Nick’s early start to the day meant that the village was just coming to life as he began his patrol of the main street. The first person he saw was George Ward, putting several empty barrels and some crates of bottles outside in readiness for the arrival of the delivery wagon later in the morning.

  ‘Morning, George.’ Nick offered the usual pleasantries, adding, ‘Look, if anybody offers you cheap pheasants today, give me a call, will you?’

  ‘Greengrass been at it again, has he?’ asked George, his eyebrows raised in wry amusement.

  ‘I think this job was a bit out of his league. There’s over three hundred been nicked. Don’t ask where from, it’s not for public consumption.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be hard to guess, would it, with there being a shooting day not a million miles from here yesterday. But right, I’ll call. Three hundred gone! Wow, there’s a few good dinners among that lot!’

  ‘Exactly what somebody else has in mind.’

  George nodded. ‘Right, now, while you’re here, Nick, you’d better know that our Gina did a check on the bar stock yesterday, and reckons there’s a bottle of gin missing. We usually keep a spare below the counter, ready to slot into the optics. She says it’s vanished.’ ‘One bottle of gin? Is that all?’

  ‘Yes, I can’t see anything else has gone missing. Who’d break in to pinch a bottle of gin, Nick?’

  ‘Search me, George. But thanks.’

  Nick’s next call was at Bill Francis’s shop where the butcher had already been at work for several hours; he was now preparing his counter and display for the day. Nick entered to find fourteen fresh pheasants hanging from the rafters.

  ‘Who’s your supplier for these pheasants, Bill?’

  ‘A chap in Ashfordly, Harry Penrose. Why?’

  ‘Legitimate, are they?’

  ‘Sure, he breeds them for domestic consumption. Why all the questions?’

  ‘Some have been nicked nearby, I’m not allowed to say where from. More than three hundred, to be honest. We’re trying to find out who’s getting rid of them.’

  ‘Aye, well, if it’s who I think it is who’s lost them, I’m not sorry. He’s got more money than me. But Penrose is straight, Nick, you can ask him. Besides, you can’t tell one pheasant from another, can you?’

  ‘OK, thanks. You’ll give me a call if anybody does offer you lots of them cheap?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Bill as his son, Richard, emerged into the shop in his school blazer.

  He bade farewell to his father and said he might be late home tonight, he was thinking of may be going to see a James Bond film after school.

  ‘Did you enjoy beating yesterday?’ Nick asked the lad.

  ‘Yeah, it was good fun, Mr Rowan,’ replied Richard quickly and hurried away to catch his bus.

  ‘He’s got his eye on Matt Rawlings’s lass,’ smiled Bill. ‘He keeps trying to get her to go out with him, but she’s a close one, is that. Her dad’s too protective if you ask me. Damn it, Nick, she is seventeen. Big enough and old enough, as they say. But he still treats her like a little kid.’

  ‘So Richard’s hoping to get her to go to the pictures with him, eh?’

  ‘And a good thing, I say,’ smiled Bill. ‘Well, I must be getting on. I’ve got my sausages to string up now.’

  Nick was in time to see the school bus come to a halt outside the post office and the assembled gang of children clamber noisily on board. Among them was Susan Rawlings; Nick saw her kiss her father’s cheek before joining the others.

  ‘Have a nice time,’ he said, handing her some money as she boarded the coach. She thanked him as the door closed.

  Rawlings saw Nick approaching and smiled. ‘She’s staying late tonight, Nick, going out to a film with a girlfriend, she says. Carol somebody or other. Who’d have a young daughter? I worry myself sick about our Susan. I mean she is attractive.’

  ‘I’m sure she can look after herself,’ smiled Nick.

  ‘Aye, but I saw the way some of those beaters looked at her yesterday. It worries me sick, the way some lads ogle young lasses.’

  ‘It’s all part of growing up, Matt. But I’m pleased you care, some parents don’t give a toss about their kids. Now, any more developments about the famous pheasant felony?’

  ‘I’ve got to find replacements for every one before his Lordship’s guests leave,’ said Rawlings. ‘I’ve had words with some of the other estates and breeders hereabouts. I can rustle up enough, I’m sure. I’m getting lots delivered when I get back; it’ll cost His Lordship a bomb but I reckon the crisis is over. All that matters to him is not to look a twit in front of his guests.’

