She Was a Pretty Girl: A spy story

by S G Read

  As she did not know him, there was no banter. She just told him how much it all came to and he paid it. For his purchases he gained nothing but a palatable bottle of wine. He thought about it, he needed to be there when the postman called, just in case he brought the letters there for Clementine to collect. The same could be said for any small village shop in the area and he decided to drive farther afield for inspiration. He returned to the shop for a map of the area and drove off, there was no point in asking about other shops as this one carried many lines.

  He drove and drove, marking off roads when he had driven down them and not found a shop. Out here shops were few and far between. If a shop had a post office when he found it he drove straight by and by a process of elimination he ended up at a little shop run by one little old lady.

  He walked in and the bell went ting. If Clementine was using it as a drop, she would have spun a tale designed to make sure the old lady kept very quiet about it. She could imagine the letters dropped off by the local postie, passed on to Clementine in a carrier bag, or a brown paper bag.

  He smiled when he thought about it and wondered what the story was. A jealous husband who was likely to kill her and her new husband and she had to hide. An abusive father who they were hiding from?

  ‘You look happy.’ The old lady declared.

  ‘I am just glad to be on holiday, where my time is my own young lady.’ John replied.

  ‘I think young is stretching it.’ The shopkeeper replied.

  ‘To my mind, you are as young as you feel and you look like you feel very young to me.’ John explained.

  ‘I know blarney when I hear it.’ The shopkeeper retorted. ‘But a little now and then goes a long way.’

  He thought deeply as he browsed in the shop for something to buy. There was no way he could mention anything about his purpose here as it would make the old lady clam up, if she was in league with a hiding Clementine but this was the sort of shop she would use. He found a few things to purchase, including and unusual looking bottle of wine. It looked homemade and was labeled in the same way.

  ‘I hope you like the wine.’ The old shopkeeper declared as he went out.

  ‘I hope so too.’ John answered. ‘If I like it I will be back for more.’

  It was a promise he meant to keep, even if it was horrible. It was both a reason to return and a talking point to break the ice on his return. He drove back to the bed and breakfast for the late meal but left the wine in his room. He thought he would try it himself first, rather than poison his hosts.

  ‘Did you go anywhere nice today?’ The woman asked after they had eaten.

  ‘I saw a few woodpeckers in that long forest, they are hard to get near though. I think a telescope would be more in order for them than this thing!’ John answered and patted his binoculars.

  ‘Wilson has the same trouble.’ The woman answered. ‘But then he does have Digby with him.’ She pointed to the dog which was watching their every move in case they should drop some food.

  ‘Perhaps I should take Digby with me as an excuse.’ John replied and drew a wag from the tail at the mention of the dog’s name.

  ‘Save me walking him, I have to take him miles to wear him out.’ The husband declared.

  ‘Springers are like that.’ John replied.

  ‘They certainly are.’ The man agreed.

  Later that night John opened the bottle and sniffed the cork. It smelled sweet but not bad. He poured a glass and sniffed it.

  ‘Well, down the hatch.’ He said quietly and took a long drink from the glass.

  It was surprisingly good. He emptied the glass and savoured the flavour, trying to work out what it could be called. As it was pink in colour he decided it must be rosé. He poured another drink to make sure it was as good as the first but as he was lying on his bed he never finished it, he was lucky the glass was on the bedside table when he fell asleep, fully clothed and on top of the covers. At some point in the night he slid under the duvet and woke fully dressed, apart from his shoes, in bed.

  ‘Now that is some wine!’ He exclaimed and carefully poured the remainder into the bottle for later.

  He took his clothes of and used the trouser press in his room to try to make his trousers look like he had not slept in them. As he did he smiled, he would be going back for more wine, if she had anymore.

  He suddenly thought about the postie but it was far too late to worry about watching for him. -He might be home enjoying a late breakfast by now!- He thought. It forced another smile, Lorna would have loved a bottle of that wine! He felt a little sad and forced the sadness away, the way to be sad is to get the people responsible! He told himself.

  When he went downstairs he was too late for breakfast but the woman still offered to cook him some.

  ‘No thank you Mrs. Dee, I should have been down on time. I tried some local wine last night, I didn’t inflict it on you just in case it was awful but after one and a half glasses I was asleep.’ John explained.

  ‘That will be old Mrs. Dennison over in the spinney.’ Mrs. Dee said knowingly. ‘Powerful stuff that, should have a warning on it.’

  John was amazed. The shop was a good twenty miles away and she knew the woman.

  ‘I meant to drop a letter off there for the postie but I think it will be too late now.’ He declared.

  ‘Oh yes, Bill drops of the local stuff there for collection before it is light. He will be by later for some supper though, I can give it to him then.’ Mrs. Dee offered.

  ‘Thank you.’ John answered and produced the letter he was carrying for such an occasion. It was addressed to him and had a blank sheet of paper in it but it was a letter.

  Mrs. Dee supplied him with a stamp and John stuck it on the letter before giving it to her. He nodded and walked out. Surprisingly he was not hungry but later that morning he had to stop in a pub and eat.

