Harry in a Spot of Bother.

HARRY IN A SPOT OF BOTHER
No eggs in the pullets' nesting boxes again. `Keep trying girls.'
she
laughed.
`Do you always talk to your poultry?' He was leaning on the
gate.
`Hello!'
`Hi! Your buildings are in a sorry state. Can I help? I'm a dab hand
with
a hammer.'
`Sorry. I can't afford labour. If things get any worse I'll botch
'em
myself.'
`Grazing for my horse and a stand for my van's enough.'
`Van? Horse?'
`Outside.' He jerked a thumb towards the gate. She'd never set eyes
on
this guy before. Who was he? `I give good value.'
Maggie struggled to get the strings off a straw bale.
`Hey, let me do that.' He opened a knife and cut the strings, with two
sharp
movements; the bale fell apart.
`Spread it here?'
`No, there's a heifer with mastitis in a box. She picked up the bale
leaving
some for the pullets to scratch in. In the loose box she felt the
heifer's inflamed
udder.
He leaned on the door. `Looks pretty angry. When's she due?
Imminently?' Maggie nodded. `Needs stripping out. It's badly infected.
I'll do
it.'
`You know how?' He hung his hat on a nail. She could do with some
free
help. He seemed decent enough but.. `I should,' he said. She watched
him
working, almost tenderly, talking to the heifer to keep her calm.
'Quite the expert!' she said. 'Thanks.'
'And my van?'
`O.K. - for a day or two; park in Home Field.'
`Thank you Ma'am.'
* * *
By the end of a fortnight tiles had been replaced, doors swung
on
hinges, loose boxes were clean, the tractor was running and best of
all,
gates had proper catches where scraps of string and wire had
been.
The house looked better too. She offered him use of the ground
floor
shower and ashamed of old wellies and shoes, buckets, hay nets and
halters
left around she did a swift cleaning job while he fixed fences in the
yard.
`Harry, you're a marvel. I'll cook you a meal tonight to say
thanks.'
`Sounds like my marching orders.'
`Eight O.K.?'
When he opened a bottle of elderberry wine she smiled; he was
unlikely
to notice her rotten cooking with a little alcohol inside him. He
dusted two
glasses. She couldn't remember the last time they were used.
`Cheers!' She was washing lettuce.
`Cheers! When did you last go out, for a meal?'
`Before Reg died; it's no fun on my own.'
`All work and no play...'
`I keep busy.' She put a plate of cold meat and a dish of potatoes on
the
table. 'Tuck in. Sorry it's not exactly a banquet.'
`I keep busy too, but it's good to relax.'
'Help yourself.' She said passing him a clean plate. `Salad? I'd go to
seed if
I stopped.'
`How long have you lived alone?'
`Since Rosie left. She was Daddy's girl, we've drifted apart since
she
became a head - now what about you?'
`Nothing to tell. I've been travelling for twenty years. I dropped
out,
haven't had a steady job since...' he shrugged.
`How do you manage?' He poured some more elderberry wine.
`Seasonal work - fruit, hops, potatoes; grazing and a stand for the
van as
part of my wages.'
`Or all of it?'
`You needed a hand. It's too much for you.' He looked at her
almost
fondly, `Besides I've enjoyed being here.'
`More salad?' His plate was full.
`Will you marry again?'
`No, the children wouldn't like me to. mayonnaise?'
`What's it to them? They have their own lives, don't let them run
yours.'
`Rosie's a headmistress. If I ...' she paused. `Let's talk about you.
Have
you got a family?'
`A son.'
`And your wife?'
`In a secure unit.'
`Not.'
`The sort of establishment they once called an asylum.' His tone told
her
questions weren't welcome.
`What do you do on winter evenings?'
`That's a leading question.' His mouth twitched with amusement.
`Do you have television - in your van?'
`No.'
`You read then.'
`Yes; more often I write.' Maggie laughed. He looked like a
refugee
from a spaghetti Western, what could he write?
`Shopping lists? Letters home?' she asked.
`Science fiction.' He said tersely.
`Have you been published? More fruit?'
`In magazines; my stuff deserves better. They pay - just.
Maggie began to stack the dishes. `I'll wash.' He set about it with
the
same fervour he attacked everything.
`Coffee?'
`Not for me thanks. Spoils my beauty sleep. Can you spare some
milk?'
`Hot with chocolate?'
`Hot chocolate? You're spoiling me.' He sat on the sofa, shifted the
cat,
put his feet up and was asleep. Maggie set the cup on a table beside
him.
`Harry? Harry.'
`Huh?' Briefly he opened his eyes and smiled. He looked so peaceful
she
