Wolves in Wiltshire!

Villagers believe there are wolves nearby.

 

 

WOLVES IN WILTSHIRE!

 

The bedroom door opened and Avril switched on the light in her son and daughter-in-law’s bedroom. Hector sat up in bed, having been woken up by the light shining on his eyes. “Mother, what are you doing in here at half-past two on a Sunday morning?”

Avril approached the bedroom window and pulled back the curtains, “Listen! Can’t you hear it?”

Hector stared at his mother in disbelief, “What is it I’m supposed to be hearing?”

“There’s a wolf howling out there. Listen, and you’ll hear it.”

The sounds of an animal howling came from outside, not near enough to be identified but resembling a wolf. Avril and Hector sat in silence for a minute or two.

“I’d better go and tell the police. They must be informed,” Avril declared.

A voice from the pillows said, “Don’t waste your time. There aren’t any wolves in Wiltshire. It’s someone being murdered, and by the time you’ve got your hat and coat on, the victim will be well and truly dead. So, go back to bed.” The voice then turned to Hector, and said, “Write down the time of the howling, so that if the police happen to come round we won’t look silly, making an effort to remember, especially after your mother has woken everybody up.”

Avril said to Esther, her daughter-in-law, “Ginevra and the puppy are still asleep, so you don’t have to accuse me of waking everyone up. I’ve only woken you two. Goodnight.” And so saying, Avril left her son’s bedroom and went back to hers.

Avril passed by her granddaughter’s bedroom to look in on her. The brown spaniel puppy was grunting away in its sleep at the foot of Ginevra’s bed. The little girl was fast asleep with her arms holding a fluffy toy, her long hair lying all over the pillow. Avril carefully shut the door and went back to bed. The howling had stopped.

 

At half-past seven, Avril knocked on Hector and Esther’s bedroom door and said, “I’m up and going to the kitchen to prepare the breakfast.”

The couple, who were still in bed, could hardly open their eyes. Hector got up and went to the bathroom first. He finished his ablutions and returned to the bedroom to push his wife into getting up.

“First we get our sleep broken by wolf howls, which of course they aren’t, and now we have to have breakfast at an ungodly hour. The day hasn’t started yet and I’m already worn out,” moaned Esther.

“I’ll go and see if Ginevra’s got up yet,” Hector muttered, as he left the marital bedroom.

Esther got out of bed and headed for the bathroom.

 

At eight o’clock the family was sitting at the kitchen table having breakfast. Porridge was first, followed by cooked food or toast with jam or honey. They all drank fruit juice, and for the adults coffee or tea. Ginevra hadn’t been introduced to these yet.

“You may wonder why we’re all having breakfast so early. The reason is that if Esther is right and a murder has been committed, then the police will be calling round pretty soon to investigate,” Avril declared.

“Who’s been murdered?” Eight year old Ginevra asked.

“We don’t know that anyone has been murdered,” Hector explained. “Your mother just said that last night to get your grandmother to go back to bed.”

 

The weather seen through the warm kitchen window was wet and windy. The landscape was sodden and cheerless. Esther and Hector cleared up the breakfast things between them, while Avril and Ginevra went upstairs to tidy up Ginevra’s bedroom.

The puppy was noisily drinking from a bowl in the laundry room.

A ring at the front doorbell brought them back to reality. Ginevra looking down from her bedroom said, “There are two policemen at the door, and one is a woman.”

Avril took Ginevra’s hand and they went downstairs. Hector opened the front door.

“Good morning. We’re from the local constabulary. We’ve had several reports that wolf howls were heard last night.”

“Yes, we did hear some howls at about half-past two or three o’clock. Would you like to come in?” Hector indicated.

“No thanks we’re only trying to make some sense out of all this, as we all know there are no wolves here. Do you all live here permanently or just the elderly lady?”

“We all live here permanently,” Hector answered.

The police left, and they all watched as the pair strode up to the neighbour’s house.

“Why didn’t you say that Mummy thinks someone has been murdered?” Ginevra asked Hector.

“Just because Mummy says that, doesn’t mean to say that it’s true.”

