‘They tasted all right to me,’ Jack said.

  ‘And I had none, neither did Mum,’ said Gillian, who was now sitting in a pew close to her father.

  ‘But I had some of the other grub too, samples, little fancy bits of this and that,’ said Jack.

  ‘Look, Mr Siddons,’ said Kate, if any of that food is suspect, you must not give it to your guests. Food poisoning can kill people with weak dispositions - old people for example. So, I’m sorry but you can’t use any of it.’

  ‘But it’s all here, Dr Rowan, in containers and freezers, all ready for tomorrow … There’s more to come in the morning, fresh stuff, salads and things.’

  ‘Sorry, Jack, but you can’t risk giving poisoned food to a large group of people. The result could be devastating.’

  ‘It’ll be those prawns, luv,’ said Nick to Kate. ‘I’ll bet Claude has got them on the cheap …’

  ‘There isn’t time to have all the items of food analysed, Nick, not before the wedding. We can’t risk it, even if it was those prawns.’

  ‘I’ll have Greengrass’s guts for garters!’ snarled Siddons. ‘But he wouldn’t try to poison me, would he?’

  Nick shook his head. ‘No, that’s not his game, Jack.’

  ‘But, I mean, with all these other things, the burglary, the flowers and now this, it does look as if somebody’s out to get me, doesn’t it? I mean, somebody could have poisoned those prawns, or that other food, and got Claude or the caterers to give it to me …’ ‘Oh, Dad,’ Gillian said, ‘I am sorry, I know you’ve tried to make it a lovely day tomorrow, but so much is going wrong …’

  At the sound of her voice, he perked up and said, ‘And it’s going to be a lovely day tomorrow, Gillian. You do want to marry Richard, don’t you? Here, in this church, before your friends and family?’

  ‘Yes, I do, but I’m so worried something else might go wrong, there’s been so much trouble.’

  ‘Is that what’s been bothering you, lass?’ he asked her. She nodded.

  Nick recognised the signs. ‘Gillian, do you know who’s behind all this? Has somebody been pestering you?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Not pestering me … but …’

  ‘I know!’ snarled Jack. ‘It’ll be that Kevin Begg, he always did follow you round, and he’s back, isn’t he? He was rotten right through, that lad, I saw through him even if the others didn’t. Right sweet on our Gillian, he was, till he went away. And now he’s back for his granny’s funeral …’

  ‘Kevin? You mean he might have been doing all these things, Gillian?’ said Nick.

  ‘He wanted to stop the wedding,’ she said quietly. ‘I told him it was no good, that I love Richard and that I was marrying him. But Kevin wanted me to call it off, he kept on about the old days, when we were children.’

  ‘I never did trust him, it was his eyes,’ said Jack.

  ‘We were real good friends,’ said Gillian. ‘But that was a long time ago. It’s over now, I don’t love him and there’s no question of me wanting him, not now. I wondered if it might be him when the dog didn’t bark during the

  burglary. He never ever barked at Kevin when we were little. He’s an old dog and they used to go everywhere together.’

  ‘Thanks, Gillian,’ said Nick. ‘I’ll go and have words with him. There’s no time like the present, as they say. I’ll bet he’s in the pub.’

  ‘And when we get this floor cleaned up,’ said Kate, ‘you come to the surgery, Jack, and I’ll give you one of my magic potions, and tomorrow you’ll be as right as rain!’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Jack, turning a curious shade of green.

  Nick was right. Kevin Begg was in the Aidensfield Arms and although he was not drunk, he had had sufficient to make him tottery on his feet.

  ‘Come on, Kevin,’ Nick said gently, ‘you’re going home.’

  ‘You’re not arresting me, are you, Constable?’ The young man put on a show of bravado for the benefit of the regulars. ‘Arresting me for breaking into Jack Siddons’s house?’

  ‘I want to talk to you about that, outside,’ said Nick. ‘Come along, sunshine, no trouble.’

  Outside, away from the glances of the regulars and with the benefit of the fresh air, Kevin Begg sobered up slightly. Nick took his elbow and began to steer him along the street towards the lane which led to Badger Cottage.

  ‘So what are your plans now, Kevin?’

  ‘Finish off here, tidy up the cottage, then go back to Birmingham. There’s nothing here for me, not now.’

