Chapter 1
Oh no thought Sidney, no, no, not today, today of all days. Why he asked himself, it had been weeks, weeks with no sign of them. Then now on this cold and wet Monday morning he saw the car approaching, Sidney was not a man given to cursing but when he saw the car come round the corner he simply forgot himself, Bugger he said aloud. He then chastised himself for allowing someone or something make him feel the need to curse, in truth effing and jeffing were never the done thing in his book.
Due to the direction of the sunlight he could not see the occupants of the car but he knew, knew that there would be four of them. They were big blokes as well, he had known men of such mammoth stature in his youth, through school and college and university, always dwarfing his not so ample frame. These lads were something else, at least in his youth the violence and intimidation were kept on the rugby pitch. Sidney wondered just how little car took the combined mass of those four bodies, they were like those grotesquely oversized fridges such as the one his wife had bought.
He watched them exit the car, they were dressed as they normally were when they turned up, looking like four male models. The look said that this is the cut of cloth to be seen in if you were a successful city businessman, though he doubted that they were. They started to towards where Sidney was stood and just as before they walked towards him side by side, like a wall of George Clooney, the only thing missing were the trademark sunglasses. Though to Sidney they were the Grim Reaper, who had gotten with the times and hired himself an image and fashion consultant.
They might be best dressed but they were going to ruin his day yet again. It was all his wife’s fault. When the four men were almost half way across the distance that had first separated them they merged into single file like a well rehearsed dance routine, or four migrating Neanderthals. In his opinion this was very deliberate and meant to frighten him, it worked. The first few times that they had turned up they had no real interest in Sidney or knowledge of his previous life, they just liked looking frightening and scary which intimidated him. This was just an out-of-the-way backstreet and this was just business, no names, strictly cash only transactions.
All this changed one day, the last time they had arrived. Changed purely by chance when another shady customer had recognized Sidney and a verbal assault ensued, an assault the four of them inadvertently witnessed. It had all kicked off immediately but luckily for once Sidney had been ready and had locked the door, though that had not stopped her mouthing off and cursing obscenities through the partially open window, she was most incandescent. This was fast becoming an occupational hazard, or ex occupational as his wife had kindly reminded him when he had mentioned it recently.
So that was how they had been made aware of who Sidney really was, made aware of his past life, or as aware and informed as you can get from a spital splattering diatribe. She only stopped this verbal abuse when she realized there were four monoliths stood open mouthed only yards away, clenching her fists she did that Oooooh thing women do when they would love to punch you in the chops, stamping her feet she called Sidney something extremely vulgar and no doubt illegal.
Then she marched off threatening a return. Sidney was in no doubt as to this, odds on she would be back. Given the nature of service he supplied in this quiet non de script back street it was inevitable as these people were creatures of habit, they could not go without it.
After she had gone Sidney was left alone with these four, now they were an enlightened Mountain Range, they took the same attitude and labelled Sidney a guilty man. Sidney was surprised it had not ended in violence that morning. Instead, they also left threatening a return and retribution, this morning true to their word they were back again. So there he stood absolutely scared witless, he would rather be anywhere else than stood here at this moment. The first one stopped right in front of him blocking out the light. Help cried Sidney inside his head, this bloke was built like Thor, but was British, and bald. He tried humouring himself when he got this scared, it never normally worked. This would hurt, each one having a pop before marching off, Woof, Woof, Woof, Grrrrrrrrr.
Poor Sidney stood rooted to the spot, it was hard to fathom but perfectly true that a comment or jibe could physically hurt, hypothetically he had just been hit by a Thor by Thor. Sidney was considered a guilty man, considered guilty of committing a very heinous crime, Sidney had killed an animal. It was all his wife’s fault. Up until almost three years ago Sidney had been a Veterinary Surgeon, a well respected one at that, as he was a naturally gifted Vet. He had a burgeoning rural practice. He was extremely contented with his lot, until that fateful day, the day the dog died.
That working day was meant to be like the majority of his, starting off with paperwork before a short morning surgery, with the usual forms and yet more paperwork, emails to be answered and that days’ correspondence to be dealt with after surgery. He would then take a drive out to a few of his more elderly folk to save them a journey on public transport with a fast worsening Fido. That was his idea of customer service, Sidney secretly thought that the animals were the customer and the patient. That afternoon Sidney with his trusted Veterinary Assistant Morag in attendance, was due to perform an operation on a dog. The dog belonged to the renowned Lady Barquentine Crick, this was the first time Lady Crick had used Sidney’s Veterinary skills.
After her previous now retired Vet had pointed his last few loyal customers Sidney’s way, he was most grateful of that but was deserving of it given his solid reputation as a damn good Vet. Lady Barquentine Crick, or Crikey Almighty as some called her, though never within earshot. Lady Crick was a living local legend in the Village of Crinkly Willow, as well as around the nearby rural Town of Smotton Willowby, as were her verbal outburst.
Crikey Almighty feared no one, as a child and teenager through into her mid twenties she had been privy to the very best in private education, private tutoring. As well as attending the best College and University, along with all the other trappings of a titled young Lady. She was naturally of an abnormally high I.Q, her knowledge of languages was quite unsurpassed. So if you were daft enough to get on the wrong side of her you became the recipient of an exceedingly well educated verbal thrashing.
Though not necessarily all in English, or at all. She replaced common curses and expletives with others in a different tongue only punctuated with the merest smattering of English. Lady Crick knew a plethora of foreign profanities. It may begin by you being made aware of what you had done to displease her, but not much else beyond that. One distraught tradesman who was treated to one such linguistically perfect slapping, had remarked the following week that he was mightily relieved in that he had understood almost none of it. Lady Crick had married Bob Chislehurst, or Lord Bob as she lovingly referred to him as. Bob was not exactly of the same stock as his wife, his parents had been rather rich Industrialists, he had always had his own pocket money. Lady and Lord Barquentine Crick had two children, both now grown and parents themselves, they had six Grandchildren. With the children now grown and living in foreign climbs, with all but one of the Grandchildren being away with their parents Lady Crick decided to buy a pup.
Lady Cricks remaining Granddaughter was the youngest and her favourite Grandchild, Her Granddaughter shared her natural intelligence and was a Media Student, flitting between her village flat in Crinkly Willow and her private house in Lincoln where she studied at University. Lady Crick missed her terribly so the dog helped. The dog in question was called Fred, or Fragrance Rupert Einstein De’ville to give him his full correct title. Fred was now a two year old Irish Wolfhound, although he was still young he was easily the size of a Shetland Pony. He could win a scruffy pony competition, paws down. Yet despite his size and youthful exuberance compared to the diminutive Lady Crick, poor Fred seemed to shrink in size and stature at the mere sound of his owners voice. It was if he had an expansive knowledge of foreign swear words and curses in rare or seemingly long lost tongues, he had obviously heard more than a few in his short lifetime. More than a handful directed at him when he misbehaved which he often did.
Between them Sidney and Morag had prepped the operating table and surgical equipment and instruments, this was a guilt edged opportunity in Sidney’s opinion, one that could do no harm considering Lady Barquentine Cricks friends and connections.
