The photograph 6/9

The editor of the Holmwood Advertiser was almost literally rubbing his hands with glee. The story about witchcraft in the village was boosting his circulation nicely. Why he’d made it sound so convincing that he was even beginning to believe in it himself. Not only that, but it was exclusive to his paper.

The opposition in the form of the Holmwood Informer hadn’t made any comment so far, except to ridicule what they had called ‘the superstitious beliefs of a small minority in the area.’ Well the picture he’d been given of the pond would show them!

Now he was only waiting for an answer from the yachting magazine, then he’d know the type of boat and should easily be able to find the supplier and the name of their customer. Then he’d be able to name names and bring the whole episode to a stunning conclusion. Who knows, it could even make the National Dailies, then he’d really be in the money!

One of the messenger boys knocked on his door to bring him the reply from the yachting magazine. They’d very kindly taken the trouble to do all the work for him and surprise surprise! The only boat of that type in the area belonged to the father of the young lady who had given that fantastic conjuring show at the local school.

It was the work of a moment to find his address; now if he went to the house just before Mr. Bell got back from work, he might catch them off guard before they’d had time to cook up some sort of explanation.

It was Jennifer Jane who happened to answer the door that afternoon.

“Good afternoon young lady. I believe your father is a keen yachtsman. I’m thinking of buying a boat and I wondered if he would able to let me look at his vessels? Do you happen to know what types he happens to own?”

“Yes of course. We have the racing dinghy which I crew for him sometimes when the wind is light, Mum crews during the heavier weather. Then we have the lugger which is more suitable to take out for picnics and social sailing with our friends.”

“That sounds very interesting; does he keep them locally?”

Jennifer Jane tried hard not to laugh. “I’m sorry, but at this time of the year he keeps them both at our holiday cottage down in Essex. He belongs to the local sailing club and can enter races or sail with friends whenever he wants while we’re on holiday.”

“Who is it dear?” asked Mary; coming to see who it was that Jennifer Jane was talking to.

“It’s a man who’s interested in sailing boats and he was wondering if he could have a look at dad’s fleet.”

“Your daughter has just explained,” said the man, as Mary repeated more or less what Jennifer Jane had just said. “I happened to see this picture in the local paper and I wondered if it might have been a shot of your boat.”

“Can’t be ours,” said Mary, “Dave keeps it down in Essex at the cottage. Mind you it does look like the same sort of boat, but then the makers must have made hundreds by now and it could be any one of them. Besides that I don’t think there’s a pond like that round here anyway!”

The man apologised for taking up so much of their time and left. Mary and Jennifer Jane collapsed laughing as soon as the door closed behind him. They were still giggling occasionally when Dave finally got home.