The Wendlesham Waye, Evelyn J. Steward [good novels to read in english txt] 📗

The Wendlesham Waye

The Boar's Head stood at the corner of Wendlesham Common, a patch of land that separated two halves of the same village. A br"
"Me?" George was flummoxed. "I never stare. Got too much to do to stare out of windows."
"You were doing it just now," stated Dan Burly, "I seen yer through the window as we come along." He caught George glaring at him but stood his ground. "Pint please," Dan asked," when you've finished glarin'. I was only saying what I saw an' that's the truth."
"There's yer pint." George slammed the glass down so that some of the dark liquid spilled down the side of the glass, leaving a puddle on the bar. Turning to get a bar towel, he mumbled to himself, 'never was staring. Just saw somethin' is all.' He tried to convince himself that the twenty minute period of blankness never happened. The men were jocular for a while but finally left it alone to speak of other things. Tom Moseley's cow with the twisted horn that chased anyone and everyone out of the field; the new by-pass they were threatening to build over at Upper Wenbury and the new warden of St. Malmbury's Church across the way.
George Garman became busy with customers and lost track of their conversation until it turned to the new warden. At which point he strained his ears to hear what they were saying, wondering if it might have something to do with what happened to him earlier that day. A new warden, different man, different shaped person maybe, could be just the thing that caught his eye.
He tried to move further down the bar to where they were seated but got called away to get some meals for a family that had ordered the 'Special'. By the time he had a spare moment, both Dan Burly and Ted Murray had drunk up and were walking out of the door. He was too late to ask questions. Perhaps they would be in later!
Except that for George Garman, later never came. He left the bar around three fifteen; walked across the road, across Pooh Green and up to the west door of St. Malmsbury's Church. The door was left open as he stepped into the cool air and walked up the aisle to the Nave.

It seemed inappropriate, the police said. He was found spread-eagled, head towards the twenty foot cross like he was prostrating himself before God. Except that everyone knew he was not really a religious man. He had often been teased about being able to see God through his windows all day, but not caring for the view.
There were no marks on the body; he had not died of a heart attack or a stroke. In fact, the Coroner was baffled.
George was well liked in the vithe thellage and no one could see anyone wanting to kill him, but if anyone had, then they had not used a weapon of any kind to do it.
The case remained unsolved and was a talking point in the village for years to come.
People came to the village, setting up experiments, holding student meetings: reportes came in their droves. One even wrote a book and many times film crews descended on the area to make programs of the mysterious happenings. A Professor from a famous university came to study the ha[[enings. Wtore a paper about the goings on.
Finally, more than twenty years later, the visitors dwindled to a trickle. The writer moved on having made a good profit iout of his book but the Professor and his wife stayed on and made their home in the village. A new man, sent by the brewery, became the landlord. He dismissed the tales told him by the villagers as mere snippets of drun ken idle chatter. But it had to be said, that he never once stared at te church through the pub windows.

© Copyright. Evelyn J. Steward. June 2003. (added to June 2011)

Publication Date: 06-20-2011

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