Page 5 of Murder in the Winter Woods
‘Summer’s the worst,’ said Nicky. ‘You expect a lot of cars, and you know to be careful. But there’s been an influx this last couple of weeks, with the Christmas decorations and lights going up all over the region. It’ll be busy for a bit, with people coming for the Christmas markets all over the Cotswolds. There’s something on almost every day. We can expect a lot of visitors.’
‘They’re a menace, that’s what they are,’ came an angry voice from somewhere behind Julia.
Flo, the proprietor of the Buttered Scone, held up her hands in a ‘hold on a moment’ gesture. ‘Well, not exactly. To be fair, the people that come to Berrywick are mostly very nice, and they do bring a lot of business into the village.’ At least half of Flo’s customers – the high-spending, salmon-eating half – were out-of-town visitors. Some cross faces turned towards her and a low grumble could be heard.
‘I’m not supporting bad driving, and I’m not saying we do nothing about it,’ Flo said quickly. ‘We need to take action. We do. I’m just saying…let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We need the tourists too.’
Without them, Julia knew Flo would be trying to make a living off the likes of Johnny Blunt occupying a prime table and eking out a coffee and a scone for two hours on a Tuesday morning. Many of the other shopkeepers, likewise. There were one or two heads bobbing in support of Flo’s point. Kevin, whose job as manager of the Swan also depended in good part on the tourist pound (or dollar, or yen, or euro) stepped back into the fray. ‘I am recommending that we form a sub-committee to look at road safety and what we can do to encourage better driving.’
His suggestion calmed the crowd somewhat, and drew some approving grunts. Kevin seized the moment and said, ‘I’m suggesting we ask a small number of residents, and a liaison from the local police, to come up with some suggestions to keep Berrywick’s roads safe. Now, if everyone’s in agreement, I’ll need some volunteers, or some recommendations for people to serve on the committee.’
Will Adamson’s hand went up. This was no surprise. He was a man who sought power, status and influence, even in minor ways. ‘I am familiar with the bylaws and regulations, of course, being in the property business,’ he said. ‘My schedule is very full, and my daughter will probably kill me for volunteering…’ He gave a rueful smile, which drew some restrained tittering. ‘But this is an important issue, a life-and-death issue, and if you think I might be useful, I would be glad to be of service.’
There was a muttering of thanks and one or two claps. Will beamed modestly.
It’s not as if you’re about to donate a kidney, thought Julia, and immediately felt ashamed of herself for her bad grace.
‘Thank you, Will. I think I speak for everyone when I say you’d be very useful,’ said Kevin.
Julia thought Flo should be on the committee. She was smart, she knew what was what, and she had an eye on the tourist market as well as the locals’ welfare. Julia put up her hand to suggest it.
‘Hello, I…’
‘Thank you, Julia, we’d be pleased to have you on board.’
‘Oh, no. Actually Kevin, I was going to put Flo’s name forward.’
‘Excellent idea. You and Flo and Will, that sounds like a good team.’
‘Well, I meantinsteadof me…’
Julia’s explanation went unheard, as Kevin continued, ‘And DC Walter Farmer, will you be our police liaison?’
Walter nodded.
‘And you, of course, Kevin,’ said Will. ‘You’ll be on the sub-committee, I take it?’
Kevin agreed. ‘Right you are, that’s sorted. Thanks all. I have Tuesday off. Is Tuesday afternoon any good for you all for our first meeting? Shall we say three? We can meet at the Swan if you like. I can probably rustle us up a cup of tea.’
Murmurs of general assent rumbled from the other members of the road safety sub-committee. There was a brief moment when Julia might have cleared up the misunderstanding, and resisted more forcefully. She dithered. She did have the time and if she could be useful…But did she want another responsibility on her plate?
‘Excellent. Now, let’s move on to the next order of business.’
Julia took her little pocket diary from her handbag and removed the pencil from its holder. She turned to the page for Tuesday and, with a small internal sigh, wrote:
Road Safety Committee, 3 p.m.
4
Kevin had booked a small function room for the first meeting of the road safety committee, and was already there with a tray of tea, as promised, and a very nice-looking plate of sandwiches – egg and cress, cheese and tomato, and cucumber – cut into quarters. Julia’s mouth watered at the sight of them. Why were little triangle sandwiches so much more delicious than regular sandwiches? Probably because everyone’s mums had made them for childhood birthdays. The nostalgia was delectable.
Flo came in, followed a minute later by Will. Kevin was pouring the tea when DC Walter Farmer arrived, slightly pink and puffing. ‘Sorry I’m late,’ he said. ‘A lot going on.’
‘By less than two minutes,’ said Kevin, consulting his watch. ‘Don’t worry, mate. Come and sit, catch your breath. Tea?’
‘Yes, please, I’m parched. I had to rush to an appointment. Didn’t even have time for lunch.’ He eyed the sandwiches.
‘Help yourself,’ said Kevin, nudging the plate towards him. ‘The Swan’s finest sarnies.’
