeman who knew that his request could not be refused.

‘Go ahead,’ responded the desk sergeant calmly, ‘but you won’t find anything here.’

For some strange reason, his comment seemed to make the police officers even more suspicious. Why had the desk sergeant confidently added ‘You won’t find anything here.’ Why not ‘You won’t find THEM here.’ It was as though he was throwing down the gauntlet, teasing them to distraction.

The two police officers left to further their enquiries leaving the desk sergeant, PC7 and myself staring at each other blankly. The city police would never find the grave where the bodies had been buried. It was in a distant field with the top soil stamped down hard and covered with leaves and grass. It would be a miracle if they ever found it.

After an hour had passed, and the police officers had questioned some of the villagers they returned to the village police station.

‘We’re not satisfied,’ claimed the first police officer. ‘We’re certain that the television crew returned to this village.’

‘How do you come to that conclusion when you have no proof?‘ asked the desk sergeant bluntly. ‘You’re simply wasting your time here.’

The second police officer glared at him angrily before responding. ‘We’re going to make further enquiries,’ he said harshly, ‘and we shall be back.’ He produced a calling card from his pocket which he laid on the desk in front of the desk sergeant. ‘If you think of anything in the meantime, telephone me at the Markham police station in Newcastle.’

‘I don’t think we can do that,’ cut in PC7 swiftly. The two police officers stared at him directly, as though an order from a higher authority was being contravened. ‘We don’t have such a thing as a telephone in the village. We couldn’t communicate with you in that way.’

On that comment, the two police officers left without delay, climbing into their vehicle and driving away from the village.

‘That’s the last we’ve seen of them,’ predicted the desk sergeant with a satisfied expression on his face. ’The very last!‘

PC7 began to laugh. It was the first time I had ever heard him do that and I shuddered because it was a very ugly sound.

It appeared that we had escaped the wrath of police authority with regard to the television crew for the time being. I was unhappy at having witnessed three murders but the swift burial of the bodies in a distant field appeared to have done the trick. Yet I had an uneasy feeling that the problem was only just beginning. The police wouldn’t simple let the matter drop. Dammit... three men were missing. It had become a capital case. There was no chance that the case would remain open for ever and a day. They had families and friends who would want to know what had happened to them and the police would keep digging until the matter was resolved.

***

I was awakened on the following morning by someone knocking on the door... At first I thought I was dreaming but the knocking continued and I climbed out of bed to go downstairs wearing the dressing-gown that had been given to me by Bridget which had belonged to her late husband. The knocking persisted and I called out that I was coming, glancing at my wristwatch to note that the time was seven-thirty. I opened the door to face Townsend who was standing agitatedly on the front doorstep. He had a worried expression on his face and he pushed past me rudely to walk into the lounge without saying a word. I frowned at his attitude and followed him as he sat in one of the armchairs pressing the fingers of both hands together in front of him. It was clear from his body language that he was distressed about something.

‘What’s going on?’ I managed to say, still half asleep from the sudden awakening.

‘We need to talk,’ he ranted, looking up at me strangely.

‘I’ll get dressed,’ I told him moving back towards the stairs hut he stopped me with a wave of his hand.

‘No you don’t need to do that,’ he uttered, with an imperative tone in his voice. ‘I’ve something to say which has been troubling me for some time.’ I sat down opposite him in another armchair to listen to what he had to tell me. ‘For a long time,’ he continued, ‘I’ve been having a dream. Not just once but the same one many times. Most people can’t remember their dreams but I know this one by heart. It comes to me regularly.’ He paused to reflect for a moment. ‘It’s about a stranger who comes to our village by accident and tries to find out our secret. He lives with one of our women, who falls in love with him, and he continues to search for the secret clandestinely, burrowing here and there. He eventually discovers what’s going on and leaves the village to tell the rest of the world. Do you recognise this stranger?’

I was beginning to come to my senses by now and a smile crossed my lips. ‘It’s only a dream, Mr. Townsend,’ I told him. ‘I’m no danger to this village. You should know that by now. I’m in love with Bridget and she with me. I’m not going anywhere.’

