chapter 5 - and they cast lots

Chapter 5 – And they cast lots

Chaz finally got around to calling in at the Thrasher that evening for a pint. The pub was thatched, and painted pink over its timber frame, and had a painting of an old man with a flail threshing, or in the local parlance, thrashing, grain.  Chaz thought the old man looked somewhere between tipsy and dyspeptic.

He went in.

The interior was cosy, and managed to combine the look of an olde-worlde cottage with modern conveniences. A few tables in one corner constituted the restaurant, and there was a room off the main bar with a hatch through to the bar area presumably for those who wanted a bit more privacy.  Chaz hitched himself onto a stool by the bar.  The pub was not full yet, but there were a few people in, and an old oak cupboard had been opened to reveal a wide screen TV.  Chaz thought it typical of the place that it should be hidden with period furniture, and wondered if he should think himself lucky that nobody he had yet visited covered the legs of their furniture with furniture pantalettes the way the Victorans had done.  Some pretty local scenes hung on the walls, and Chaz thought them decidedly ‘chocolate box’ in look.

“What’ll you have, vicar?” asked Tony.

“A pint of old ale, if you have it,” said Chaz.  Tony drew a pint and handed it over.

“Hear you’ve been to visit Lucy Grey,” said Tony.  “That will alter the book a bit.”

Chaz drew on his pint, savouring the froth, and sank half of it before deigning to reply. It had a pleasant nutty flavour, and Chaz resolved that this would be his tipple of choice here. He lifted an eyebrow at Tony’s comment.

“And what book is that?  I should come the vicar and mention that there is only one Book which needs no title.”

Tony laughed.

“Oh, you know how people are when they don’t have enough to do; women gossip and find fault, and men lay bets.  There are odds on which woman makes a move on you first, and argument over whether Kate Rosier’s efforts count; and which ones you will find interesting.  It brings a little interest to humdrum lives.”

“I assume the doctor who married his receptionist and moved on also fulfilled this function of entertainment?” said Chaz, finishing his pint.  “Another, please; but two’s my limit. It’s been a busy day.  And if you can be discreet?”

“I’m paid to be discreet, same as you, only my customers only use the confessional at the bar when they are half cut, and their favourite litany is ‘another pint, Tony’,” said Tony. “What do you need discretion about?”

“I believe a Mrs. Brady used to run Girl Guides,” said Chaz.  “Now it has come to my attention that someone associated with the company might have acted inappropriately to some of the girls, and I just want it known that my door is open if anyone needs to talk about it.”

“Oh, you heard of Dan Brady, did you?” said Tony. “I took my girl out of Guides when I found out what he was up to. Thumped him too, when the police did not want to take it seriously because Mrs. Brady alibi’d him; couldn’t believe it of her husband.”

“So it’s common knowledge?”

“Let’s just say it’s an open secret, as so many secrets around here are,” said Tony.

“Well, if your daughter has friends who need to talk, and someone who will back them if they decide they want to prosecute, I’m available,” said Chaz.

“Not much point after all this time, I shouldn’t think,” said Tony.  “But I suppose it might be closure for some.  You want him locked up, I suppose?”

“He is; in a home which is under the impression that he is senile,” said Chaz, with grim satisfaction.

“Brace yourself, then; you just made yourself even more of a prize for the ladies,” said Tony.  “I don’t suppose anyone will speak up, they would likely be shunned by some of them as has a voice around here, and gossip being what it is, you can be sure that some people will make out that they were the ones to blame by leading him on.”

“Surely only a pervert could think that little girls were leading him on?” said Chaz, startled.

Tony shrugged.

“Well, reverend, you know and I know that he was only interested in them up to about the age of thirteen, but there are those people who would say that they must have done something to make themselves seem older.  If it had been Brownies, now ...”

“Can you be sure it wasn’t?” asked Chaz, soberly.  “He was after two nine year olds, you know.”

Tony’s eyes widened.

“I’ll ask around,” he said.  “Meanwhile, putting him out of reach will make you a lot of female friends, so be warned!”

Chaz laughed, and sipped his second pint, watching some of the men in the pub make side-bets on the sports screen.

