©2005 Ian Hobson

Lesley finished filling in the entry form for the Kent Village of the Year competition. Should she tell the full story? She laughed out loud at that thought.

'What are you chuckling at?' asked Betty, looking up from her encyclopaedia of garden plants. Betty was Lesley's sister. The two of them lived together in a cottage in the centre of the village and were two of its oldest residents.

'Oh, I was just wondering what the judges would think if they knew the secret of our success.' Lesley slipped the entry form into its envelope and then looked out of the window. It would be getting dark soon.

'They'd probably all have heart attacks,' remarked Betty, reaching to switch on the standard lamp. 'Though if they did, we'd do even better next year.'

Lesley laughed out loud again. 'Betty, you're incorrigible!'

'I think,' said Betty, as she reached for a pen and made a note on a pad that rested on her chair arm, 'we should have more Salvia Splendens Compacta in the borders next year. They did really well this year, and they flower from June to October.'

'Oh, yes. They're a lovely shade of red.'

Suddenly the telephone began to ring, so Lesley walked through the hall to answer it. 'Hello… Oh! Another one, already? Just a moment… Betty! Harvey's got another… you know what. Are we free in about fifteen minutes?'

'Of course,' replied Betty. 'We can have a late supper. Where does he want us? Suggest the rose bed opposite the church.'

'Where, Harvey? Betty thinks the rose bed opposite the church… Yes, okay, see you there.' Lesley replaced the receiver and walked back into the lounge. 'We better wrap up warm; it's supposed to get chilly this evening.'

The two elderly, but sprightly, sisters put on their coats and scarves and Wellington boots, and left the cottage by the back door. Outside, the sun had just set, but the sky was almost cloudless. And even in poor light, the garden looked beautiful, with its manicured lawn and hedges. Betty stopped to smell one of the standard roses; by rights it should have stopped flowering weeks ago. She wondered if it was due to the superior feed or to recent climatic changes.

'Oh, what about our spades?' Lesley asked, as she opened the garden gate.

'We won't need them. Harvey always carries spare ones.' Betty closed the gate behind them. 'He did say just the one, didn't he?'

'Oh, yes, just the one. Might be heavy though.'

The village was one of the smallest in Kent and, as the limited street lighting came on, the two sisters made there way through it; proud of its cleanliness and of the dedication of their fellow villagers; almost all of them keen gardeners and, of course, all non-smokers.

That was where it had all begun really: The need to keep the village free of litter, as well as in full bloom, for the judging. Smokers had often been the worst culprits, but banning smoking in the village had improved the situation enormously. Though the masterstroke had come after Betty had had an argument with a visitor who had ignored the prohibition signs and blatantly thrown a cigarette butt into the gutter. She hadn't meant to kill him; just to whack him with her umbrella and make him see the error of his ways. But because the idiot had fallen backwards over a plant trough, and fractured his skull on the stone paving, things had taken an unusual turn.

Burying the corpse under one of the new rose beds had been Harvey's idea. And the resulting blooms over the following years had been breathtaking. So when, three years later, old Tom Bankcroft shot a man for fly-tipping, the villager's policy towards offenders changed for good.

'Here we are,' said Betty, as they reached the church and crossed the road. On the other side Harvey was waiting beside his estate car with his brother, Gordon.

'Big fella, late fifties, I'd say.' Harvey gestured with his thumb towards the back of his vehicle. 'Caught him emptying his ashtray in the pub car park. I got Richard and Mary to drive his car away and lose it.'

'How did you, err, dispatch him?' asked Lesley.

'Garrotte. Old army trick I learned when I was younger… Right then, there's spades in the back of the car. If you ladies get the roses up, we'll dig the hole and get him planted.'