‘You may say that now but I don’t think so,’ he went on dolefully. ‘You arrived here by accident, penetrated our community, you’re living with one of our women, and the head chemist at the pharmacy tells me that you now know about P13 and its constituency. That makes you a danger to this village to say the least.’

‘I think there are two sides to this story,’ I countered sharply, beginning to become angry at the accusation, especially as the Chairman had made it so pointedly. ‘You forget that I’m the security guard working on behalf of the village. I also did my best to get rid of the city police when they came looking for that television crew. I am totally committed to...’

‘How can you say that, Mr. Ross,’ he interrupted rudely. ‘What have you done to be committed to us?’

‘What are you getting at, Mr. Townsend?’ I demanded, puzzled to determine why he had come. It seemed to me that he had suffered a bad night and that he was taking it out on me.

‘I want you to leave the village,’ he stated bluntly. ‘I want you to go and pretend that you’ve never heard of Numbwinton. It never existed as far as you’re concerned.’

‘And what do I do about Bridget?’ I blustered angrily. ‘Do I take her with me or leave her here?’

‘You can’t take her with you,’ he grunted, surprised that I should make such a suggestion. ‘She has to stay here.’

‘And who are you to tell me what to do?’ I felt my temper rising quickly.

‘I know this will be hard for you but it’s best if you leave here as soon as possible,’ he continued unabated. ‘And I advise you to keep all you’ve learned to yourself. If you don’t, we’ll be inundated with strangers curious to find out whether you’re telling the truth. You’ll be branded a fool, a gossip, and an adventurer.’

‘An adventurer,’ I scoffed, laughing in his face. ‘Well that’s something new.’ There was a pause in the discussion as we both reflected our positions. ‘I don’t think I could possibly leave Bridget even though I know she’s eighty-seven years old. I’m too much in lover with her the way she is now.’

‘In a way, I’m glad to hear it but it doesn’t change the situation.’

‘I’m sorry to spoil your plan, Mr. Townsend, but I’m going to stay whether you like it or not.’ I got to my feet indicating that I wanted him to leave but he remained firmly in the armchair.

At that moment Bridget entered the room. ‘What’s going on?’ she asked with a puzzled expression on her face as she saw the Chairman.

‘Mr. Townsend’s had a bad dream,’ I related calmly. ‘He dreams regularly about a stranger who comes to the village, lives with one of the women here, and destroys the whole community by revealing its secret to the rest of the world. In other words, he dreams about me. Now he’s asking me to leave the village and never to return. What do you think about that?’

To my surprise, she rounded on the Chairman in no uncertain terms.

‘How dare you!’ she reproached angrily with fury showing in her eyes. I was stunned at the speed at which she took offence as well as her loyalty towards me to safeguard my future in the village. ‘How dare you come into my home with the intention of ruining my life! Sam and I are in love. We’re devoted to each other. He’s done everything to win the hearts of the people of this village but you... you horrible miserable man... you want him to go! Where’s the sense in that?’

Her tirade caused Townsend to rise from the armchair and walk towards the door, raising his hands as if trying to preserve the peace. However he didn’t withdraw his request and he never mentioned it again.

‘I’ll say no more about it,’ he said finally. ‘I’ll say no more.’

‘I’ve got the measure of you, Townsend,’ I snapped as he was leaving. ‘You’ll not get rid of me that easily... so dream on!’

He left the house with his tail between his legs, leaving Bridget and I to discuss the matter further although there was not a lot for us to say. She was furious at his suggestion. Her whole world revolved around our wonderful relationship together. The last thing she wanted was to lose me... especially when it was at the whim of another person’s dreams.

***

To my horror, the desk sergeant was forced to eat his words the following day. Without warning, two police vans, with their sirens blazing, were driven into the village whereby eight well-built police officers in uniforms emerged. They went directly into the police station and their body language and facial expressions indicated how serious they were taking the case.