  ‘You thought of staying, did you?’

  ‘For a time, yes. I used to live here, you know, at Clough Farm with my granny. When I was a lad …’

  “That was when you fell in love with Gillian, was it?’ Nick said.

  ‘I’ve always loved that girl, Mr Rowan. I thought she loved me, I though she might have waited for me.’ ‘But she’s marrying someone else, eh?’ He nodded morosely.

  ‘And how did you feel about that? Upset enough to try and poison her father?’

  ‘Poison him? Jack Siddons? I never tried to poison him, Mr Rowan, believe me!’

  Having terrified him with the story of the poisoned food, Nick said, ‘All right, so what about the other troubles? The breakin, the flowers in church…’

  ‘I know nothing about them, Mr Rowan. I wouldn’t do that, I wouldn’t harm Gillian!’

  ‘But you might hope to have the wedding postponed, just a little, just enough for you to try and win her back, eh?’

  ‘Mr Rowan, I didn’t come here for that, I came for my grandmother’s funeral!’

  ‘And when you got here, there was another shock, eh? Gillian was getting married. Look, I can arrest you on suspicion of that burglary right now, and that means I can take your fingerprints. Suppose your fingerprints match some we found on the wedding presents that were dumped in the grounds of the farm, eh? I reckon they might tell us a lot, don’t you? And those vases in church? Somebody lifted them up and tipped out the flowers,

  Kevin, and left very useful sets of fingerprints behind. So, if it was you, perhaps you might like to tell me about it?’

  They were outside Mary’s cottage now and Begg spoke quietly. ‘You’d better come in, Constable. I’ve been a real fool, a real idiot. I didn’t want to spoil Gillian’s day, honest, I just wanted her to consider me, after all this time.’

  So Kevin Begg admitted to Nick that he had broken into the house to remove the wedding presents, and had entered the church to destroy the flower arrangements, merely in the vain hope of delaying the wedding. He said he’d never had any intention of stealing the presents and in fact, had left them so that they would quickly be recovered. The farm dog, old Ben, hadn’t barked at him because Kevin had taken it a toffee, a treat he used to give it years ago.

  ‘I’ll pay for any damage,’ he offered. ‘I’ll pay for the flowers to be replaced, it’s the least I can do.’

  ‘I’ll have to report this to my superiors,’ said Nick. ‘Strictly, I ought to arrest you and charge you with burglary, but I accept you had no intention of stealing the presents.’

  ‘I’m not leaving yet, I want to see Gillian get married, Mr Rowan. I’m going to apologise to her parents, and to her; I know there’s no place for me in her life, and when the wedding’s over, I’ll go. The cottage can be used by somebody else. I’ve been a bloody fool, I don’t know what came over me.’

  Nick decided that an arrest would be somewhat heavy-handed, and besides, even if he did arrest Begg, he’d be

  released on bail pending further enquiries. So Nick would delay his official response until after the wedding. Rightly or wrongly, that was his decision.

  As he walked away from the cottage, he encountered Claude Jeremiah Greengrass stumbling home from the Aidensfield Arms.

  ‘I didn’t see you when I was in there a few minutes ago, Claude.’ Nick said, watching the old rogue sober up with astonishing speed.

  ‘Aye, well, I saw you, Constable Rowan. You need keen eyes to do my job, you know. Alertness, the ability to merge into the background.’

  ‘So where’s your mate, then? The little chap with the fancy Rover?’

  ‘Just gone, Constable Rowan, he’s got Ashfordly Point-to-Point to cater for and he’s set off early, to get himself parked in a good position, you see.’

  ‘I hear he supplied some prawns for Gillian’s wedding?’

  ‘Aye, a bargain, they were. Straight from the North Sea, fresh as shrimps and tasty as crabs they were.’

  ‘They were rotten, they’d gone off. They made Jack ill and he’s had to throw out all the food he’d got organised for the wedding. He’s after your guts, Claude, and the authorities will be investigating a case of food poisoning. So we’ll want to have words with your pal, at the point-to-point or wherever he’s gone. And we might ask him a few questions about some stolen seafood, we might just learn that he and his catering emporium happened to be in the vicinity when certain lorryloads of perishables were nicked, eh, Claude? And that means we might come back to you to have you arrested for receiving stolen property, doesn’t it?’