“Mummy never tells lies, do you, Mummy?”

“No, not in the sense you would understand,” Esther responded.

“Come on, Ginevra, let’s take Goldie for a walk,” Hector suggested to his daughter.

 

Father, suitably dressed for the weather, in black waterproof clothes and a black umbrella, accompanied by a pink dressed Ginevra, set out for a walk in the rain, to make sure Goldie got his exercise. Esther and Avril watched them as they made their way along the pavement till they turned the corner and were out of sight. Ginevra’s brightly coloured clothes contrasted greatly with her father’s sombre ones. The puppy wasn’t so happy at being forced to walk in the rain.

 

That Sunday was as miserable as anyone could have imagined. The whole village had nothing else to talk about. Every other person tried to outdo the next by saying how loud the howls had been, and they were sure that the howling had gone on for hours, when it had not gone on long at all. It was difficult for the police to establish who had really heard the howling and those who didn’t want to lose out by saying that they hadn’t, and had had a good night’s sleep instead.

 

In the woods that were on the outskirts of the village there was nothing but water everywhere. The mud was more water than earth, the leaves on trees were laden with water, which was the main thing in evidence on that Sunday. There had always existed rumours and superstitions about there being strange wild animals inhabiting the woods. People said they knew someone who had seen or been attacked by a ferocious beast. No one alive had ever experienced anything of that nature.

 Rumours and superstitions abound and it’s almost impossible to get them to die down completely.

 

After lunch that Sunday, the village streets were empty of people, and as soon as the last drinker had left, the publican closed the doors, wondering at the same time whether it was worth opening it later on due to the heavy downpour. Everyone was at home having lunch in the warmth and intimacy with their families.

Avril had excelled herself and had prepared a heavy stew with dumplings, followed by lemon meringue pie, and a fruit flan with cream. Hector and Esther gazed in awe at all the food on the table and he asked his mother, “Why have you made so much? Are we expecting guests?”

Avril, who was in the process of dishing up, said, “I got carried away and I just kept on cooking. There’s plenty. If you want more and think this isn’t enough.”

They all did justice to the good food, and when everything was cleared up, they all sat down in the living-room. After a few minutes, Hector and Esther went upstairs for a nap, taking Ginevra with them. Avril followed soon after with the puppy. The same lack of activity was carried out in every household that afternoon to the background of pouring rain.

 

On Monday morning the body of a young woman was found lying face down in a puddle in the woods. She had been stabbed. There was no possibility of keeping it quiet, so the police went public straight away. They also announced that they were interested in talking to her boyfriend. The name of the murdered woman would not be released till the family had been notified.

“Fancy you saying that someone was being murdered. I would never have believed it,” Avril said to Esther when Ginevra had left for school with Hector.

“Don’t make such a big thing of it. I was half asleep when I said it,” Esther responded.

“I’m off to the village to see what’s really happening with the case,” Avril said.

“You mean you’re going to gossip with those likeminded,” Esther said, and stood up.

 

Avril went shopping to the most likely shops where she would be able to pick up the best gossip. Unfortunately the other gossips were in the same situation as Avril. No one knew anything. They were all dependant on the local newspaper and the local television company. Avril had coffee with a few of her cohorts, and then set off for home, no better off for having braved the rain.

 

Ginevra was picked up by Esther after school, and the mother and daughter didn’t say much on the way home. As soon as Ginevra entered the kitchen and saw her grandmother, she rushed up to her and said, “Some of my friends have seen the dead body in the woods.”

Avril and Esther gazed in disbelief at Ginevra’s face. “I’m not sure I believe that,” Esther said.

“They were in the woods yesterday, and didn’t think it was a dead woman.”

“What were they doing in the woods in all that rain, it doesn’t make sense,” Avril declared, thinking that Ginevra’s friends were making fun of her and the others in the class.

“They were collecting mushrooms,” Ginevra replied.

“What? In all that wind and rain,” Esther reacted.

“It’s possible. Some people do go looking for mushrooms in the rain, as no one else is going to do so,” Avril told her daughter-in-law and granddaughter.