‘We’ve made enquiries about the television crew from Northern Television,’ stated the police officer who had come to investigate the incident on the first occasion.

‘And what have you discovered?’ asked the desk sergeant with an impertinent tone in his voice.

‘It’s been corroborated that a van owned by the television network was practically destroyed in this village and that it was towed to a garage in Sprockton,’ he went on, his face moving no more than six inches away from that of the desk sergeant. ‘But they returned in another vehicle which witnesses saw being driven towards this village at night. Now I’ll ask you once again. What happened to that second vehicle and the television crew that was in it... because it was never seen again!’

‘Search me!’ returned the desk sergeant shrugging his shoulders. ‘It’s not our fault if no one saw the van leave. It’s not here.’

‘That’s not the answer I’m looking for,’ chided the police officer with a tinge of anger in his voice. ‘You know full well that the second vehicle and the crew are somewhere in this village. Now I’m asking you again. Where are they?’

There was no doubt in the police officer’s mind that the television crew were still there in the village. He was adamant that they were still alive but being held prisoner for their intrusion.

‘I told you,’ bleated the desk sergeant,’ they left the village and we haven’t seen them since.’

The police officer stepped back before responding. ‘I want to look at the cells,’ he snarled, giving short shrift to the desk sergeant who reluctantly handed him a set of keys.

‘Be my guest!’ he muttered, turning his attention to a file on his desk, showing complete disinterest at the posse of policemen gathered there.

There was a lull in the proceedings as the police officer , accompanied by a police sergeant, went to the cells. They returned shortly staring coldly at the desk sergeant.

‘We’re going to ask the villagers once more about the missing men,’ he said flatly. ‘This time they’d better tell us the truth. You see, we’re going to find them wherever you’ve hidden them.’

The desk sergeant shrugged his shoulders aimlessly, indicating that he cared little for the investigation, and the eight policemen left to continue their enquiries. They started to question every villager in sight throughout the day causing mayhem in the village as they intruded into everyone’s daily routine. They knocked on doors and kept asking questions but everyone kept a tight lip about the incident that had taken place. The villagers hoped that the police would soon tire of questioning them and leave the village in peace. This would certainly have happened had it not been for one young boy by the name of Paul Brazier. He was the son of a farmer who lived with his wife on the outskirts of the village operating a cattle farm. The boy had been in the company of Robert, Bridget’s son, and, when the police were doing their rounds questioning the village folk, the two boys quickly discussed the matter between them.

‘This is our great chance to establish our own independence,’ declared Robert boldly. ‘We can make our stand now!’

‘But it means that the village will be in deep trouble,’ returned Brazier, concerned at the outcome.

‘It’s what we need to do,’ asserted Bridget’s son adamantly. ‘We make our mark now!’

‘Are you absolutely certain about this?’ asked the other boy. ‘I mean we’ll all get into deep trouble.’

‘We have to strike hard at some point and this is it,’ continued Robert solidly. ‘This is our great opportunity. We must go ahead and od it!’

Ultimately, Brazier went to one of the policemen reluctantly to tell him that he knew the location of the bodies of the three television crewmen were buried. His motives were not understood at the time but his betrayal had a savage impact on the future of the village.

Within a few minutes, the policemen returned to their vehicles to arm themselves with forks and shovels before following the young boy into one of the fields where he pointed to a vacant spot near to the side of a hedge. The police quickly installed a number of stakes around the site and tied a thick blue cord around them with a large sign which read: ‘POLICE: DO NOT ENTER THIS AREA!’ Most of the villagers stood around idly watching them dig furiously. After a short while, one of the shovels hit an object that sounded like metal. It had struck the top of the buried van. The police continued digging for some time before they exposed the whole vehicle and, when they looked inside, they found the bodies of the three television crewmen laying there. It had been the expectation of the leading police officer to find the men held in the cells of the police station, incarcerated as a punishment for their intrusion. The last thing he expected was to find three dead bodies buried in a field. Now, as a result of the information given to them by young Paul Brazier, they had a murder enquiry on their hands. It was homicide in the first degree. The next stage was to find out who had murdered them, After all, they could not arrest the eleven hundred people in the village. The leading police officer used his mobile telephone to arrange for an ambulance to come to take away the bodies.