  ‘Well, I’ve got no leads yet. I’m convinced Greengrass isn’t responsible, Matt, even though he was in your woods for some nefarious purpose yesterday.’

  Rawlings nodded. “Thanks for trying, Nick. If I get any tips, I’ll call you.’

  When Ashfordly Grammar School’s day ended at half past three, Susan Rawlings walked towards the bus stop with her friends. Richard Francis was waiting, seeking an opportunity to have a quick word with Susan about going to the pictures.

  He knew she had planned to stay in town this evening because her dad had said something to her before she’d boarded the bus this morning, and had given her some money. Right now, Susan was talking to a group of classmates. When they heard the bus groaning up the slope towards the bus stop she bade farewell to her friends.

  ‘I’ll see you tomorrow,’ Richard heard her say.

  Without a glance at him, she hurried away towards the town centre, almost at a run. Richard was frozen with indecision. Clearly, she’d not seen him or, if she had, she had taken deliberate action to avoid him. Or did she expect him to follow her? But she was moving very quickly away and, as the others boarded the bus home, he decided to follow her. She continued her rapid pace along the street, ducking into a narrow alley between the King’s Head Hotel and the Black Lion Inn. He turned in after her to see her hurrying up the slight incline, looking neither left nor right as she made her way through the narrow lane. She emerged at the far end where the lane formed a junction with a busy street. Here she stopped for a moment to decide which direction to take, and then moved away towards a council estate which stood at the far side of the junction.

  Richard saw her stop a child who was wheeling a bicycle and ask for directions, whereupon the small boy pointed along an avenue of council houses.

  Susan resumed her hurried mission, walking swiftly along the footpath towards one of the houses. Then, outside Number 15, Acacia Avenue, she stopped. There seemed to be a moment of uncertainty as she gazed around. Richard thought she was going to turn and walk away - but, after taking a deep breath, she opened the gate and stepped through. With apparent confidence, she knocked on the front door, which was eventually opened by a smiling middle-aged woman. It was evident to Richard that she had been expecting Susan, because she was admitted straight away and the door closed behind her.

  Puzzled, Richard wondered what to do. Perhaps this was a relation of Susan’s? An aunt or great-aunt, maybe? Perhaps she’d gone there for tea before going to the pictures? Richard had nothing to do, and as it was a long time before the next bus back to Aidensfield, he decided to wait.

  It was dark by the time Susan emerged, and Richard thought she looked sick; the brisk energetic walk had gone and she seemed to be struggling to move. He waited until he felt sure she was heading back towards the lane between the two pubs, then ran ahead to accost her.

  ‘Susan?’ He was standing under a streetlamp when she reached him.

  ‘Oh, Richard, hi.’ Under the glow of the light, she looked even more pale and tired. ‘You all right?’

  ‘I don’t feel too good,’ she admitted, trying a brave smile. ‘I think I must have eaten something.’

  ‘Shall I get us a taxi home?’ he said. ‘I’ve got some money, I was saving some of my beater’s pay.’

  ‘That would be nice.’ Her smile revealed her gratitude, it’s cold, hanging around for buses.’

  ‘Do you want something to eat?’

  ‘No, I had something not long ago,’ she said. ‘I just want to go home. Do you mind?’

  ‘No, course not.’

  Solicitously Richard took her to Halcombe’s Taxi Services where he was able to secure a ride to Aidensfield. During the short run, Susan barely said a word; she huddled into a corner of the rear seat, clutching her hands about herself and clearly not wishing to communicate with Richard. The taxi dropped Richard off outside his father’s home which adjoined the butcher’s shop, and the driver took Susan on to her parents’ cottage on the Ashfordly estate.

  At three o’clock the following morning, Nick was lying awake. He was restless and couldn’t sleep; the problems of the spate of crimes on his beat just wouldn’t allow his brain to relax. He tossed and turned in bed and his wakefulness also prevented Kate from sinking into a deep slumber.

  ‘What’s the matter, Nick? For heaven’s sake try to relax!’

  ‘Sorry, luv,’ he apologised, I can’t get to sleep, it’s all those crimes, the thought that somebody’s out there, breaking into property on my patch. It’s so bloody annoying.’

