Amy stared at him. "What's the matter, Ben?"
He flicked the hair from his eyes. "Oh, nothing really. You were right, Amy, Mr. Braithwaite is funny. I like
him."
16.
OVER BREAKFAST ON SATURDAY MORNING, Ben had a request to ask of Mrs. Winn.
"Miz Winn, that room across the landing from my room upstairs, the one with the thick door and brass lock.
What do you use it for?"
She looked at him over the rim of her teacup. "I don't use it for anything, that was Captain Winn's study. He
called it his den. All his stuff is in there. I only go in once every couple of months to dust around."
Ben had made an educated guess that the room would be the captain's private sanctum. Apart from one or two
souvenirs he had brought home for his wife and some photographs that decorated the mantel, there was not much
evidence of a Royal Navy ship's commander about the rest of the house. Evidently Mrs. Winn kept the room as some
sort of shrine to her husband's memory. She watched Ben's eyes carefully.
Knowing what he was going to say next, he hesitated a moment before speaking. "Miz Winn, would it be
all right if I took a look in there?"
The black dog had wandered up to the table. She patted his head, feeding him buttered toast crusts, and kept
Ben waiting on her answer, which she gave after a lengthy interval. "Is it important that you look in the captain's room,
Ben?"
The boy nodded earnestly. "Time's running short for your village. We might find something up there that could
help."
She took a final sip of tea. "Right, then, you may take a look this afternoon, when we get back from shopping in
the village. I'll need your help to carry things, I'm not just shopping for myself anymore. Come on, then, let's make an
early start!"
Hiding his frustration at not being able to search immediately, Ben thanked her and passed a thought to Ned.
"Never mind hiding under the table, you're coming, too!"
Morning sun dappled through the trees growing behind the village square. The place hummed gently with that
Saturday morning sound of folk doing their weekend shopping. Ben carried Mrs. Winn's basket dutifully, wondering
when she was going to finish getting her supplies. They had gone from shop to shop, the old lady bustling about,
dropping items into the basket, talking aloud to herself. "There, sugar and rice and some nutmegs for my Sunday rice
pudding. Come on, young man, keep up!"
At last they emerged from the shop. Mrs. Winn pursed her lips, mentally itemizing the grocery list. "Oh dear, I
forgot the tea! Maybe I'll get some cocoa, too, a mug of cocoa's nice at bedtime. Do you like cocoa, Ben? You stay
here, I'll go and get it." She vanished inside the shop again.
Ben changed hands, swapping the basket from right to left and tightening his hold on a package beneath his arm.
He caught a thoughtwave from Ned. "Good boy, don't let that basket drop now. Over here, Ben, look who's with me."
The Somerses were sitting on the post office steps, stroking Ned, who was enjoying the attention immensely.
Ben spoke aloud to the dog as he approached.
"You great lazy lump, you should be carrying this. Whew! Miz Winn certainly takes some keeping up with for
an old lady. Hello there, you two!"
Amy pointed to the package beneath his arm. "What's in the parcel, Ben?"
To her surprise he looked faintly embarrassed. "Some new clothes. Miz Winn bought them. I didn't want her to,
but she thinks I need to look respectable for Sunday church service tomorrow. Move over there, pals."
Ben sat with them on the post office steps, watching folk following their weekend shopping routines as always.
Shop doorbells tinkled as people came and went, standing beneath the canvas awnings, gossiping and viewing the
goods behind the bull's-eye-paned windows of drapers, chandlers, butchers, and dairy produce merchants.
Housewives with heavily laden shopping bags hanging from the handles of baby perambulators, calling to husbands
who were chatting to other menfolk outside the newsagent and tobacconists. Children with coned paper bags,
emerging from the sweetshop, sucking on treacle toffees, aniseed balls, and nut brittle, gazing absently about to locate
their parents. Ben could not help commenting.
"Odd, isn't it. You wouldn't think that the place has less than a week left as a village. Don't they care, what's the
matter with them?"
The girl watched Ben's intense blue eyes studying the scene. "My mum says it's because they're village folk,
with a village mentality. She says they won't accept it could happen to them. These village families go back centuries.
They just don't know what progress and change mean. If anything frightens them, they push it to the back of their
minds and get on with their lives. Hoping it'll go away, I suppose."
Alex's face reddened, and he stared down at the step. "Like me. I try to ignore Wilf Smithers and his gang. I
wasn't much use to you yesterday, never said a word, just stood there like a lump."
Ben patted his friend's arm reassuringly. "But you did do something, pal, you stood alongside Amy and me. It
was Ned who saved the day. I was as scared as you or your sister—there was a whole gang of them. No shame in
being afraid when you're outnumbered more than three to one, right, Amy?"
The girl could see their new friend was being kind to her brother, and she nodded. "That's right, Ben. There's
better ways of being brave than letting yourself get beaten up by Smithers's gang."
Ben rose as he saw Mrs. Winn approaching. "Your sister's right, Alex. Courage shows itself in different
ways—chin up, pal, you'll see."
Mrs. Winn loaded more purchases into the basket and greeted the two young people.
"Well, good morning, do you remember me? You came with your father when my cat was sick last year. Now
let me see, you both had names beginning with A ... Amelia and Alexander!"
Alex had cheered up a bit, and he corrected her. "Amy and Alex, Miz Winn. I remember you gave us apple pie
and lemonade. How is your cat now?"
Mrs. Winn rummaged through her purse as she replied. "Horatio's fine, thank you, fine. Ben, how would you
like to take your friends for some ice cream? Evans Tea Shoppe makes their own, you'll enjoy it. I'll come over later
for tea and a scone. Here, Amy, you can be in charge of the ice cream money. Don't forget to buy one for Ned, too.
He's a good dog."
Ben picked up the basket. "Where are you going, Miz Winn?"
Setting her lips tightly, she pointed at two figures entering a building on the square's east side. "Right where
those two are going, to my lawyer's office. I've been hoping to see Mackay. Time's of the essence, isn't it." She had
said nothing about an appointment. "I'll see you later."
As they watched Mrs. Winn walking swiftly across to the lawyer's office, Amy nodded to the man who was
ushering a young lady into the building ahead of him. "That's Obadiah Smithers, Wilf's dad. He's the one who's
buying the village to turn it into a cement factory. I don't know who the lady is, though."
Ben glanced at the pair. "Neither do I, but I saw them get off the train together when I arrived here. Maybe she's
from London, part of that firm Smithers has dealings with—"
Alex interrupted. "Jackman Donning and Bowe, that's who my dad said they were. Wonder which one she is?"
17.
EVANS TEA SHOPPE DID SERVE GOOD ICE cream—it came in a long dish, pink and white with raspberry
sauce and chocolate crumbs sprinkled on top. Mr. Evans worked in the back of the shop, baking and making ice