They returned to the police station in force. This time, the first police officer attacked the desk sergeant ferociously.

‘We’ve found the van and the bodies!’ he snarled in the knowledge that he had the daunting evidence under his control. ‘Before I place you and your constable under arrest for wasting police time as well as being involved in the murder of three men, I’d like to hear your side of the story.’

The desk sergeant’s face went white at the accusation and for a moment he failed to speak. When he found his voice, it wavered uncertainly as he realised the import of the police officer’s words. The game was up and someone was going to have to pay the price for the crime.

‘I know nothing about any murders,’ he bleated weakly. ‘If someone did kill those people then it’s your duty to find out who did it... not mine to defend myself.’

‘We’ll find out who did it all right,’ claimed the police officer angrily. ‘But you must have some idea. If not, we have no choice but to arrest Mr. Brazier, for it was on his farm that we discovered the grave. But he couldn’t possibly have dug such a deep hole by himself. There had to be others involved.’

‘I think that now you’ve discovered the bodies, you should face the villagers with the fact and see what they have to say about it,’ forwarded PC7, which did not go down well with the visiting city police.

‘We’ve already done that!’ shouted the police officer even more irately. ‘No one appears to know anything about it. Now who’s not telling the truth Mr. Brazier seems to have disappeared. We need to question him immediately. I’d advise you to tell me where he is!’

The desk sergeant shrugged his shoulders. ‘There’s eleven hundred people in this village,’ he returned sharply, regaining some of his poise. ‘It’s not our duty to find out where they all are all the time.’

‘You realise this means a search of every property here. We now need to question every single person here,’ continued the police officer.

‘Do what you will,’ conceded PC7 sombrely, distraught that the issue had come to light.

Before anyone could made further demands, the noise of a crowd of people could be heard outside the police station. The visiting police, the desk sergeant and PC7 went outside to find out what was happening. They were faced with over three hundred villagers standing there shouting and yelling at the tops of their voices. They had heard that the bodies had been discovered and had turned up to redress the situation. The desk sergeant raised his hand to silence them before addressing the mob.

‘Why are you all here?’ he demanded.

‘As the representative of the villagers here at present, we all admit that we killed the three people who intruded into our village at the dead of night,’ declared a man at the front. ‘We thought that they were burglars and when we confronted them, they resisted strongly. In the fight that ensued, they were trampled on. If they hadn’t come to burgle our houses, they would have still been alive today.’

I admired the excuse which I thought was commendable. Death by accident or by the necessity of defending oneself.

‘So you’re saying that all of you killed those men,’ gasped the desk sergeant in disbelief.

‘It was at dead of night and we couldn’t see anything, that’s why they were accidentally trampled to death.’

‘I’m going to wait for the autopsy report,’ exclaimed the police officer, ‘only there was evidence of a knife would on one of the bodies.’ He needed to consider the implications in his mind. He had never come across a case of this kind before and realised that he would have to refer the case to his senior officer. ‘It’s quite clear that the men were crushed to death, However, it appears that each one of them was struck with a blunt instrument. We shall investigate further. You can be sure of it!’

He made a signal to the other policemen and the climbed into their vehicles and drove away from the village. Without any doubt, the matter had a long way to go before something serious happened. The police would definitely pin the murders on some members of the village, however they couldn’t arrest three hundred people for the crime. And there were also mitigating circumstances because they did intrude in the middle of the night... to a village with no street lights or electricity. I had seen three men murdered in cold blood but I was unable to tell the police anything about it at all. If I did, my presence in the village would degenerate into oblivion and I would soon be forced to leave. It wasn’t only me I had to think of... there was Bridget as well. It was a catch twenty-two situation.