  There was no news from the post office. The men watching it had not seen anyone else but then John expected that. Was he getting paranoid? He smiled, it was better to be paranoid than dead!

  He parked in the spinney and walked up to feign bird watching. He walked into the trees and found a place he could watch the shop from. Now all he had to do was to wait but the wine was still surprising him and he was soon asleep in the woods. He woke and looked about. A dog stood looking at him and he smiled at it.

  ‘Hello there, have you seen any nice birds?’ He asked.

  The dog wagged its tail and he stroked it. A call in the distance made him run off and John returned to his bird watching until the woman and the dog had gone. He rebuked himself for falling asleep and he had to admit that he was getting too old for all this.

  The shop was not overrun by customers but they came in dribs and drabs, the bell bringing the old lady from the back room. John was pleased to see one woman walk out with her post, this was not a post office but the postie obviously used it to save going to all the outlying places on his route. There was a chance that Clementine did have her post office box emptied and brought to here, or the letters may not even go into the post office box in the first place, not if they were going to end up here anyway. He smiled and thought -so much for post office rules- then went in search of more food.

  As he ate in a pub, he thought about the men watching the post office for someone to go in and collect their mail, it would never happen. Clementine was playing her cards just as close to her chest as always but she was also raising a family as well, which must be hard. He finished his meal and washed it down with a coffee before walking to his car.

  He sat in his car thinking, this was going to be harder than he first imagined. He wondered what Winfield was up to, if he was involved at all. He had to watch the old woman’s shop discreetly over the next two weeks to see if his letter was visible and brought out of the shop. He drove back and took out his bird watching glasses then walked up into the trees which overlooked the shop.

  It was to be a long and tedious week with no sign of the letter coming out of the s
hop by the front door. It was harder to see the back door but he did not think anyone, apart from Clementine, would be going in the back door. And Clementine he would spot, she was too pretty to miss! He thought about that and growled, she was the master of disguise so she could be anyone of the people going into the shop! There was an answering growl from beside him.

  ‘Sorry old chap.’ John said to the dog which was standing there. ‘The bird I was watching did a bunk.’

  ‘Do you talk to the birds as well?’ A woman asked.

  ‘Only if they are close enough.’ John answered.

  ‘Nuthatches come and feed in my garden.’ The woman informed him.

  John was a quick thinker, this might have been an invite to take him away from the shop for some reason, on the other hand it might be an invite to get John to her house for other reasons, or she might be a genuine bird watcher.

  ‘I must come and see them sometime, if that is possible.’ He answered with no discernable delay.

  ‘We are in the manor, you can see it from here.’ The woman answered and pointed to back up her statement. ‘You are welcome at any time.’

  ‘Well it is dead round here at the moment, although I have seen a plethora of birds while I have been here.’ John answered and held his book up as proof. ‘So if it is alright I will walk back with you, I need to stretch my legs.’

  She took the book and read the entries.

  ‘You have been lucky but no nuthatches I see.’ She noted and passed the book back to him.

  They walked back together, this might put his investigation back but it had to be done to keep up his appearance as a twitcher. The dog kept coming to him as they walked across the fields and he stroked it, he liked dogs.

  At the manor they walked in the front door and the woman wiped the dog’s feet before it was allowed in. John noticed that there was no greeting called to anyone inside or any warning that there was a stranger in the house. She showed him to the window which had the best view downstairs and he watched the birds feeding outside. There were no nuthatches at the moment.

  ‘The view is better from the window in my bedroom.’ The woman offered.

  -So it is plan ‘B’ then- John thought and went with the flow.

  They were soon in bed making love, it was as though she had not had sex for some time, but then she was a pretty enough woman and John took the opportunity to enjoy himself.

  An hour later she was asleep on the bed and John returned to watching the birds. He also took the chance to look around the area but there was only one other house visible and that was an oasthouse conversion. He watched that for a bit but then nature called and he was forced to go in search of the bathroom as there was no ensuite in the bedroom they were in. The first door he tried was a cupboard, the second had a younger woman standing there, and she was stark naked!

  ‘I do beg your pardon, I was looking for the bathroom.’ John said in his usual dignified manner.

  ‘There is an ensuite in here you can use.’ The younger woman answered and pointed to the door to the ensuite.

  -Again?- John thought but still went into the bathroom, he would not turn down such a pretty girl.

  They made love for another hour and John was starting to feel his age before she had had enough, then he returned to the other bedroom, seriously hoping that the woman in there did not wake! He was going to bird watch but he was tired and decided to risk waking the woman and get into bed. He was soon asleep.

  When he woke, he was on his own. He dressed and walked down to the kitchen, which had been where he started bird watching and found both of the women there.

  ‘Hello lover boy.’ The youngest greeted and John expected ructions but the other woman turned to face him.

  ‘So you decided to wake up have you. I didn’t think bird watching was so arduous.’ She declared with a smile. ‘What do you want to eat?’

  ‘I didn’t get to add nuthatches to my list.’ He noted as they sat at the dinner table, eating a meal fit for a king and he needed it.