“Is this the limit of the gambling?” he asked Tony.

Tony shot him a look.

“Oh, you’re heading into the territory of the other things we don’t talk about, are you?” he said.

“Of course; it’s my job to be a busybody,” said Chaz.

“Well, we don’t have any betting shops in the village; not quayte naice, if you take my meaning,” said Tony.

“But?” said Chaz.

“There’s a couple of betting shops in Collingham,” said Tony.  “Some of the men drop in during horse racing season, and some pool their resources on a nag of their choice, and no harm in that, they pay fifty pence each week into the pool, and share and share alike any wins.  I don’t suppose they do better than break even overall, but it’s like paying for a club.”

Chaz nodded.

“Nobody can object to a proper sweepstake club,” he said.  “And I still say,’ but?’ To you.”

Tony sighed.

“It’s Amos Crow,” he said.  “He carries the sweepstake to the betting shop for the others, and bets his own money.  There was a bit of argie-bargy last year when the boys accused him of putting their money on his choice, but he managed their pay-out somehow.  I think he steals from his workplace, which is the convenience store. And he has a temper, and has been known to slap his wife around when she gets irritable about not having any housekeeping to feed the family.”

Chaz nodded.

“Point me at Amos Crow,” he said.

“He’s the one speaking at the moment,” said Tony.  Chaz observed the rather unkempt man in an old tee and torn cargo pants.

“Looks as though he neglects himself a bit,” he said.

“Yes, and he’s on warning at work to smarten up or get out,” said Tony.  “Customers don’t like being served by someone who looks as though he will contaminate their loaf of sliced white.”

“You know, I can’t really understand why anyone would buy steamed bread in bags from large distributors when there’s a village bakery which makes bread on the premises.  It can’t be the convenience of slicing, as they have a machine,” said Chaz, diverted to another course.

“Oh, it’s what people find convenient for toasting,” said Tony.  “I like real bread myself, but I have the packet bread in for customers wanting to buy breakfast or for the ‘toast and’ option I do for lighter teas.”

“Ah, I see,” said Chaz.  “I believe I want an introduction to Mr. Crow.”

“Okay,” said Tony. “OY!  Amos!  The Rev Chaz wants to be made known to you.”

Amos Crow came over truculently.

“I suppose someone has talked out of turn and you think you can tear me off a strip,” he said, thrusting forward a pugnacious and unshaven chin.

“Oh! Not at all,” said Chaz.  “If you know you have done something to be ashamed of, then it’s the business of you and your conscience, isn’t it?  No, I heard that you were a sporting man, and I wanted to lay a bet with you.”

“Oh!” said Amos, taken aback, his eyes suddenly gleaming.  “And what bet is that, Reverend?”

Amos’ friends came over too.

“I bet you five thousand pounds that you can’t keep from gambling for a year,” said Chaz.

The room went quiet.

“That’s a lot of money, vicar,” said Wendel Whitely, the vet.

“It’s a lot of willpower to win it,” said Chaz.  “And I don’t know if Amos has enough willpower to win it.”

“We can help him win it,” said a snub-nosed, sandy haired individual. “We can talk him out of making any bets.”

“It’d mean someone else taking on the pot to deliver to the betting shop,” said Chaz, “And Amos being let off his weekly half quid.”

“I’ll take the pot,” said Wendel.  “I don’t like horse racing; I hate what it does to the horses.  So I’m not going to get tempted.  It’s as a favour to my neighbours.”

“Thanks, Wendel,” said Chaz.  “Are you up for it, Amos?”

“I ... I dunno how I’d pay off if I lost,” said Amos, licking his lips, nervously.

“Then you’d better not lose, had you?” said Chaz. “Your mates will keep you straight.”

“Hell, yes,” said the snub-nosed one.  “We’ll keep you on the straight and narrow, Amos! Your wife won’t know what’s come over you, in every evening and with money to spend.”

“I’ll take you up, reverend,” said Amos. “I know it’s a ploy to stop me gambling, but so help me, this is the first help I’ve been offered by anyone.”

