The Easter Egg Hunt – IV

Since Ben and Joss Beckett took over The Fair Maid and Falcon, they have had to deal with ghosts, gangsters and well dodgy goings-on. Despite that they have their own family of twin daughters and dogs, and a fabulous ‘found family’ of friends. Life seems to be going well when…

Two days later, just on opening time, I was in the office inputting V.A.T. details when Ed poked his head around the door.
“Gent out here requesting a moment of your time.”
“Do we know him?”
“We do not.”
“Then I’ll come and speak to him in the bar. And can you have someone find Ben?”
“He’s waiting for you out there.”
“Okay. I’m on my way.”
It being early, the bar was sparsely populated. A couple of tables of old-timers playing cribbage before they ordered their dinners, and a small group of hefty farmers playing hooky comprised our clientele until the lunchtime crowd started arriving.
The gentleman wanting a word stood out like a sore thumb among them, even though he was entirely unremarkable in appearance. He was narrowly rodentine of feature, pink-skinned, conservatively-dressed and fussy in demeanour, making me think of a rural studies teacher on a rare day off. However, I have learned not to be taken in by appearances and I kept my guard firmly in place.
“Mrs Beckett?”
I nodded, indicating a window table, and he preceded me without comment. Our longest-serving waitress, Crystal, came towards us with her hands full of reserved signs.
“Is this one taken?”
She consulted her tablet.
“Not until one o’clock.”
I held out my hand for the sign. “We won’t be long I’m sure and I’ll bus the table and put this on it when we’re done.”
She moved away and We sat down. Ben sloped over to join us and my new acquaintance looked a little alarmed. I smiled.
“This is my husband. And you are?”
“My name is Smith. John Smith.”
I felt my eyebrows shoot up into my hairline and he laughed self consciously.
“Improbable but true. My father has a peculiar sense of humour.”
I let that pass and waited in silence for his next move. Ben opened his mouth to say something but I put a hand on his thigh and he subsided. I watched Mr Smith steadily, and he coloured to the tips of his ears.
“This is a little difficult.”
“Spit it out, man.” Ben made no effort to hide his irritation.
“What I have to say pertains to a certain young lady whose behaviour in your establishment has caused her family some embarrassment. However, her grandfather is the kind who believes in family first, and he is seriously concerned by a popular video showing his grandchild in a very poor light.”
I tapped Ben’s thigh to let him know I had this.
“And this concerns me because?”
He sighed. “It concerns you because he has been looking for some additional muscle to add to those with whom she normally associates.”
“To come and teach us a lesson?”
He sighed. “Sadly. However it has come to his notice that you are in some way connected to a family by the name of Lovell so he’s backing off.”
“Doesn’t want to get in the wrong side of Big Cliff?” Ben was sardonic.
“No. Apparently he did so once and the bloody nose he incurred has persuaded him to change tack.”
“And who is on his list for chastisement now?” Ben’s voice had quite the martial tone of a hunting horn.
Mr Smith looked truly uncomfortable. “Mr Proudly is offering a considerable sum of money to have the young lady his granddaughter slapped, physically assaulted. My father refused the contract, but there are many far less scrupulous concerns out there. Which is why I am sitting here squirming.”
“Amos Proudly?” I asked.
“That is his name. Do you know of him?”
Ben looked puzzled.
“Remember the crowd that tried to disrupt Danilo and Bethan’s wedding?”
He showed his teeth. “Oh yes. Now I remember the family.”
I rubbed my hand against his denim-clad thigh. “You want to have a word with Danilo?” I said.
“I do.”
“You do that, and also warn Morgan’s dad, while I explain to Mr Smith here what a bad idea it would be to go after her.”
Ben went and I looked at Mr Smith, assessing how best to phrase the warning I was going to give him. In the end I went for straight from the shoulder.
“Are you aware of Brown Brothers Security?”
He blinked. “I am. Why?”
“The girl Amos Proudly is trying to arrange a beating for is Mark Brown’s daughter.”
I had the satisfaction of seeing Mr Smith’s complexion turn from country solicitor ruddy to the colour of cold porridge.
He opened and closed his mouth a few times, but before he had himself together, the bar door opened so fast that it banged back against the wall with a fearsome crash. The three young men who stood framed by centuries old oak obviously thought themselves hard. And frightening. All carried pickaxe handles and the biggest and proddiest slapped the heavy wood against the palm of his hand.
“Anybody not wanting to take a hiding has two minutes to exit via the back door,” he snarled.
Nobody moved, which seemed to unnerve the young spokesthug, whose voice rose by a couple of octaves.
“Ain’t you lot listening? We’re about to smash this place to smithereens and that includes anyone what’s still here when we get started.”
A large and phlegmatic local looked up from his pint. “Piss off.”
Thug one leapt forward, only to measure his length on the flagstone floor. The foot he tripped over belonged to another of our most regular customers, a sprightly eighty-year-old with no time for what he saw as the softness of modern young men.
“In my day,” he cackled, “us took our beefs outside and settled ‘em with our fists.”
Thug one made to roll over, but found himself eye to eye with an irritated German Shepherd. He took a firm grasp of his pick handle but an even more irritated Ben arrived, and kicked him precisely in the elbow. He dropped his weapon. It is entirely probable that his two chums would have rushed to his aid, but they had their own troubles in the shape of Jed from the market garden and his dog, Clancy. Jed had one would-be hard boy by the back of his hoodie and was holding him so his toes barely touched ground, while Clancy had his jaws around the arm of the third guy and was rumbling deep in the barrel of his chest.
“Finoula did smell danger. She do want a word with these here if someone can go and make sure she gets here safe.”
Crystal set out at a gallop.
“Shall we move this to the office?” I was proud of the calmness of my voice.
Jed chuckled. “Outside’d be better.”
He turned around carrying his prisoner as easily as if he was no more than a child.
“Clancy fetch,” he said and his huge lurcher dragged a whimpering youngster along with them.
Ben didn’t wait to be told to fetch, hauling his victim onto his feet and herding him out of the door. As they passed me I heard Ben speaking in a softly implacable voice.
“Please give me a reason to beat the crap out of you sonny. I’m in such a bad mood right now and I don’t want to take it home to the missis.”
The sound of a would-be hard boy swallowing was louder than Ben’s voice.

There will be more from Joss, Ben and their friends, courtesy of Jane Jago, next week, or you can catch up with their earlier adventures in Who Put Her In and Who Pulled Her Out.