The Game of Shepherd and Dawse

by William Shepherd

  “I gotta give it to you, kiddo. I’d have to get up awfully early in the morning to catch you out, hey”?

  They both smiled at each other with mutual appreciation. They had both enjoyed the journey of Shepherd Wood. Joe enjoyed narrating it and Charlie enjoyed listening to it. Charlie was in no rush now to hear the end. He wanted to savour the experience for a while longer. So they both put the book aside for a special day when ‘The Game of Shepherd and Dawse’ would be complete.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  SALLY SOUR MAKES MISCHIEF

  “Keep your friends close and your enemies even closer.” ~ Joe Sadsoul

  Sally Sour was on the prowl again.

  “Cooee! Home Help”! She called through the letter box.

  “Just a second”, Joe called back.

  Joe’s legs were so bad that day that for the first time ever he was actually glad to see her. Sally was quite shocked to see Joe using a Zimmer frame but at the same time it gave her a kind of glow. She preferred her old people to be fragile so she could lord it over them. She fussed and faffed about doing the things Joe had asked her to do, while making a bit of a hash of it at the same time. Then she sat down for a cup of tea with him. This wasn’t because she wanted to have a good old chinwag with Joe or to give him some company but because she smelled an opportunity in the offing.

  Her style of conversation was much more cordial this day than her usual patronising tone and she kept probing Joe about his general health and welfare. Any stranger would have thought she was the most caring person in the world, but Joe was no stranger and he was no fool either. It was the sudden change in sour Sally's caring attitude that made him feel uneasy because life had taught Joe that when people start to act out of character like this, it meant they were after something. And in this moment, Sally continued on her fishing expedition to find out all she could.

  “I suspect you get very tired – what, with having to keep up this big house and all. Not to mention all of the baby sitting you do for young Charlie. That Angela should know better than to burden someone of your age with her troubles”. Sally's tone implied the only thing she cared about was Joe’s welfare.

  Joe ignored the comment, asking her to close the door quietly on her way out, before he put on the television for himself.

  Sally hovered briefly in the doorway but Joe wasn’t about to continue the conversation, so she left without saying anything else while giving the door a bit more of a slam than it needed.

  That evening Joe couldn’t help pondering Sally's behaviour. One valuable lesson he’d learned over the years was to judge a person by what they did and not by what they said. After much thought Joe still couldn’t quite get to the bottom of what she was up to so, he decided to let the situation play out until more clarity was available.

  Over the next week, Sally Sour made sure she popped in to see Joe every day. While her charm offensive became just that little bit more suspicious to Joe, he still let her in since he wanted to know more what her twisted soul was planning. By the seventh day, sour Sally's cunning little plan would burst into bloom and it was amazing how quickly she became so above her station, once she thought she had all the pieces of her plan in place. On this day, Sally didn't bother with her usual bleach down the toilet and messing up of Joe's house. Instead, she headed straight for the kitchen to make them both a cup of tea. Once prepared, she invited Joe to come sit at his table and join her.

  “I’m not going to beat around the bush, Joe”, Sally began briskly. “You're not going to want to hear what I have to say, but I feel something needs to be done about your ill health.” Sally decidedly avoided eye contact with Joe and instead stared off toward his dustbin, as if trying to read invisible notes from her prepared speech.

  “You clearly can’t manage this big house now”, Sally barged on, “and I’m about the only person who truly cares about your welfare”, she paused nervously, “And you, of course, Joooe”.

  Just as she said his name, she reached out and gently touched her hand to Joe’s, which was resting on the table. Unfortunately for Sally, she couldn’t seem to muster up the small crocodile tear she had more easily produced each time she’d practiced her words earlier in the week. It had added such effect.

  Over the past week, Joe had been playing up his age and infirmities in order to get a better idea of what she might be planning. Now he knew.

  Sally paused to sip her tea and regain her focus on the dustbin. Then she continued. “I think it’s about time you got yourself into an old people’s home. You clearly can’t manage on your own”. Still hoping to work up a tear or two, she continued. “I worry about you, Joe. I really do. I worried so much about you this last week, I came up with an idea. I think I can help you. You see, if you sign the house over to me, the council won’t be able to take…”

  Before she could finish, Joe jumped out of his chair, almost knocking his teacup over, and thundered at her. “How dare you, woman! Who the hell do you think you are? You come in here and put a bit of bleach down the toilet and think I’m going to sign my house over to you? You, of all people, so that your tatty little church can get your hands on it. There’s a few more years left in me yet, you vile creature, so get the heck out and don’t come back or I’ll report you to the council, myself”!

  Sally Sour was stunned and momentarily speechless. She had run this scenario over in her head dozens of times and her end result was always so different. In her head, it had always ended with Joe saying she was right and that it was for the best. In her imagination, Joe would graciously entrust her to find a place for him to stay and to deal with his finances, of course.