  ‘Don’t take it personally, Nick,’ Kate said gently.

  ‘I can’t help it; it’s as if somebody’s got it in for me, proving I’m powerless to stop them. It’s not Claude Jeremiah, I’m convinced of that. So who else would steal his Lordship’s pheasants? And nick a single bottle of gin from the pub? Is one person responsible for all these crimes, or is it a gang?’ He sighed, I want to stop the crimes, Kate, but I can’t be everywhere at once. I can’t stand around and guard every house and shop in this place, twenty-four hours a day.’

  ‘And you need your sleep, Nick.’ She turned and put her arms about him under the covers. ‘Try to relax. Try counting pheasants!’

  ‘Kate!’

  Suddenly the telephone rang out. ‘I don’t believe it!’ grumbled Nick. ‘Whose turn is it this time?’

  Kate kicked him under the sheets. ‘You’re awake, you go-‘

  ‘Not another burglary or shopbreaking, I hope!’ He put on a dressing gown and struggled downstairs in the chill of the night to answer the call.

  ‘Aidensfield Police.’ His tired voice was little more than a croak.

  ‘It’s Helen Rawlings.’ She sounded tearful and distraught. ‘Can Dr Rowan come straight away, it’s urgent, it’s Susan.’

  ‘Susan?’

  ‘She’s bleeding, Mr Rowan, it’s terrible … please help us.’

  ‘She’ll come straight away,’ Nick reassured Helen, I’ll drive her over.’

  Kate told Nick she could manage on her own, but he insisted on driving her to the remote keeper’s cottage. While she dressed and decided what to take with her, Nick rushed into some old clothes and got the car out of the garage. At the back of his own mind was the thought that he’d be driving through the village and the countryside in the early hours of the morning and so, if there were any villains abroad, he might just come across them. But the journey to the Rawlings’s cottage was uneventful.

  When they arrived, Matt Rawlings rushed out to meet them. ‘Thank God!’ he breathed. ‘Come in, Doctor, she’s in a terrible state, she won’t let us near her.’

  Leading Kate inside, Matt hurried up the stairs with Helen hard on his heels. Nick remained in the living room where a fire was smouldering in the grate. He picked up a log which lay in the hearth and tossed it on to the embers as Matt’s pale-faced son, Chris, appeared in the doorway, looking terrified. As soon as he saw the policeman in the room, however, he turned around and went back upstairs.

  Helen Rawlings led Kate into Susan’s room. The bedside light was burning and the girl lay in bed, her hands gripping the top of the sheets which were pulled up to her chin. The expression on Susan’s white face was one of abject terror and she was groaning with pain. She looked, thought Kate, like a young girl in fear of her life and it was obvious that a swift physical examination was necessary.

  ‘Could you wait downstairs, please?’ she asked the anxious parents. Helen and Matt closed the door. Kate heard them descending the stairs, and Matt’s voice saying, ‘Chris, you’d better come down, the doctor’s here.’

  Kate turned her attention to Susan whose dark eyes stared at her from the bed. ‘Susan, I must examine you,’ she said gently. ‘No, I don’t want anybody to touch me, go away.’ ‘Susan, your mother said you were bleeding …’ ‘I went to the loo, it was just a very heavy period …’

  ‘I think not. Your mother would know if it was just a heavy period, so come along, let go of those sheets and let me look at you,’ and Kate went forward to prise the girl’s fingers away.

  ‘No, please, you mustn’t …’ but the voice was weak as Kate gently released the sheets and turned them down. Underneath there was a mass of bloodstained sheets, cloths and clothing. Then Kate found the source of the blood.

  Susan was weeping now. ‘She said it would be nothing, she said it would be all right, that it wouldn’t hurt …’

  Kate looked at her. ‘You’ve had an abortion, haven’t you, Susan?’

  The girl nodded, her eyes showing that she was a very, very frightened young woman. Kate remained calm, knowing she must reassure Susan that help was on hand. She returned the bedclothes to their former position and said, ‘You need to go to hospital. I’m going to ring for the ambulance.’

  As she went downstairs to make the call, the sound of Susan’s uncontrollable sobbing followed her.

  ‘Can I use your telephone?’ Kate addressed the worried family, I need an ambulance, we must get her to hospital without delay. She’s haemorrhaging badly.’