***

When Paul Brazier returned home that evening, he was accompanied by Robert McBain. The two of them were gleeful in their mischief nourishing a sound motive. However, any kind of misdemeanour in the village resulted in punishment of one kind or another and young Brazier had to face his father to explain his decision to inform the police.

‘Why did you tell them about the bodies and show them the grave?’ he demanded angrily. He had spent a great deal of time and trouble over the past few years teaching his son not to get involved with strangers or to provide anyone with information concerning the village. Yet the boy had actually taken the police to the burial site of his own volition.

‘You’ve got to understand our problem,’ stated young Brazier firmly, determined to make his position clear.

‘Never mind that,’ exclaimed his father irately, ignoring his son’s plea. ‘You need to understand the situation for the village now that you revealed the information to the city police.’

‘Listen to me father,’ continued the boy tearfully, ready to tell him of the problem being faced by the children. ‘I’m forty-one years old now and I still go to school. It’s nonsensical! In addition, I’m not allowed to do anything a normal adult can do. I can’t go out with women. I can’t fend for myself and I have to take orders from my parents. If this was a normal village, I’d be grown up, have a wife, children, and I could do anything I wanted to. My life would be completely different.’

‘Well it isn’t... so you can’t!’ snapped his father curtly. ‘As far as it goes, you’re still a young boy and you ought to behave like one.’ He paused to think about events. ‘Is that the reason why you told the city police about the grave?’

‘Yes it is!’ cut in Robert to come under the scorching eyes of his friend’s father. ‘All the children in the village feel that they’re repressed by the adults. We want to be allowed to grow up and enjoy our own lives, not remain as children with no life at all.’

‘You speak when you’re spoken to, boy!’ chided Brazier senior, fuming at the interruption from his son’s young friend. He turned to Paul with fury showing on his face. ‘I’ll deal with you later!’

Young Brazier fried to reconcile his relationship with his father but the man refused to hear of it. ‘You’re to go to your bedroom and stay there. It’s for your own protection because I don’t know what the villagers intend to do with you when they find out what they did. As far as I’m concerned, you’ll go without food for three days as punishment.’

’He’s right about protection,’ added Robert solemnly. ’They’ll want to lynch you.’

’But you told me to do it!’ protested young Brazier lamely.

‘I know... and you did the right thing. We children have to make our mark,’ concluded Robert boldly.

The farmer then turned to the young McBain. ‘Get out of my house!’ he shouted angrily. ‘You’re the one who should have his head on the block, not my son! You influenced him to go to the police. Get out!’

Robert left the farmhouse and returned home immediately. He was unrepentant at having forced his friend to betray the villagers. He still felt he was in the right for striking out for the children of the village. Their quest was to was to grow up and experience the life enjoyed by the adults.

I was at home when Robert returned. He had a glowing smile on his face as he went directly to his bedroom. I often wondered how he occupied himself when he was there. I didn’t believe that he read books all the time. More likely he was planning to conspire with the other schoolchildren, plotting to do what he thought was right. I was intrigued to know what he intended to do but kept my cool to stay right out of it. Instead I sat in the lounge with Bridget who had just started to read another book. She was well engrossed in it when I disturbed her by slapping my hand aimlessly on the side of the armchair. She looked up puzzled as to why I had done so, and I caught her attention immediately.

’I’ve been thinking about Townsend’s visit,’ I began, playing the devil’s advocate more out of sheer boredom that anything else.

’Whatever that man told you, I’d forget if I were you,’ she advanced sharply. ’He spouted nonsense!’

’I’m not so sure,’ I persisted mischievously. ‘Maybe he did speak sense. Sometimes if you turn a situation upside down you come to the right conclusion. I toyed with the idea that if I did leave. I’d be free, unencumbered, without a partner or her child.

‘What on earth are you thinking of?’ she asked vaguely.

‘Perhaps it’s my destiny to leave,’ I told her cautiously. ‘When it all boils down, I’m a stranger who knows too much about the secret of the village.’

‘What do you know?’ she enquired as if I was trying to fool her by pretending that I understood all of them.

