To his credit, Neil Woodville had rolled up his sleeves and taken his turn with a mop. When the bar was cleaned, and the worst of the stink had fled through the open windows, Woodville took Peter Rayment aside.
“This proves that it was Doug,” he insisted.
“That’s absurd. It was Doug who raised the alarm.”
“Yes, but what brought him here in the first place?”
“Instinct,” said Rayment. “Pure instinct. He had a strange feeling that something was amiss and he drove over here.”
“Well, I think that he wrecked the place when he arrived.”
“No!”
“It all goes back to that wage rise we turned down.”
“This isn’t to do with money, Neil. Look at the facts. The clubhouse has been attacked twice now but nothing at all has been stolen. There’s hundreds of pounds’ worth of spirits and liqueurs here, not to mention all the silver cups we’ve won over the years. If Doug was the culprit,” argued Rayment, “don’t you think he’d have made off with a tidy haul? And why would any man who’d committed a crime then report it to the police?”
“That was a cunning ploy.”
“No, this was done by someone from Crowford.”
“Or by someone from Crowford who paid Doug Lomas.”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“It’s a possibility. I mentioned it on the quiet to the coppers.”
“No wonder they were giving our barman such a grilling.”
“Security cameras,” said Woodville solemnly. “That’s what we should have installed. An isolated clubhouse like this needs protection. First thing tomorrow, I’m going to contact a security firm.”
“That’s a committee decision.”
“This is too important to be left to the committee.”
“Then let Martin take over,” said Rayment. “He’s the chairman.”
Woodville was determined. “I’m going over his head,” he said. “It’s the only way to get anything done around here. Wait for Martin to take action and we could wait forever. This club needs a chairman with real initiative — not a bloody cripple trying to relive his playing days from a wheelchair.”
In spite of the protests of Martin Hewlett, closed-circuit cameras were installed almost immediately. Since he insisted on paying for them, Neil Woodville was the first person to see them in operation. He was certain that they would act as a deterrent and, for a couple of weeks, they seemed to do just that. There were no further incidents. Shelton RFC then won the cup in a thrilling final that was in the balance until the very last minute. It was an occasion for a riotous party in the clubhouse that went on into the small hours. Doug Lomas had a lot of clearing up to do afterwards. The last thing he did before he locked up was to switch on the burglar alarm and the cameras.
The night wore on. It was almost dawn when a car pulled up in the lane at the rear of the clubhouse. A hooded figure got out and moved furtively across the field. Taking care to approach the building in a blind spot between two cameras, the intruder used a key to open the door and stepped quickly inside. The security system was switched off at once. The clubhouse was now at the mercy of its nocturnal visitor yet again. It was time to inflict some real damage.
The intruder had brought some rags that had been soaked in paraffin. Shelton RFC would not merely lose its supply of draught beer this time. Its clubhouse would go up in smoke. Before a match could be struck, however, the lights suddenly went on and Doug Lomas came charging into the bar to jump on the arsonist. They fell to the floor and rolled over. The barman was just about to throw a first punch when he realized whom he had caught.
“Mrs. Hewlett!” he cried. “What are you doing here?”
Martin Hewlett was roused early that morning. After a night of steady drinking, he usually slept for twelve hours, but his wife shook him awake. He was surprised to see Doug Lomas standing at the foot of his bed.
“Don’t tell me there’s been more trouble!” moaned Hewlett.
Lomas shifted his feet uneasily. “Your wife will explain.”
“Explain what?”
She took a deep breath and launched into her story. Hewlett was so shocked at what he heard that he felt as if he were being hit by the fatal crash tackle all over again. At the moment of impact, his whole body went numb. There was a mist before his eyes. The sense of panic and helplessness returned.
“Can this be true?” he gasped.
“I hate the game, Martin,” she confessed. “It gave me a lot at one time but it took away far more. It cost me my husband, my lover, my best friend, my chances of ever having that child we wanted.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t hear all this,” said Lomas, embarrassed.
“No, no,” she insisted. “You’ve earned the right. You stopped me from doing something I’d have been ashamed of for the rest of my life.” She bit her lip. “I was desperate, Martin. I married this wonderful man, then he disappeared in a split second one afternoon on a rugby field. Instead of being a wife, I’m nothing but an unpaid carer, feeding you, dressing and undressing you, seeing to your needs, taking you here and there, stage-managing your public appearances. And I don’t mind doing any of that,” she went on with passion, “because you’re my husband and I love you. But I simply couldn’t go on putting this helpless drunk to bed every time you went to the clubhouse. I couldn’t go on hearing the name of Shelton Rugby Football Club, morning, noon, and night. I just couldn’t take any more. It was killing me.”
Hewlett was dazed. “Was I such a monster?”
“It’s not your fault, Martin. I can see that. It was the game itself. I felt that I just had to get you away from it somehow. It’s ruining what we have of a life together. Our whole marriage has been crash-tackled.” She gave a wan smile. “At least I got what I wanted. You’ll have to resign now. Shelton RFC can’t have a chairman whose wife is serving a prison sentence.”
“That’s not going to happen,” said Lomas firmly.
“It must, Doug. I deserve my punishment.”
“They can’t prosecute without a witness, and there’s no way you’ll get me into court again. I’ve been on the wrong side of the law, yet your husband gave me a second chance. I appreciate that. One good turn deserves another. Nobody need know what happened at the clubhouse tonight,” he went on, looking Rosie in the eye. “Especially Mr. Woodville. If he knew that I’d spent the night there, he’d probably sue me for trespass. My only concern is that the place is still standing and I still have a job as barman.”
“You deserve a medal for what you did, Doug,” said Hewlett.
“Yes,” agreed Rosie. “Thank God you were there.”
“Let’s keep the police out of this,” advised Lomas. “This is between the two of you — nobody else.” He moved to the door. “Goodbye.”
They stared at each other in silence, not even hearing the front door open and shut. Rosie was contrite, but it was her husband who felt most at fault. His obsession with the club had blinded him to the strain it placed on Rosie. His behavior had driven a law-abiding wife to commit a succession of crimes. It was a cry for help that had to be answered.
Reaching for the telephone, he dialed a number and waited.
“Simon?” he said as he heard the familiar voice of Simon Mifflin. “Good morning. Martin here. How would you like to be the next chairman of Shelton RFC?… No, no, don’t argue. I’m stepping down at the end of the season and want you to take over… I’m sure that a large majority will vote you in. There’s just one proviso, if you want my backing… Doug Lomas must stay on as barman. He’s been a real hero for us. At the next committee meeting, I’ll make sure that we increase his wages… And by the way, the insurance company has been bellyaching about our claims so — to hell with them! I’ll foot the bill for any damage we incurred at the clubhouse. It’s my parting shot as chairman… What’s that?… I’ll tell you when I see you, Simon. Cheerio.” Hewlett put the receiver down. “He was asking why I decided to retire.”