  Within the hour, Susan was in Ashfordly General Hospital on a blood drip and was being wheeled into a ward for further examination. A doctor and a nurse were in attendance; Kate had a quiet word with them before returning to Susan’s parents in the waiting room. Chris had not come with them, there being no room in Nick’s car for anyone else.

  ‘She’s in good hands now,’ she told Matt and Helen. ‘She’s on her way to the theatre for an operation, an emergency operation, that is. The surgeon is already here, waiting. She’ll get prompt attention and she’ll be all right, although she has lost a lot of blood.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ said Matt. ‘What’s happened to her? Is it her appendix or something that’s burst? That stomach trouble she was having …’

  ‘No,’ said Kate, knowing they must be told the truth. ‘She’s had an abortion, Matt. And it’s gone wrong. Very badly wrong.’

  ‘Abortion?’ he whispered. ‘My Susan’s had an abortion? Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, there’s no doubt about it. I’m sorry.’ Kate looked at Helen. She must have guessed what had caused such a severe flow of blood. Susan’s mother sat with her head bowed, weeping silently into her hands.

  ‘But she’s never had a boyfriend, Doctor, we were so careful with her, she never stayed out late.’

  ‘Staying out late isn’t all that’s needed to get pregnant, Matt. Now look, she’s going to need all the love, help and sympathy you can muster. She needs you both now, more than ever in her life before, so please don’t reject her. The baby’s gone, you might want to know that, but it’s going to take Susan a long time to get over this.’

  Helen looked at Kate through her tears, ‘Oh, I can’t believe this … but thank you, Doctor, we’ll take care of her, we love her so much, don’t we, Matt?’

  ‘Aye,’ was all the bluff gamekeeper could say.

  Because unlawful abortion was a serious criminal offence, Nick was obliged to inform his superiors, and so next morning, his first duty was to motor to Ashfordly Police Station. Sergeant Blaketon was in his office when Nick entered.

  ‘Good morning, Rowan, I take it you’ve come to inform me that you have cleared up the Aidensfield crime wave and arrested all the guilty parties?’

  ‘No, Sergeant, I’ve come to report another crime, much more serious.’

  ‘I don’t believe this! What is it this time?’

  ‘Abortion, Sergeant. Susan Rawlings, Matt Rawlings’s daughter, she’s only seventeen. She’s had an unlawful abortion. She’s in hospital.’

  ‘You have got your hands full, haven’t you, Rowan? So who carried out the abortion?’

  ‘I don’t know yet, the girl’s not in a fit state to be interviewed. She was taken into Casualty last night.’

  ‘Right, well, this is serious stuff, Rowan, and don’t forget the ACC’s got his eyes on this section. He never called while he was staying with His Lordship but I heard, on the grapevine, that he does intend to visit us.’

  ‘I’m sure he will appreciate our efforts, Sergeant.’

  ‘Yes, but I do not want an illegal abortion as well as other unsolved crimes to ruin my statistics. So find the boyfriend, start with him. Then I want you to see that girl and get her to name the abortionist. We’ll have to stop the woman, Rowan, before she does it again.’

  ‘Her parents say she never had a boyfriend, Sergeant.’

  ‘Then how did she get pregnant, Rowan? You’re not telling me we’ve got a rape as well, are you? If that lass got herself pregnant, she must have had a boyfriend. So find him and ask him what he knows. And get the girl interviewed the minute she’s fit to talk. This is a DPP job, you know, all abortion prosecutions must be reported to the Director of Public Prosecutions, so we need this one tidied up and a proper and thorough investigation made, Rowan. So get to it.’

  ‘Very good, Sergeant.’

  ‘Oh, and Rowan?’

  ‘Yes, Sergeant?’

  ‘There is one crime you can forget. Lord Ashfordly called in late yesterday. We are to ignore the stolen pheasants. He wants us to overlook the crime and says he will not support any prosecution we might bring.’

  ‘He can’t do that, Sergeant! What’s he playing at?’

  ‘He says all his guests went home with their pheasants. He managed to secure sufficient by various means, and he insists there is nothing more to be done.’

  Nick looked shocked. ‘But Sergeant, a crime was committed and it’s our job to apprehend the person or persons responsible.’