A Matter for the Jury Read Free Page B

much care about that. They needed a drink, and the Oliver Cromwell was convenient. It would be a short walk to the end of Wellington Street, then a right turn on to Priory Road, leading, through a metal turnstile gate, to the seemingly endless expanse of meadow which formed the bank of the river until you reached the fen.
    The decision to pay a visit to the Rosemary D that Saturday night had been taken. Both knew what it meant, and both knew there would be no turning back. Separately, they had taken advice in advance of the occasion. Frank’s elder brother Jim, who was independent and living in a flat of his own, showed him how to prepare and put on a condom. Jennifer’s elder sister, Marion, who was married, warned her not to expect too much of the first time, and gave her tips on reviving him for the second session which, she assured Jennifer, would be far better. Jennifer did not tell Marion about the Rosemary D . It was not exactly the setting she had imagined for her first time. But things were as they were; she genuinely liked Frank; and a comfortable boat on the river seemed romantic enough. She put on her smartest blouse and skirt, and a new warm cardigan against the cold and, as always, she wore around her neck the large gold cross and chain her grandmother had given her when she was confirmed.
    Frank went to the bar and ordered a pint and a half of bitter. Billy Cottage served him and then watched as they sat together at a table by the fireplace, holding hands, but talking very little.
    The landlord called for last orders at 10.30. They took a few minutes to finish their drinks. Frank checked his pocket for the condoms for the fiftieth time that evening. They put on their coats and hats and left the pub. The night was bitterly cold, but they had anticipated this, and had warm coats, scarves and gloves. There was no question of undressing very much on the boat – it would be far too cold. That was a drawback. But on the other hand, the coldness of the night was likely to discourage potential rivals for the boat from venturing out. Indeed, they had every expectation of being the only visitors. They might be able to stay for longer than an hour, if the cold was not too much for them. They walked briskly towards the meadow. Billy Cottage left the Oliver Cromwell almost immediately and followed, keeping a safe distance behind.
    At the end of Priory Road Mavis Brown was preparing to lock up the corner shop for the night. The shop faced into town down Wellington Street. Mavis was just nineteen, and the shop belonged to her widowed father. She lived with him in the flat upstairs and worked alongside him in the shop. They sold newspapers, magazines, sweets, cigarettes and tobacco and a small selection of groceries and household items. The shop was not officially open at that late hour on a Saturday. Mavis had been doing some stock-taking over the weekend and had worked later than she had intended. But she saw Frank and Jennifer peering in through the lighted window and, being a kind and helpful girl, she took the trouble to open up long enough to sell them two packets of Woodbines. Billy Cottage paused until they emerged from the shop and continued walking. Mavis was just about to switch the lights off and go upstairs when Billy passed the shop. She did not know him, but she was at the large shop window and could not help seeing him. There was a street light on the corner. She had a clear view. She noticed that, despite the cold, he had his raincoat open. He was wearing a dark jacket and a red and white checked shirt. He had a dark woollen hat on his head. His heavy brown shoes looked as though they had not been cleaned for a long time. She even heard him singing in a cheerful tone.
    When I was bound apprentice in famous Lincolnshire,
    Full well I served my master for nigh on seven years…
    Mavis probably wouldn’t have paid much attention to that, except that she was sure she had heard the same song just