Ben was on his feet, with Ned beside him. He stood in front of Dai, his voice calm. "You'll end up in trouble
yourself if you go 'round breaking heads with that thing, Mr. Evans. Leave this to me."
Dai stared at the lad's steady blue eyes, unsure of what to do, until Mrs. Winn stood up. "Do as he says, Mr.
Evans, you can trust the boy."
As Ben walked from the Tea Shoppe, Dai Evans stood to one side, avoiding Ned, whose hackles had risen. The
big, black Labrador was growling, low and ominous.
There was a moment's silence, followed by screams, yells, and barking, then the pounding of feet. Ben strolled
back into the shop and sat down. He winked at Blodwen Evans. "More ice cream, please, marm, and a pot of fresh tea
for Miz Winn. My turn to pay for this one, pals."
Five minutes later the dog returned and flopped down beneath the table, passing Ben a thought. "I chased 'em up
as far as the station, where they ran into the waiting room. Station-master didn't like it much, he was chasing them out
as I left. Wilf tried arguing with him, said he'd tell his dad that the sta-tionmaster was driving them out into the teeth
of a wild dog. Stationmaster didn't seem bothered, said he didn't care if there was a pack of wolves outside, they
weren't allowed on railway property without a valid ticket for a train journey. Told them to go and play their silly
games elsewhere. Any ice cream left?"
Ned was the hero of the hour. Dai and Blodwen Evans refused to take any money for tea or ice cream. Dai knelt
by the table, feeding the Labrador a plateful of vanilla ice cream with fresh milk poured over it. Ned lapped away
happily as Dai ruffled his ears.
"There's a good dog, you are, wish I 'ad one like you, boyo. How did you get him to do it, Ben?"
It was Amy who answered for Ben. "It was nothing really, Mr. Evans, it's just that Ned can't stand noise or bad
manners."
Ben grinned at her over his plate of ice cream. "Well said, Amy, you're getting to know Ned rather well!"
18.
MAUD BOWE SAT PRIMLY AT THE SMITHERSES' table with Obadiah and his wife Clarissa. They waited
in silence as the maid served a gammon ham salad. Obadiah poured himself a glass of claret, ignoring his wife and
Maud, who preferred barley cordial in the afternoon. When the maid had retired, shutting the door behind her, Maud
continued her onesided argument. Mr. Smithers dismissed her every point, overriding everything she said. Though in
the light of what had taken place with Mrs. Winn, it was Maud who was winning the debate.
She tapped the spotless white damask tablecloth with a dainty finger. "As I've said, sir, this is going to cost us
quite a bit!"
Smithers took a large swig of wine and stifled a belch. "Nonsense, m'girl, everything's well in order, take it
from me."
Mrs. Smithers gazed at her salad, slightly shocked that a young girl would argue with her husband, a thing she
never dared do. But Maud persisted. "Everything may well be in order with the rest of the villagers, sir. But Mrs.
Winn is the one who is digging her heels in, she's going to be trouble. If she refuses our offer, we'll have to wait seven
clear days just for a possession warrant. That's what my father says, and he knows the law, believe me!"
Smithers poured himself more claret, stuffing a piece of gammon in his mouth with his fingers. Table manners
were not his strong point. He pointed a greasy finger at Maud. "Good man, your father, nice fellow. But he doesn't
know everything. Not by a long chalk, missie!"
Maud hid her revulsion of the ill-bred northerner, but spoke out pertly in her father's defense. "My father knows
his business, sir! He has made contracts with building firms that will not wait seven extra days. If Mrs. Winn is not
out of her house on the deadline stated in the clearance notice, it will cost our scheme dearly with penalties for broken
agreements. I hope you are aware of the position that delays can put us in!"
Mrs. Smithers flinched as her husband's temper broke. He sprayed ham and claret into the air as he shouted.
"Don't you dare to tell me my business, girl! I know these villagers better than you or your father. Hah! What has that
old Winn biddy got to prove her claims, eh? Nothing! We'll be saving ourselves money by clapping a compulsory
court order on her. A mere pittance set by the county developer, that's all she'll get for her house! As for the
almshouse, it belongs to nobody, we'll get that free! The rest of the villagers are too disorganized to resist us. They
know virtually nothing about the law, we'll pay 'em the set rate for their properties. Little enough that'll be, I can tell
you!"
He sat back, digging a scrap of ham from his teeth with a fingernail. But Maud would not be browbeaten.
Wiping her lips daintily on a damask table napkin, she pushed aside her plate and rose from the table. "I'm going to
my room, sir.
Nothing has changed, we need to get the old lady out of her house by the appointed time. Whilst I'm upstairs,
I'll give some thought to the problem. Perhaps you would do well to follow my example!"
She swept out of the dining room without another word, leaving Obadiah Smithers spluttering to his wife.
"Cheeky little snip, who does she think she's talking to, eh? She's not twelve months out of some fancy finishing
school. Hah! I was building my fortune the hard way, long before she was born. Right?"
Mrs. Smithers poured herself a glass of barley water as she replied dutifully to her irate husband. "Yes, dear,
would you like some barley water? It's nice and cool."
Claret slopped onto the tablecloth as he poured more from the decanter. "Barley water, bah! Can't abide the
filthy stuff. Look out, here's that harum-scarum of mine."
Wilf entered from the lawn by the French windows, red-faced and breathing heavily. He plunked himself down
in the chair Maud had vacated. Taking the gammon ham slices from her plate, he lathered them with mustard and
crammed them between two pieces of bread. His mother lectured him as he tore at the sandwich.
"Oh, Wilfred, you haven't washed your hands and you're late for lunch again. Leave that salad alone, it was
Miss Bowe's. I'll tell Hetty to bring you a fresh plate. Dearie me, just look at you—"
Smithers interrupted his wife brusquely. "Oh, leave the lad alone, Clarissa. Stop fussin' an' faffin' about him!
Now then, you young rip, got enough to eat there, eh?"
Wilf grumbled through a mouthful of ham sandwich. "Could do with some lemonade an' a piece of cake."
Mrs. Smithers got up from the table. "I'll go and fetch them."
Her husband called out as she left the room. "No need for you to go, what'm I payin' servants for?"
She paid him no heed and made her way to the pantry.
Smithers poured himself more claret. "Huh, women!"
He leaned close to his son and nudged him, lowering his voice confidentially.
"So then, what've you been up to, you and that gang of yours?"
Wilf wiped mustard from his mouth with the back of a grimy hand. He knew it was better to speak of victories
than defeats to his father. "Just livening things up in the village. Gave old Evans a bad time. I heard him say he'd be
glad to get back to Wales."
Mrs. Smithers came in bearing a glass of lemonade and a plate of sliced sultana cake and was making as if to sit
down when Obadiah stared pointedly at her.
"Finished your lunch, m'dear?"
She understood immediately that he wanted to be alone with Wilf. "Yes, dear, I'll go along and give Cook the
menu for dinner this evening. Do you think Miss Bowe likes roast beef?"