“Well, young lady, did your friends tell you anything else about the dead body?” Esther asked Ginevra.

“No, Mummy. I’m hungry. Can I have some milk and biscuits please, Grandma?”

Avril made tea for her and Esther, and Ginevra had her milk and biscuits, which were served in her bedroom, where she went to play with Goldie every wet afternoon after school.

 

That evening two things that were of local interest were announced on the television news. The first one was: that the police were looking for the boyfriend of a deceased girl because they had found a message on her mobile phone which was in her pocket: and that the second one was: that there was no sign of wolves in the area.

 

The new boyfriend of the dead girl had tried to phone her but had got no reply, and had called the police and suggested that her ex-boyfriend might be the person of interest they were looking for.

At the main police station Henry Jackson, the ex-boyfriend of the murdered girl, was talking to the police. The confession was long. According to Jackson, he had contacted his ex-girlfriend, Lynne Miller, on Friday evening by mobile, to meet him on Saturday afternoon. She hadn’t been keen because she’d got herself a new man. This inflamed Jackson’s jealousy, which he kept hidden when they met up at a pub in another village on the other side of the woods. They had each had a drink, and while inside the pub he had kept his temper under control. Lynne said there was nothing to talk about, and she didn’t understand why she had bothered to meet Jackson again, when she had already moved on from him. They had gone outside to get into their respective cars, but as she was about to open her car door, Jackson had crept up on her from behind, and hit her on the back of the head and knocked her out. He then pushed her into her car, and drove out to the woods. By this time she had recovered consciousness and tried to run away. Jackson took a knife out of a pocket and stabbed her several times. When he saw she was dead, he dragged her body further inside the woods to make sure she was out of sight, and left her lying face down in a large pool of water. He drove her car back to the pub car park, locked the car doors, threw the keys down a drain, and got into his own car, and drove home.

 

In spite of it being a Monday evening the local pubs were pretty full of men. The rain was still falling, but the excitement of the finding of a dead body in the woods had animated the local men into leaving their homes to gossip.

“It’s evident that the woods are haunted,” said one of the regulars in the Black Dog pub.

“What ghostly creature is going to stab someone? I don’t believe spirits have that kind of strength,” joined in another man.

“They might, if they’d been drinking a lot,” said another.

“Anyway, my wife is petrified, and I promised her I wouldn’t be gone long, so I’m off now. See you tomorrow,” said the first man.

The pub soon emptied, as it appeared that all the men had promised their wives not to be out too long.

 

The family was in bed that same Monday night. There had been nothing to watch on the television. The police had still not revealed any more about the dead girl or that the ex-boyfriend had been questioned.

Avril had taken a book up with her to read till she could no longer keep her eyes open. Hector and Esther were sound asleep, and Ginevra, in her glory with Goldie and her fluffy toys was also asleep. Avril was on the point of turning off the light, when she heard the howls. She reasoned with herself that it was probably her imagination playing tricks with her. She turned off the light and got as far down inside the bed covers as she could, and in a short while she was also asleep.

She wasn’t the only one. There were others who had heard more howls too, and did what they could do to shut out the sound. The bedroom windows were tightly shut against any noise penetrating sleep. The curtains kept out any light. No one said anything about hearing wolves howling, for fear of being thought an idiot, or worse. They all put the howls down to the howling of the wind across the plain.

 

Tuesday morning and the local television and radio stations were eagerly delivering the information of the identity of the murdered girl, and named the perpetrator of the crime as being her ex-boyfriend. The villagers could now rest in peace, now that they had something concrete to talk about, instead of what they had imagined.

 

Not far from the village there was a small house inhabited by an elderly man and his Alsatian dog. He was talking to his friend, “You don’t know how grateful I am for lending me your wolf to father my dog’s puppies. They are going to grow up to be true guard dogs. That’s just what I wanted. One look at those jaws and those strong paws and the delinquents will be off. The dogs will be able to outrun any other dog, and the jaws will frighten anything and anyone off. Thanks a lot for a job well done,” and the man shook hands with his friend.

 

This was one story the locals never got hold of - not even the police.