  “Didn’t you hear me, you nasty piece of work”? Joe screamed. “If you’re not out of this house in two seconds flat, you’ll be getting this vile cup of tea you just made right in your face. Now piss off”!

  Sally flustered and blustered her way out of the house, calling Joe all the names under the sun she had in her head. She had well and truly over-played her hand this time, and she knew it. Although Joe was certainly angry, he was consoled by the fact that he would never see her again. It was unusual for Joe to swear, as he was a real gentleman. But even gentlemen have their limits.

  Making her way down the front walk and onto Shepherd Road, Sally Sour was now in a state of panic.

  “What if this all gets blown out of proportion”? She asked herself. “My good name and all the good work I do would be ruined. What about my church? What would they think? I was only trying to help, but people will see it all the wrong way. Well, I’m not going to be destroyed by some evil old man”, she reasoned.

  Quickly regaining some of her composure, Sally decided to stop Joe’s evil game before any damage could be done to her fine reputation and to fight fire with fire. It didn’t take long for ego to kick in and Sally's fear of the situation quickly turned to retribution and vengeance.

  Although Joe was pretty mad, he hadn’t expected anything less from sour Sally. Instead he brushed the incident aside, pleased with the fact he’d never have to see her ugly mug again. He never spoke to anyone about the incident.

  It took Sally Sour three hours to go through the many bags of jumble sale clothes she had in her house, while setting aside everything she thought might be fitting for young Nettie. (She was on a mission of God, you know.) She put a few items in a carrier bag and, for good measure, she added an out-of-date pack of penguins biscuits that she’d picked up in the supermarket. She sprayed herself generously with lily-of-the-valley, her trademark godly scent, and made her way around to Tracey’s house.

  Tracey heard the knock and rolled her eyes when she saw who it was. She took a deep breath and opened the door. “Good morning, Ms Sour. What can I do for you”?

  “Good morning, Tracey, I’ve bought around some bits and bobs for young Nettie”.

  The look on Tracey’s face was one of ‘Oh God, not more jumble clothes’! She had only just finished clearing out the last lot. Tracey had the distinct feeling that Sa
lly liked to use her as a dumping ground for all the clothes she couldn't get rid of otherwise – the outdated ones with holes or stains or buttons missing. Tracey only accepted them to be polite, knowing she and Nettie could never use such scraps – except as cleaning rags or patches or perhaps for the odd button that needed replacing.

  Sensing this, Sally quickly chipped in, “I bought them for one of my nieces but she never wore them”.

  “Of course”, said Tracey, weighing the benefit of allowing Sally in. If the stuff was new, it might be worth it. “Come on in then, I’ll put the kettle on”.

  “I’ve taken all the tags off for you, so they’re all good to go", Sally said to seemingly cover her tracks.

  As Sally looked around the house, she noticed a few things had changed. The place looked tidier than usual and there were a couple of photos of Nettie on the shelf. Based on this, conniving Sally tried to gauge where Tracey was coming from.

  “So how is young Nettie doing”?

  Grateful that someone was taking an interest in Nettie, Tracey replied, “She’s doing really well. I’m really pleased with her. The bed wetting has stopped and I’m a lot calmer these days, which must help. Yeah, I’d say we’re getting on really well”. Tracey poured herself a cup of tea and then handed one to Sally.

  “That's so wonderful to hear, Tracey”, Sally replied with almost a crocodile tear in her eye. “I’m so glad to hear that. You two have had your fair share of bad luck now, haven’t you”?

  “Yes”, Tracey replied and took a sip of her tea. “Life’s not easy, is it? But you do your best”.

  The polite and somewhat stilted conversation went on like this for some time and through several cups of tea. Sally continued stroking Tracey’s feelings – and damn near caressed them at times. At least this made a pleasant change to her usual rant about sparing the rod and spoiling the child. Tracey hoped she didn't want any more tea, as she was nearly out. Then Sally changed the conversation entirely.

  “What do you think of Mr Sadsoul”?

  She said it in a way that allowed the conversation to go either way: to cover the option of Tracey coming back to say he was a horrible old man, or to say he was a really lovely old chap. However, the answer that came back wasn’t the one Sally was hoping for, nor expected.

  “He's a really nice man. In fact, I’ve had a couple of really good chats with him lately”.

  Up until the surprise party they threw for Nettie, Tracey had imagined Joe to be the judgemental type, probably because of the way he held himself and the fact that he was a real no-nonsense kind of guy. Yet at the party, she had had a long chat with him and discovered he was anything but judgemental. He’d given her great advice on how to improve her relationship with Nettie and she had felt really grateful for it.

  “Well, I’m glad you said that, Tracey, because I feel the same way about Joe”, Sally said, trying to regain her sense of control of the conversation. “I’ve become quite close to him since doing his Home Help over the past year or so but I’m really starting to get concerned for his health of late”.

  Tracey was quite surprised at this. “Really? Why?! What’s the matter with him”?