finished her own drink and went to bed. The alarm clock told her it was
already
a quarter past midnight.
Neighbours would talk if they knew Harry spent the night in her
house?
There'd be no point telling them he slept on the sofa. She needn't have
worried,
when she parted the curtains next morning he was stripped to the waist,
shaving
by the water trough.
He found a can of white paint and spent the day glossing window
frames.
`Thanks Harry. There's nothing else. Stay parked if...'
`I'll drop in sometime, see how you're doing.'
`Yes, please do.'
Next day he wasn't about. The van was shut up. Maggie concluded
he'd gone shopping. When he didn't appear on the following day she
walked
across Home Field.
`Hello! Harry!' She knocked. There was no response. From the steps
she
could see into the van through a slit window in the top half of the
door. It
was neat with comfortable good taste about it. `Oh,' she gasped `What
did he
think of my chaos?'
`Good morning.'
`Good morning.' She backed carefully down the wooden steps. `Can
I
help you?'
`Is this Mr. Peckam's caravan?' Maggie hadn't thought of Harry with
a
surname. He was just Harry. `Yes,' she said doubtfully.
`You're Mrs Harcourt and this is your field?'
`Pardon me, but have you the right to ask questions Mr..?' He
showed
her a card bearing his photograph. `Police, Madam, Detective Constable
Chant.
Friend of Mr Peckam's are you?'
`He's been working for me.'
`He's in a spot of bother.'
`What sort of bother?'
`A young woman was attacked.'
`Would you like to come to the station and tell my sergeant what
you
know about Mr Peckam Madam?'
Sergeant Flemming greeted her. `What about this man Peckam, Mrs
Harcourt?'
`He's been doing odd jobs - for a fortnight.'
`Parked on your land for a fortnight.'
`That's right.'
`You've no reason to suspect..' His tone angered Maggie.
`Traveller.
Vagrant! The young lady in question said her attacker was a stranger;
tall and
thin, with long hair.'
`So you think it's Harry.'
`Oh, Harry is it?'
`He introduced himself as Harry.'
`Living out there you should be careful Mrs Harcourt.'
`I am careful, Sergeant. Harry's a gentleman.'
`He can't say where he was at the time in question.'
`When was that?'
`Thursday night.'
`You've proof it was him?'
`Give us time... We've taken him in for questioning.'
`Surely you're jumping to conclusions Sergeant?'
`We don't think so.'
`He's not your man. He works hard and writes for magazines.'
`What sort of magazines I wonder.' He smirked and Maggie's
hackles
rose.
`Science fiction,' she said defiantly.
`Mmm... one more question. Has he been to your house?'
`Yes. Farming's dirty work. He uses my ground floor shower. He
has no hot water system.'
`Does he stay long?'
`As long as it takes him to shower; except?.' Thursday! Wasn't that
the
night she cooked a meal for Harry?
`What day is today?'
`Sunday. Roast beef and Yorkshires at one o'clock if I can get
home.'
Maggie's days were all the same. Harry was out yesterday, which
was
Saturday. The day after they'd had the meal he'd been painting, that
must have
been Friday, so on Thursday night he slept on her sofa. Did he go out
and attack
the girl after she'd gone to bed?
`Except..?' said the Sergeant.
`Except..?'
`You said "As long as it took to shower except..."'
`Did I? I was going to say, except on Thursday when I cooked a
meal
to thank him for his hard work. He brought bottle of home-made wine and
went
to sleep on my sofa, so I left him and went to bed.'
`Did he stay there all night?' Flemming smirked again.
`I couldn't say. The next time I saw him he was shaving.'
`Oh!' he leered.
`By the water trough Sergeant. I saw him from my window.'
Maggie read and signed the statement Constable Chant gave her.
* * *
She'd been home about two hours. She'd fed and watered the animals
and
bedded them down and now she was putting her feet up with a cup of tea
and a
thickly buttered doorstep. There was a knock at the door.
`Harry! she said opening the door. `Why didn't you..?'
He flung his arms wide and hugged her. `You are wonderful Maggie
Harcourt!'
`Why didn't you say you were with me?' she said fiercely.
'I thought you might not thank me for besmirching your image,' he
said
`But you noticed the time at a quarter past midnight -and it was in
your
statement. That's when the attack happened, on the other side of
town.'
`I was so worried about you... Oh Harry!' Tears were in her
eyes.
`What about a glass of elderflower champagne?' he said.

ENDS

1,604 words Rosa Johnson