Midsomer Maiden |1| The Trials of Midsomer

8. Dead Man's Eleven

Many expeditions have been taken over the years to places all over the world that test the extremes of man's incredible ability to survive no matter what is thrown at him. Antarctica, for one, or the Arctic circle. The depths of the Sahara desert, for another. But no destination was quite so hostile in the eyes of Tom Barnaby as any small village in Midsomer.

"Just along here," Joyce was saying as she directed him through the roads of Fletcher's Cross. "It should be coming up on the right. Ah, here." He parked up, and all three of them got out to look at the cottage in question.

"It's beautiful," said Cully truthfully.

Joyce nodded her agreement. "What do you think, Tom?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You want to know what I think?"

Immediately, she narrowed her eyes. "No. No, don't say anything."

"I could just see you here, Dad," Cully teased. "Join the local cricket team, go out and bat for Fletcher's Cross every Saturday."

"Be careful what you say, young lady," Tom warned. "This is all your fault." As Cully laughed, Joyce rang the doorbell, and a pleasant, smiling woman answered the door—a Mrs. Christine Cooper.

"Mr. and Mrs. Barnaby?"

"That's us," Joyce confirmed.

"Oh, do come in!" The sounds of the cricket game on the village green reached them, and Christine stopped. "That's a lovely sound, isn't it, the bat against the ball?"

Joyce smiled politely. "Very English."

"Oh, yes," Christine agreed. "Long summer afternoons spent in peace and harmony. I always say that if Jesus had played a sport, I'm sure it would have been cricket. Come in." And as she led them through into the house, Tom and Cully shared a look, trying not to laugh.

***

Over on the pitch, young Charles Jennings was batting alongside Robert Cavendish on the Fletcher's Cross team. Cavendish hit a single and began to run. "Yes!"

"No!" Charles shouted.

"Run, man, run!"

"No, wait!"

With Charles remaining at his mark, Cavendish had no choice but to try and run back. The ball came hurtling over his head, and the wicket keeper struck him out to the cheers of the fielding team.

Charles winced. "Sorry."

***

"And here we are, back again in the living room," Christine said, finishing her tour of the cottage. "There's not a lot to see, I'm afraid."

"It's lovely," Joyce assured her.

"Thank you, you're very kind." Just then, a tall man came in through the French doors. "Oh, here's Colin, my husband. This is Mr. and Mrs. Barnaby, and, er..." She faltered.

"Cully." She smiled politely. "Nice to meet you."

"I'm sorry I couldn't be here," Colin told them. "I've been up at the church. It's Whit Sunday tomorrow, of course."

"Colin does the altar arrangements," Christine added.

"So, how do you like the house?" he asked.

"Oh, it's very nice," Joyce told them.

Colin nodded. "Oh, yes, we've been blessed. But... it's time to move on."

"What is your line of work, Mr. Cooper, if you don't mind me asking?" Tom asked.