Free Trouble in the Village (Tales from Turnham Malpas) by Rebecca Shaw Page B

chance Tom had already caught the little horrors. She’d find him and casually introduce the subject. What she didn’t want to happen was to come across a decapitated mouse still in a trap awaiting Tom’s ministrations. Maybe even with the cheese still in its mouth. Or did the trap smack shut before it had actually – No, she wouldn’t think about that.
    Tom was getting rid of the cobwebs on the underside of the lych-gate. ‘Good morning, Lady Templeton, overcast today, isn’t it? I’ve never seen so many cobwebs as this in my life. It must be a real good summer for spiders.’ He stood in her way energetically brushing with a soft, long-handled brush. ‘They’re sticky, you know.’
    Muriel kept well out of the way of any spiders running from Tom’s murderous intentions. ‘Tom. Talking of spiders, have you caught any mice?’
    Tom, hands behind his back, crossed his fingers. ‘Two the first night. None since, so I reckon we’ve got the all-clear.’
    Muriel put a hand to her heart and said, ‘Oh, I’m so relieved. I was dreading … I know you’ll think I’m silly but …’
    ‘Not at all. I see you’ve got your brass box with you. I wouldn’t go in just yet, I’ve been spraying in the church for spiders too. Best let the air get clear a bit first. Not good for the lungs.’ He held up a spray can with evil pictures of spiders and ants on it. ‘Brilliant stuff this, if you have any problems, but very potent for the breathing. Stand clear, I’m using it on here now.’
Muriel stood away and watched him squirting the spray on the old beams. He stood on the seat at one side and sprayed right into the corners, and then stood on the opposite seat and did the same. Tom appeared to Muriel to over-egg the pudding a little but she supposed there was no point in doing it at all if one didn’t do it well. A waft of the spray reached her and she waved it away. It was certainly potent. She’d better not go in the church for a while.
    ‘I’ll sit on the seat by the old oak and wait ten minutes.’ Muriel planted her box beside her and set herself to wait. She checked her watch because she was never any good at guessing the passing of time. Twenty minutes to eleven. Right! Seated there Muriel looked like an elderly lady taking a nap, but she didn’t feel elderly and she most certainly wasn’t taking a nap. She was admiring the old church and thinking how lucky they all were to have one kept so beautifully. Tom had gone round to the side door, and out of it, through half-closed eyes, she saw Kenny Jones emerge.
    The sight was so startling! She couldn’t believe what she saw. Kenny Jones coming out of church! It was such a shock to her, but it didn’t appear to be a shock to Tom for they were talking quite amicably. Tom took his cap off and scratched his red hair, Kenny wagged a finger at him and then waved goodbye and came down the side of the church, wearing his old navy anorak, which Muriel knew would tell a rare old tale if it could speak. Wearing an anorak on such a humid day.
    If Muriel wasn’t mistaken he glanced round as he came out into the open as though looking for someone, or was he checking no one was watching? Well, that was understandable: considering how many years it was since he’d been in there he’d surely be embarrassed for anyone to see him. Muriel guessed that the last time Kenny had visited the church was when he was at the village school, and that must be at least twenty years ago.
Kenny marched briskly down the church path. Muriel pretended to be asleep. As she heard the lych-gate creak shut she opened her eyes just a slit and through the veil of her eyelashes glimpsed him marching towards Jacks Lane to go past the school, down Shepherds Hill and home.
    When her ten minutes were up Muriel wended her way up the path and into church. It was only when she was applying the brass polish to the wings of the lectern eagle that it occurred to her that Kenny Jones hadn’t given a thought