Wheildon

in the early days our neighbour, who was a policeman, kept us in the loop.  nothing happened in the village without the eyes and ears of ‘the force’ knowing what was potting.  there were few burglar bars to be seen, and no walls or electric fences.  i don't think we could have locked our cottage if we had wanted to.  some of the local rogues who could not resist the odd break-in over a weekend never changed their modus operandi and, to their surprise, were arrested first thing on a monday morning once the deed was discovered.

for example, one exceptionally cunning thief habitually used a short, round, metal spike to poke a neat little hole in the pane of glass next to a window fastener every time he had the urge to borrow something without permission.  he could never understand how the police could round him up so fast, as he took great care not to leave any fingerprints during the operation.

the same lad had a passion for quality and colour.  on one sortie into a friend’s cottage he could not resist removing a sky blue and white ski jacket.  in this, he could strike a jaunty figure on the corner outside osman’s general store with his mates.  having hidden his prize for a week to let the dust settle, he deemed it safe to wear one saturday morning in greyton.  as he emerged from ons winkel our friend anne, a weekender, was in my office telling me about the robbery.  her husband had had twelve ski jackets made for a conference.  the jackets were sky blue and white, and his company logo was embroidered on the front pocket.  i casually asked whether the jacket she was describing was anything like the one being worn by the lad outside the shop opposite.  a wave to greyton's cruising constabulary resulted in protestations of innocence as he was invited to take a ride with them to the police station.

he was shocked to hear that he had been arrested on suspicion of theft.  he had bought the jacket and it was his.  the difficulty in explaining the company logo helped him remember that he might have found the jacket as opposed to buying it.  the small production quantity of twelve proved a turning point, and he remembered planning to return it as soon as the owner could be found.

i remember another incident involving children.  our neighbour the sergeant was talking to ginny and me outside die smouswinkel on a beautiful greyton morning.  we were standing under the oaks when the police radio crackled into life.  the sergeant listened and then explained the problem to us.  there had been a very minor incident involving little people.  the sergeant knew immediately who the children were and which one of them was responsible for the misdemeanour.  i asked how he could make such a snap judgement without seeing the evidence.  he smiled and told us to “wag hier”.  he leapt into his van and roared off.  within minutes he was back with a vanload of kids, all looking sorry for themselves.  he climbed out and stood next to the van, where the kids could watch and listen.  with a wink he explained in detail what had happened.  he let this sink in for a minute and then pointed an accusing finger at the most unlikely little fellow.  “it was him.”  the offended party was having none of this and leapt up, in turn pointing his finger at the genuine guilty party.  “dit was hom!”  a chorus of shrill voices confirmed the sergeant's suspicions.  the innocent were released and scampered off happily.

we felt a little sorry for the lone figure in the back of the van.  as we walked away he was being given the option of facing the station commander or his father.  he chose the station commander.

wise lad.  his father had a reputation.