  Claude blinked in consternation. ‘Well, I hardly know the chap, really, Mr Rowan. I mean, it was twenty years ago …’

  ‘I thought you’d been comrades in arms, I thought you and him had made the world a safer place for the likes of me, Claude, by your bravery and selfless sacrifice. I thought you were mates of old … so you said.’

  ‘You’re not serious, about Jack being poisoned, are you, Mr Rowan?’

  ‘Very serious, Claude. In fact, you can ask him yourself, he’s just coming out of the church on his way to Kate’s surgery …’

  ‘No, well, I might just get away home for a quiet night!’

  Kevin Begg did remain for the wedding and in fact was instrumental in preventing Walter Pettigrew from dumping a load of manure in the place the official cars would occupy outside the church. Whether or not Walter’s intention was malicious or whether he really was bringing a load of manure for the vicar was never determined, but it was Kevin who intervened as he passed the church on his way to the pub. His parting words were: ‘Walter, this is Gillian’s day, forget your feud with her father. This is nothing to do with Jack Siddons, this is Gillian’s wedding.’

  Soon news of the incident spread though the village and was put to Sergeant Blaketon by Nick. Nonetheless, Kevin would have to be brought to the police station and bailed to appear at a later date in Ashfordly Magistrates’ Court on two charges, one of burglary and one of malicious damage. However, Blaketon felt sure that, once the full circumstances had been explained to the magistrates, Kevin would escape with perhaps a conditional discharge. To date, he had no criminal record. Kevin agreed to this course of action, and, after the wedding, he was taken to Ashfordly Police Station and bailed to appear at Ashfordly Magistrates’ Court on a date to be determined.

  After all his trials, Jack Siddons did see his daughter married in a splendid manner. She looked radiant, as only a happy bride can, and he looked every inch the proud father. Afterwards, the reception was superb, even if the food had been prepared in an almighty rush.

  ‘Next time you want me to cater for a wedding,’ said George Ward of the Aidensfield Arms, ‘I’d appreciate a bit more warning!’

  ‘Next time there’s a wedding in this family, George, you’ll get it!’ smiled Jack Siddons.

  ‘I’ll tell you summat, Jack,’ said George as they drank a brandy to the health of the bride. ‘That was a wedding Aidensfield will remember for a long, long time.’

  ‘Me an’ all!’ smiled Jack ruefully. ‘Another brandy?’

  ‘Aye, why not, you’re paying!’ chuckled George.

  In the following months, the life of Aidensfield settled down to a period of tranquillity. Nick was able to consolidate his position as the village constable and found that the people trusted him and respected him. Even Sergeant Blaketon spent less time supervising him than hitherto and the bluff sergeant allowed him to administer his rural beat in the way Nick felt best. Although he was expected to enforce the law when required, he was also regarded by the public as a humane policeman, willing to help those less fortunate than himself if the occasion demanded. Old people asked him for advice on the completion of official forms, and householders came to him for guidance on crime prevention around the home. Even some youngsters approached him for tips on how to pass their driving test or for an explanation on the law on drinking in public houses and hotels. And Nick would always be happy to help to them, whoever they were.

  Kate was also finding herself welcomed into more homes - the ailing Dr Ferrenby was passing more work to her and asking her to visit those of his patients with whom he found it difficult to deal due to their condition. In many cases, Kate was able to prescribe up-to-the-minute medicines or treatment and her success rate meant that her stature was rising too. To her satisfaction she found that by working this vast moorland practice she was expanding her experience while winning the trust of many of the old doctor’s patients.

  One of Kate’s innovations was to organise fitness classes in the village hall. These were intended for retired people, men and women, who would normally have little contact with others beyond the confines of their own homes. At first, Kate had found them very shy about attending such a class, but when she explained that they did not have to strip to their underwear or dress up in leotards, some decided to come along ‘just to see what’s going on’.

