Free Whispers in the Village by Rebecca Shaw

sleep.
    The cup of tea she’d made for her had gone cold before she woke. When she did wake, Sheila made a fresh pot and they sat chatting over organization, lists, codes, coloured stickers and files until Sheila’s mind was awash with confusion.
    ‘I’ll think about it tomorrow. I’ll go home and you go to bed. It’s almost ten; Gilbert won’t be long. Or would you like me to stay till he gets home?’
    Rather too hastily, Louise said no she needn’t. He would be home soon.
    For once in her life Sheila said, ‘If there’s anything you need to confide, I shan’t tell Gilbert or your dad. Just between you and me, you know.’ She stood on tiptoe and kissed Louise’s cheek. ‘Don’t forget.’
    As Sheila drove down Little Derehams High Street, she spotted Gilbert driving home. They both pulled up and wound down their windows.
    Gilbert called out anxiously, ‘Everything all right, Sheila?’
    ‘Of course. I’ve been getting Louise to show me how to organize these events for the W.I.’
    ‘Right! They’ll be a success, I’m sure.’
    ‘Can I put your name down for the midnight skinny-dipping?’
    ‘Certainly,’ Gilbert laughed. ‘They’ll sponsor me at work, I’m sure.’
    ‘Good! Be seeing you. I’ll give you a sponsorship form very soon. Goodnight!’
    ‘Goodnight to you, Sheila. Ron OK?’
    ‘He’s fine.’
    There, she proved she could keep a secret by not telling Gilbert she was worried about Louise. So, her first official volunteer for skinny-dipping. They’d made a start.

Chapter 6
     
    The very next name to go on the skinny-dipping list was Dean Jones. He’d met up with Sheila in the Store and asked her to include him. That was his first major decision about his change of lifestyle. Since his initial visit to church, when he’d attended simply to see Anna, he’d made a few more decisions, but these were to remain secret.
    One: he couldn’t get her out of his mind.
    Two: he might come from peasant stock, as his tutor would have said, but he had been to Cambridge and that meant something in this world; he couldn’t be kicked into touch as easily as a farm labourer could be.
    Three: he needed another suit and some smart casual clothes.
    Four: he had to find ways of being in touch with her without making his feelings too obvious. He’d no actual experience in the ways of a lover but if he was in touch with her then surely opportunities would arise.
    The final decision he had made was that neither his mother, nor Barry, should know how he was feeling. They would be horrified. So was he, come to that. But immediately the sensation was obliterated by his overwhelming fascination with her. He had always been one who could face the consequences of his actions, and he knew there would be serious consequences, if not downright scandal. The thought of it filled him with elation and terror all at the same time. Consequently Dean was either full of himself or wallowing in despair, and his swinging moods did not go unnoticed by his mother.
    This particular Saturday he drove to Culworth. His mission? New clothes. Michelle had begged a lift but he’d refused; he did not want his bossy sister dictating what he should buy. Still less did he want her to have one of her renowned intuitive moments and realize he had a woman in mind.
    His allowance from Mr Fitch’s education fund, paid to him while he was at Cambridge, had always been in excess of his requirements so besides his salary from Neville Neal he had a nest egg into which he would dip. The smartest man’s shop in Culworth was A.J.P. Tindales. Dean looked in the window for a while then opened the door and entered the hushed portals.
    In a whirlwind buying frenzy in which purchases were made at the snap of a finger, he emerged an hour and a half later with two new business suits and several casual clothes. The cost was astronomical. But if he was to succeed he had to look the part. He raced for the multi-storey car park as fast as he could without