18. THE TRUNCHEON

They get interrupted in the night by an irate Tom Coppleby

It might have been a peaceful night with two gently-breathing twins enjoying a childhood adventure in the Land of Nod and their mother with a colleague celibately snoring in the bed at the other end of the caravan, but in the early hours all hell got let loose.

It started with a knocking at the door that made the entire van shake and then a voice, loud and recognisably Tom Coppleby’s, demanding to be let in or else.

“What the hell?” groaned Sergeant Peter Jenson, and then he saw where he was, remembered the several glasses of red wine he had enjoyed prior to bed time and muttered “sorry, ma’am.”

Rosie was in her chosen night attire, which meant she was naked, and Peter might have spent time enjoying the sight of her for a second time that night had it not been for the insistent knocking.

“I’m not having this!” declared Rosie, and without giving the least bit of thought to her state of undress she leapt with remarkable agility across Peter and opened the door.

“What’s the noise, mummy,” came Jill’s voice from the twin’s bunks at the back of the caravan.

“Is it dinosaurs?” came Jack’s equally sleep-ridden voice.

“Try to sleep while I sort this out,” called Rosie, and she stood in her doorway and glared at Tom Coppleby.

The night was pleasantly warm still and she was quite oblivious to the sight she presented the older man with, though he took a step back and stared back, mouth open revealing at least two gold teeth.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she asked in what those who knew her would have called her most dangerous voice. It wasn’t loud, in fact it was so quiet Tom had to lean forwards to catch it properly, which put him at an instant disadvantage in front of the Amazonian-style splendour that was an enraged Rosie Baur.

“Don’t you know what the time is?” she continued, still dangerously quiet, “and aren’t you aware that I’ve got two ten year old children who need their sleep? Have you no sense or respect for others?”

“My vans busted,” said Tom when he had recovered the ability to speak. “And you’re undressed,” he added, as if that was sufficient explanation for his sudden noisy arrival at her caravan.

“You knew your van was in a mess. You even knew your wife was dead, which seems to upset you less than the condition of your caravan. And if I’m undressed it’s because it’s a lovely warm night and I don’t need to keep warm!”

“I need a bed,” he blurted out, “and you’ve got a spare. I know you’ve got a spare, being a woman on her own in a big thing like this, and me a poor old man!”

“It’s not a big thing as you know, it’s much smaller than yours, for goodness’ sake, and anyway I’ve got a guest, so I’m full up,” intoned Rosie wearily, “and I suggest your spend the rest of the night inside your own van which, besides having been slightly damaged by an explosion, is still in quite good condition.”

“My June ain’t there...”

“and tomorrow we’ll have a nice long discussion about what happened to your first wife...” continued Rosie. “You know, the one you left in the caravan in the woods.”

“You b***h!”

“Because there was quite a lot of interesting information on a computer disc that fell out of one of your cupboards and just happened to fit the old computer we found in that sad old caravan in the woods, with names and al;l sorts of other things on it...”

“You effin’ b***h! You should be arrested, parading naked like that in public and blaming innocent old men for stuff!”

“And we’ll have that conversation at the police station is Seaholme where I believe you’ve already made a few explanations about your current situation,” concluded Rosie, “now off you trot, Mr Coppleby, or my sergeant here will slap his handcuffs on you and tie you to the railings by the gate until you simmer down!”

Peter Jenson appeared behind her, his face a mask of authoritarian severity. “That I will, Mr Coppleby,” he said, “and you’d be best to do as you’r etold because I won’t make it comfortable for you. Why, at your age you might even find it … need I use the word fatal?”

“Effin’ b***h!”

It seemed as if Tom’s vocabulary had been exhausted and he was about to start his senseless tirade all over again, but rather than continue with a row he was bound to lose he thought better of it and stormed off.

“I’ll die in my van anyway, ‘cause I left the gas fire full on and the gas will have run out long since, so if I get pneumonia we’ll know what naked b***h to blame!” was his offensive farewell as he disappeared into the black of night.

“What was that all about?” asked Peter when they were back in the van and the twins had been settled for a second time.

“They should have given him a cell for the night,” murmured Rosie, “though I don’t suppose you could call him homeless. The explosion left his van practically untouched!”

“I thought the young metal detecting bloke reckoned to have turned the gas taps on,” yawned Peter, “and here we have an angry old man claiming to have done the same.”

“I noticed that,” agreed Rosie, “but come on, Peter, get back into bed and tell me that I’m adorable before we get back to sleep.”

“You are adorable, ma’am!”

“I told you. I’m Rosie when I’m on holiday.”

“Rosie, then.”

“And I might let you kiss me good night, to soothe my nerves after that ill-mannered interruption.”

“Do you think the old fool will come back again tonight?”

“No, there would be no point. Look, it’s well past two in the morning and I’m getting more and more wide awake. Do you fancy a quick coffee?”

From the rear of the van came, “Can I have one, mum?”

“Coffee keeps you awake, Jack.”

“It’s not Jack, it’s Jill.”

“No it isn’t, then! Take no notice of her, mum.”

“Both of you get to sleep before Sergeant Jenson gets his truncheon out and wallops you both over the head with it!”

“All right, then. Goodnight, mum, sleeping with a copper!”

There was a few moments of silence and Peter grinned at Rosie. “That worked,” he whispered.

She giggled almost silently. “You can put your truncheon away now, Sergeant,” she breathed.

“Oh .. oh dear … I’m sorry … you noticed…?”

“I notice most things, Sergeant, you must have learned that by now. So do you want me to help you find somewhere to put it, or can you manage on your own?”

“Ma’am! I mean, Ma’am … Rosie … oh dear, oh bloody dear….”

TO BE CONTINUED…

© Peter Rogerson 07.04.17