  Gradually, her class expanded, with husbands and wives, friends and relations, all walking to the village hall to partake in very gentle, but very stimulating exercise with pleasant music in the background. In no time, new friendships were formed, old feuds were forgotton and a spirit of comradeship was created at the keep fit sessions. There were regular rest periods during the programme which ran from 10.30 until 11.30 every Wednesday morning, with coffee and biscuits to follow. The sessions became more of a social gathering than a gymnastic display, but Kate realised that their value lay in the fact that so many of these people, all in their late sixties or seventies, actually walked to the village hall and then remained to chat and laugh over coffee. That alone was of enormous benefit to them; the exercises were something of a bonus.

  In time, Kate grew to know those who were regular attenders - there was dear old Mrs Paxton with her corns, Mr Wright who performed his exercises with a pipe in his mouth, Miss Houlston who blushed if she had to exercise while standing next to Mr Field, and Mr Clark who clearly had a crush on old Mrs Cook. But one lady seemed to sparkle more than the others. In her mid seventies, a neat but rather small figure with beautifully kept grey hair, spectacles and somewhat old-fashioned clothes, she was always cheerful and full of fun, rather like a cheeky sparrow in many respects, and during the coffee breaks she had her group in fits of laughter.

  She was the life and soul of the gathering, and when she walked across the floor, her tiny feet almost twinkled like those of a fairy dancer. Surprisingly fit and agile, the range of exercises were never a hardship for her. Kate discovered that her name was Jane Thompson, and that she lived in Moorview Cottage, high above the village. The beautifully positioned house overlooked the railway line and enjoyed stunning views across Aidensfield and district. From there, Jane walked miles during the week, coming into the village for her shopping or venturing down to Aidensfield to catch a bus to Ashfordly for a hair-do or to buy her clothes. Jane had been widowed about a year earlier but kept herself busy at home with her greenhouse and gardening.

  One morning, Jane’s daughter, a Mrs Jennifer Bradshaw, came into the hall with her mother. They were late and the old folks were just having a breather.

  Jennifer apologised to Kate. ‘Sorry, Dr Rowan, are we very late?’

  ‘No, we’ve only been going a while, we’re just having a rest. Come in.’

  Jennifer helped her mother off with her heavy overcoat, but the old lady snapped, I can manage, our Jennifer. I’m not senile, you know!’ Jane scurried off to the cloakroom to dispose of her coat and tidy her hair.

  ‘I brought her this morning because I wanted a word with you, Doctor.’

  ‘Yes, of course, any time.’

  ‘I thought if I came at the end of this morning’s session, when they’re having their coffee and biscuits, we might have a chat? I don’t want Mother to overhear us.’

  ‘All right,’ agreed Kate. ‘That will be a good time. Your mum will be in the thick of them, telling them jokes and being the life and soul of the party as usual!’

  And so the arrangement was made. Jennifer Bradshaw, a confident woman in her forties, arrived shortly before the end of that morning’s class, to see her mother sitting among the others, telling them stories and making them laugh, as lively and full of fun as ever. Kate obtained a coffee and some biscuits for Jennifer and they adjourned to a quiet corner of the hall.

  ‘So,’ smiled Kate, ‘what is it, Jennifer?’

  ‘It’s Mother,’ she said, ‘I’m worried about her health, she’s not the same as she was.’

  ‘She is getting older, and the loss of your father must have had some effect, Jennifer. I think she’s a remarkable lady, very fit for her age both mentally and physically.’

  ‘It’s the mental aspect that I’m concerned about.’ Jennifer fiddled with the cup instead of drinking her coffee. ‘You see, once or twice, I’ve heard her talking to Dad; when she’s alone in her greenhouse, for example, she’ll be chatting away to him as if he’s still alive, telling him about her day, about the plants she’s growing, and passing on local gossip.’

  Kate smiled reassuringly, ‘That’s quite normal,’ she said, it’s a way of coping; after a lifetime together, the loss of a partner is a tremendous shock.’

  ‘I know she suffered when Dad died. They were very close and that cottage is very remote; they sometimes went days without seeing another person.’

  ‘But your mum does get into the village, and she does enjoy the company of other people.’ Kate glanced across to where Jane was telling some bawdy story, ‘I think she copes remarkably well, and if I were you, I shouldn’t worry too much about her chats with your father. Lots of widows and widowers do that.’ ‘There’s more, Doctor,’ said Jennifer, still fiddling with her coffee cup. ‘I think she’s getting confused. She says she’s getting funny telephone calls late at night.’ ‘Funny? You mean obscene?’