His friends shuffled guiltily.

Chaz was glad that they appreciated that they had added to Amos’ problem!

“So tell me more about the stakes on my marital prospects,” he said, dryly.

“Vicar, I already laid a bet on you, does that count?” asked Amos, urgently.

“If you laid it before my wager with you, it does not count,” said Chaz.  “But I hope you lose, because I don’t want a big win tempting you again.”

“I bet on you with Lyndsey the mad cat woman,” muttered Amos.

Chaz laughed.

“Apparently I am supposed to have got about,” he said. “I wonder if anyone has anything on me with the hairdresser who comes in from Collingham once a week?”

There was a mad scramble for a big book which lived on the bar.

“Not for me, thanks,” said Amos.  “I want that five grand!”

“I believe in you, Amos,” said Chaz.  “Believe me, I’ve never wanted so much in my life to lose that amount of money!”

“Look, I won’t be causing you no hardship, will I?” asked Amos, nervously.

“I never bet what I can’t afford to lose,” said Chaz. “And that’s when betting isn’t harmful.  But betting with what you can’t afford to lose is just a mug’s game.”

“D’you think I don’t know that?” said Amos.  “But it just seems to seize me, that if I put all I can get on this nag or that machine, I will win it back.”

“I’ll tell you about how those machines are made, one day, Amos,” said Chaz. “They are designed to pay out less than you put into them.  Sure, some people get lucky; but it doesn’t happen often.  Just enough to keep the punters hungry for more.  You might just as well bet on Delaney’s Donkey.”

Amos laughed.

“Do you sing, vicar?” he asked. “I know the song, though I can’t bring it all to mind right now.”

“Only if persuaded very hard,” said Chaz.  “I’ve no brilliant voice, I’m afraid.”

“Oh we’ll have to induct you into the village choir,” said the snub nosed man, people were addressing him as Barnie.  “It ain’t the same people as the church choir, nowise, because we sing things which some of the old besoms would faint to hear, especially if any of the singers were in the church choir.”

“My great uncle was a dissenter, and he always used to say the devil comes into the church through the choir,” said Chaz.  “Well, I’ll think about it.  What sort of clubs are there here?”

“There’s the cricket club, run by Sir Tall-yarn Dickwit,” said Barnie.  “Mind he has to take anyone who’s any good.  Do you play, vicar?”

“I’m a handy bowler but a lousy bat,” said  Chaz, who had once used his bowling skill to lob a live grenade out of the position he was occupying.  “Anything else?”

“The posh types play golf out on the western side of the village,” volunteered Amos.  “We have a pub darts team, though.”

“And what goes on in that fine village hall?” asked Chaz.

“W.I., flower arranging lessons,  and zumba,” said Barnie.

“I doubt I could pass the medical for the W.I.,” said Chaz, which elicited much mirth.  “Flower arranging isn’t my thing, and I’m not sure I could manage Zumba, either.  I’ll see if I can’t get a few more lessons going for those who have a mind; why don’t you lads talk about it and make a list of skills you’d like to learn?  I don’t think I could have parachuting and hang-gliding in the village hall though.”

They laughed again.

“Some of us would like to learn how you dealt so easily with Dickwit,” said one of the others. 

“Martial arts?  I should think I might run that myself,” said Chaz.  “A mixed class though; the ladies may want to learn some self-defence.”

“I’d run a class on caring properly for your pets if I was welcome,” said Wendel.  “It’s amazing how many animals come to me with problems which could be overcome if they had been cared for correctly.”

“A good one,” said Chaz.

“I’d run basic car maintenance, but some lessons would have to be practicals at the garage,” said Barnie.  “I run the garage, and though it’s money for old rope, I’d as soon not have to do the silly little jobs people could do for themselves.”

“This is great, we are really getting some good ideas,” said Chaz.   “Ok, we’ll move towards those three in the meantime, and if you ask around  and see if there’s anything else we need, we will do it.  And if Wendel, Barny and I charge a little for the class, it can go towards hiring specialist teachers, deal?”

There were murmurs of assent.

Chaz finally went home feeling well satisfied.