  “Well...I really shouldn’t be telling you this”, Sally said as she set her teacup on the table and leaned in toward Tracey, with just the right amount of pause. “Because of patient confidentiality and all...but seeing it’s you, Tracey, I’ll make this one exception”.

  Tracey felt flattered and honoured at the idea of being trusted with such private information. It made her feel important. Even Tracey's body language changed and she too leaned in, eagerly waiting for Sally to continue. Sally could tell she had Tracey right where she wanted her and poised to move in for the kill.

  “Joe's in terrrrible pain, but he won’t tell anyone about it”. Sally paused and waited for her reaction.

  “Oh, my goodness”! Exclaimed Tracey, genuinely concerned about her new found friend. “I should go straight around and make sure he’s all right”.

  “No”! Sally interrupted, in a knee-jerk fashion. “I mean...no, Tracey, you mustn’t”, Sally said more calmly. “You’ll get me in a bucketful of trouble if you do. You know how proud Joe is. He'd hate for anyone to go round there and start fussing over him”.

  Tracey thought for a moment. “I'm sure you're right, Sally. Sorry, I didn’t think of that. I do want to do something for him though...” Tracey trailed off.

  “Well, that’s partly the reason why I’m here, my dear. You see, I’m really starting to get concerned for his health, being out in all weathers on that chair of his. The poor soul’s going to end up catching pneumonia if he’s not careful. It’s just not right for someone of his age”, Sally confidently went on. “I’ve tried talking to him but he won’t have it. He thinks he’s going to let everyone down”, she said in an overly sad tone of voice, “especially the children”.

  Sally knew when she tacked on this last morsel about the children that Tracey would be putty in her hand.

  “Ahh, bless him.” Tracey's body language relaxed and she sat back in her chair. “So, what do you think we can do”? She asked, swallowing Sally's bait: hook, line and sinker.

  Sally pulled a two sheet document out of her bag. “Well, Tracey, I've laid awake many nights lately thinking about this. I know it’s a long-shot, but this might just work.” She then fumbled around slowly in her bag to pull out a pen. “I believe if we write a letter to the council and have a few of us in the neighborhood sign it, we could say that due to health and safety reasons – and with Joe taking up half the pavement with his chair and all – the local residents thought that it be a good idea if he just watched the road from his window”.

  Sally knew this would never work, as there was no vantage point from inside Joe's house. Tracey didn’t realise this though and merely nodded.

  Sally's evil confidence grew when she saw how easily her plan here was falling into place, so she added, “You know how health and safety mad the council has become of late. Maybe that isn’t a bad thing”, she trailed off, slowly stirring another sugar into her tea and waiting for Tracey to absorb her lies.

  Now Sally’s voice took on an evangelical and syrupy tone. “Here’s the form I’ve prepared. I’ve already gotten promises from several others who've agreed to sign, but you’ll be pleased to know that you’ll be the very first to do so”. Sally was inwardly crowing. ‘Gotcha’! She thought.

  The form was in two parts with the top sheet explaining about the health and safety concerns and the bottom sheet left blank with spaces for a few signatures. Sally quickly handed Tracey a pen, but Tracey felt strangely uncomfortable with what she was about to do, even though it seemed to be the right thing. Sally picked up on her hesitation and used the best weapon she had left in her arsenal.

  “Of course, what I’m really concerned about is how young Nettie would take it if Joe caught pneumonia and died. I know all the children are so very fond of him”.

  That’s all it took. Tracey’s new found love for her daughter made what Sally said strike a chord and her decision was made. After promising herself to be a better mother, Tracey didn’t want to do anything that would upset Nettie, so she promptly signed the form.

  “Right, that’s that then”, said Sally, as she polished off the rest of her tea in a single crass gulp. She hurriedly folded her papers and stuffed them into her bag. She then stood up, gave Tracey a pretentious rub on the arm and thanked her for her support.

  “Okay, love. Must dash, God’s work is never done, you know, and I am but an instrument of Him. See you again soon. Ta taa”.

  And with this, Sally made her way to and out the front door. It would be another week until the true horror of what Tracey had done would come to light.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  SALLY DRIVES IN THE COFFIN NAILS

  “Give me a sinner to a saint, any day”.

  ~ Shirley (council worker)

  The conversation that Sally Sour had with Shirley at the council boro
ugh offices would be entirely different from the one she had with Tracey Furnella, and of a totally different flavour you could say. David Pru had worked at the council for just over fifteen years and had made a steady climb to the top of the department he worked in. He was suited to council life. He was extremely thorough in what he did and had gained a good reputation for being able to make sensible decisions on really tricky matters. There had been a massive increase in litigation cases against the council in recent times due to the rise in the compensation culture. David had learnt to side step quite a few litigation land mines, earning him the nickname of ‘The Man from the Pru’.

  Shirley popped her head around David’s door. “Have you got two minutes David”? She asked. “We’ve got a bit of an issue”.

  “Can it wait”? Replied David in an apologetic way.

  “Not really. We could have an explosive one here”, Shirley answered, with a look of concern on her face.