‘I know that everyone here takes two tablets every day which keeps them looking young and virile. At the same time, it allows them to live for much longer than normal human-beings. Obadiah Numbwinton, who founded the village, was a brilliant chemist who discovered an element which allows people in their eighties to look no more than twenty-seven years of age. The children are suppressed and angry because they remain looking exceedingly young when they’re about the age of forty. Numbwitnon discovered the element P13 which is the ingredient that keeps everyone look young and helps them to retain their age. He also laid out a set of conventions to retain the village as it was in his day and it still remains different to the rest of Britain, keeping out all strangers... except for myself of course. It has to, by convention, keep it population at the figure of eleven hundred people to retain the balance of the village. How am I doing so far?’

‘Very good,’ she commented, applauding by clapping her hands.

‘There’s just one thing that baffles me,’ I went on, charging like a bull in a china shop. ‘I don’t see a lot of the villagers walking around during the day. They tend to remain in their houses... except for those who tend the fields and look after the cattle. And they don’t enjoy any exercise. I’ve notice that. No one runs or jogs here. There’s no outdoor activities. Everything’s pretty much static.’

‘Well that’s something you didn’t find out, did you?’ she laughed pleasantly. The reason is that the tablets don’t work the same on everyone. The metabolism of some of the villagers resist a part of their effects. The villagers still look young but when they get to a certain age, usually about a hundred years, their joints stiffen and they get a touch of arthritis. Obadiah’s tablets didn’t account for everything. That’s why they don’t do very much outdoors.’

I nodded at the details and pursed my lips together thoughtfully. ‘What would you do if I decided to leave?’ I asked, believing that I knew what she would say but I was astounded by her answer.

‘I’d come with you, of course. Naturally I’d have to take Robert with us... I doubt whether he would mind.’

‘Really!’ I exclaimed with surprise. ‘You’d leave the village?’

‘Our intimate life is so fantastic I’d give up everything just for a few years of it... ’

‘You realise you’d run out of tablets in due course,’ I explained. . ‘What would happen to you then?’

‘I have no idea. One of the villagers told us that, in time, we wouldn’t need to take the tablets because our systems would become immune but that theory has never been tested... and Richard, my late husband, died because he stopped taking them. I’d exchange the rest of my life just to be with you.’

I realised that I had gone too far and I was flattered that the woman was so deeply in love with me that she would sacrifice her life to live outside the village as long as I stayed with her.

‘Maybe its’ not such a good idea to leave,’ I told her, retracting all that I had said. ‘I love you Bridget McBain and, yes, our intimate relationship is fantastic. I’ll agree to that. You’re a very beautiful woman... your hairs, your eyes, your body... especially your body...’

We both burst into laughter at my comment and she moved from her armchair to hug me and kiss me on the lips lovingly.

‘What work would you do if we did leave?’ she asked innocently, although I knew that it was a hypothetical question.

I dwelt on the question for a few moments not knowing what to say. ‘I think I might sign up again with the army, Only this time I’d be sent to Afghanistan and not Iraq.’ I paused for a moment and then changed my mind. ‘No... I think it’s best if I stay in the village.’

She smiled at me with an evil grin on her face. ‘Come on, Ross,’ she said laughingly. ‘Come to bed! I command you to come to bed!’

I sighed for a moment, closing my eyes. We had enjoyed wonderful physical intimae sex for the last fourteen days in succession. It was consistent, regular, exhilarating each time, but I was beginning to weaken with my resolve even though I enjoyed ever moment I made love to her. The problem was time and strength. I certainly needed time to restore my energy and enthusiasm. She was a lithe, virile, exciting woman and we had learned a couple of new positions outlined in the book she had obtained from the library which enhanced our sexual activity to a much higher level. In essence, life in the bedroom was absolutely marvellous and if I left the village it would all be taken away from me, especially if she changed her mind and decided to stay. At last I had proved to her that, even though I knew all the secrets of the village, I would never reveal them to anyone in the outside world... least of all to my sister, Mary!