  ‘No, the young girl in the oasthouse feeds them as well, I suppose they are all over there at the moment but they do come here quite often.’ The older woman replied. ‘You can wait here until they show if you like.’

  John realized that he did not know their names or they his.

  ‘I am John Fairchild.’ He said by way of introduction.

  ‘I am Julie Smart and this is my daughter Ruth. And no, there is no longer a Mr. Smart.’ The older woman answered.

  John only returned to his bed and breakfast to fetch his suitcase and he was soon back at the manor. These were locals and would know all that went on around here and he surmised the best way to find out was not to ask anything, unless it was bird related.

  He was soon making love again and enjoying it but in between, when they sat in the kitchen the two women gossiped. When it turned to neighbours, and what they were up to John listened without being seen to listen, as it were. It was lucky that he had a good memory and he stored all he learnt away for future use.

  He still walked and looked at birds, making his way over to the oasthouse to see the nuthatches which had yet to show at the manor. They were not there either and john went farther afield to find them, not that he was really interested but it got him out of the manor for a while, which meant he had a rest. He had not met the like, two women who openly shared a man and in the same house! Still he was not complaining, there was little else to do round here.

  He walked as far as the little shop and bought one of her bottles of wine, with that shared between them there would be little sex afterwards, just snoring.

  ‘Did you like the first bottle?’ The old shopkeeper asked.

  ‘Yes I did but it certainly has a kick to it.’ John answered. ‘A nice flavour though.’

  John walked back with the wine and placed in on the kitchen table.

  ‘Is that from old Marcy?’ Ruth asked.

  ‘It is.’ John replied.

  ‘Then we’d best get to it now, neither of us will be in any state afterwards. Her wine ought to carry a government health warning!’ Ruth declared.

  They made love and when Julie saw the wine when she came in, she decided that it was her turn next. John kept going until they were both satisfied and thought kindly of Lana for getting him back in the swing of things. Without her they might have killed him between them. They drank the wine after eating and staggered to bed for an early night. By then John needed it!

  In the morning no one wanted to get up but the dog had other ideas and John found himself bird watching and walking the dog at the same time but the two did not go together well. He did it because he had bought the wine.

  ‘How can you watch birds and walk a dog at the same time?’ The girl from the oasthouse asked.

  ‘With great difficulty young lady but it was either that, or the dog was not going to get a walk, and I couldn’t do that to the poor thing as it was my fault that no one wanted to walk him.’

  ‘Why was it your fault?’ The girl asked.

  ‘I bought a bottle of old Marcy’s wine.’

  ‘Oh that explains it, my parents drink that now and again but not very often.’ She answered with a laugh. ‘See you.’ She added and ran off.

  ‘Bye.’ John answered and watched the dog overtake her.

  He walked on, he knew the dog would come back and it did. He managed to see a tree creeper in the woods above the shop and stayed there watching it until the dog barked impatiently.

  ‘It’s alright for you.’ John said in a lowered voice. ‘You will get fed when you get back. I will probably dragged back into bed! Not that I am complaining mind. Well not too much anyway.

  They walked back to the manor. With no one about John fed the dog and when he settled down for a nap as well John went out for a walk to watch for birds and information. The two women had talked about the locals and he hoped to glean more information by mentioning anyone he saw. With that in mind he took more notice of the people he met while
he was out.

  Each one got a nod of the head and either good morning or a good afternoon, depending what the time was. By the time he returned to the manor it was three in the afternoon and he had added more birds to his tally. He walked in and dropped his little book on the table and Julie picked it up.

  ‘So you saw our tree creepers today then?’ She asked.

  ‘Only one of them but it will do. I think I saw the male.’

  ‘Where did you see a kingfisher?’ She asked.

  ‘The stream. I snuggled into some bushes where a branch crosses at just the right height and sat there waiting. When the kingfisher landed on the branch I was made up and was hoping to see it feed but some old woman with a brown dog came by and frightened it away! I was a little miffed.’ John answered.

  ‘Did she see you?’ Julie asked.

  ‘Yes she did.’ Ruth answered coming in the door. ‘It was Mrs. Muggeridge, she has just rung us to warn of a strange man lurking in the bushes. It will be all over the village by now.’

  ‘Strange?’ John questioned.

  ‘You didn’t have a fishing rod.’ Julie explained.

  He held up his binoculars.

  ‘Peeping Toms use them.’ Ruth pointed out. ‘Especially the older ones.’

  ‘Who are you calling old?’ John protested.

  ‘Not me John, it was Mrs. Muggeridge, but then she doesn’t know you like I do.’ Ruth exclaimed.

  ‘And she is not likely to either. She looked like Nora Batty, right down to the wrinkled stockings!’

  The two women laughed and the affair was forgotten. They moved on to saner things, like cooking the evening meal. John took the opportunity to show off his culinary skills. He rummaged in the fridge and cupboards and produced a very enjoyable chicken curry. Afterwards they settled down to watch television and talk.

  ‘Have you seen the nuthatches yet?’ Julie asked when the commercials came on.