A Village Dilemna (Turnham Malpas 09) Read Online Free PDF

‘While you are the leader of our Church Scouts I will not tolerate you openly living with Georgie. I know it’s not in line with current thinking, but there you are. Added to which, in the eyes of the boys you would become the object of unseemly mirth and sniggering, and with it all the hard work you’ve put into establishing the largest and most successful Scout group in the county would be gone, never to be regained. You are brilliant as leader, I could challenge anyone to find a Scout leader better than you. Don’t lose all that, for your sake or the boys’.’
Dicky pottered about in the cleaning cupboard tidying this, reorganising that, until he could find nothing more to tidy. He gave a great sigh. Peter always saw the greater good, the long term, what was best for all concerned and after all he did have to be grateful to him for his very life. If it hadn’t been for Peter being so very fit, Bryn would have had him over the top of the tower and he, Dicky Tutt, would have been strawberry jam. It struck him in a flash. Of course, that was it! Insist on prosecution. Of course! That would get rid of him sharpish. Bryn would be discredited for ever, Georgie could get a divorce, no sweat, and they could marry and he could live at the pub … Why had he allowed Peter to persuade him not to prosecute?
    He perched on a case of carpet shampoo in the dark and his heart sank. He knew full well why. It was as Peter had said at the time, the whole story of Bryn, and Georgie and Bel would be open to public view and to distortion by the press. Let’s face it, thought Dicky, I did torment Bryn with all the tricks I got up to. Anyway, Peter was right. It really wasn’t in his nature to want revenge. He’d got Georgie’s love and that counted for a lot. But hiding behind her skirts by leaving her to deal with Bryn … he had to laugh, though – pouring the drinks over him; what a woman!
    ‘Dicky! Can you come?’
That was Alan wanting more help. He got up, shut the cupboard door and marched into the bar with a grin plastered on his face. ‘Who’s next?’
    It was Bryn, a very smart Bryn. Dressed more suitably for the Caribbean than Turnham Malpas, he certainly made heads turn, no doubt about that. Dicky steeled himself not to go white at the implied threat of Bryn’s presence. ‘What can I get you, Bryn?’
    ‘Whisky on the rocks … please.’ He dug out his wallet crammed with notes, peeled off a twenty and said, ‘Take for that tray of drinks that got spilled as well.’
    ‘Thanks.’
    Bryn threw the whisky down his throat and asked for another. He took that to a table and sat down to wait. It unnerved Dicky having to work with Bryn’s eyes on him all the time. He felt like a goldfish swimming round and round its bowl, with a cat poised for whisking him out with its paw if he swam too close to the top of the water.
    Bryn sat there until closing time, then went to the bar and asked Georgie if he could have a word.
    ‘I can’t leave all this mess. Wait ten minutes.’
    ‘I’ll give you a hand.’
    ‘No, thanks.’ But he did. He collected the empties and put them in the wheelie bin. He found a cloth and wiped a few tables, he collected some crisp bags off the floor and finally got out the cloth bag, which they’d always used to put the takings in the safe until the morning.
    Georgie snatched it from him. ‘That’s my job. Go in the back, the door’s unlocked.’
    She and Dicky said a quiet goodnight to each other by the outside door. ‘I won’t let him persuade me, honestly, Dicky. I will not have him back. Believe me.’
‘Are you sure?’
    ‘Yes, I’m sure. I’ll let you know tomorrow.’
    ‘Right. I’ll come straight after communion. Right.’
    Georgie smiled at him. Their eyes were on a level and she could look straight into his and loved him so. She said, ‘Right. I’m sorry about all this, but at least we might get a chance to sort things out. Goodnight, love.’
    ‘Goodnight.’
    Georgie