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| The abduction of Rebecca by Delcroix |
Extracts from a reading of chapter ii of Bill Clark's Route and Branch, read by Chris Thomas. Listen to full podcast here: https://archive.org/download/damsels-in-distress/Ch11a-damsels-in-distress.mp3
Ladies needing my help seemed to happen fairly regularly. Most of those on the phone were quick and simple to deal with: ‘The organisation you need to speak to is ...’ Or, ‘take the baby bird back to where you found it – no not the middle of the road – close by in the hedge, the parents are searching for it as we speak!’ Constant alertness for the wellbeing of our visitors is a necessity, a snap decision can become quite involved. A lady gathering up her accoutrements was being harassed, and seeing me dashing over, called, ‘Please help me, this horrible man has made my visit here an absolute misery!’ By the time her husband had convinced me he was her husband she had driven off in their car, leaving him to walk home!
One midmorning as I was hurrying home to get tea for a volunteer group, I passed a lone lady who looked upset. I stopped, introduced myself, and asked if she was lost. Bursting into tears she leapt forward and threw her arms so tightly around my neck that I could hardly breathe, and between breathlessly kissing my face, sobbed that she was in a terrible state, and just did not know what to do, and what a wonderful man I was to stop and help her! After going up various ‘blind alleys’ in an effort to help – and not wanting to walk round for the rest of my life, with her arm tightly round my waist – I deemed it best to take her to the Police Station, and get help there. Making sure the childlocks were on I went inside, pleased to see an elderly sergeant behind the desk who I always found very helpful when I took in abandoned animals. ‘Hello Mr Clark, what have you brought in today?’ ‘Well.’ I hesitated, ‘It is something a bit different this time, I am sure you can help, but you need to come to my car.’ He followed me outside. ‘I have picked up this lady in Wandlebury, who is in a bit of a state,’ I explained. And whilst he stood at the driver’s side, I unlocked the passenger door, and helped my passenger out.
Worried that she might freak out at the sight of a policeman, I held her arm and chatted merrily to her. ‘Would you believe it, this must be your lucky day, this nice policeman has said he is willing to help you.’ With one bound, she was out of my grasp, and had her arms tightly round the sergeant’s neck raining kisses on him. ‘Oh well,’ I said, ‘that is good, she has taken to you, I will leave her in your capable hands.’ ‘Oh thank you Mr Clark. Thank you very much,’ he called, as I quickly jumped in my car.
Ladies who had lost their dogs were legion – despite our policy and notices that dogs must be kept on the lead – one lady with an unruly couple, got very annoyed when I demonstrated, that with some firmness, hers could behave whilst on the lead, and suggested she should go to training classes. That I was, ‘a cruel, unfeeling man,’ was one of the kinder things she said during our continual confrontations. Then one cold February Sunday evening, there was a hammering on our door; and there she stood – in floods of tears. ‘Oh Mr Clark, please, please help me. I have lost both my lovely dogs.’ And off she dashed. Throwing on a coat, I caught up with her at the car park as she opened the back of her car to reveal the sopping wet bodies of both dogs. She had lost them during a walk by the river in the morning, and with the help of her family, had finally found them – floating at the base of a much scratched wall. The help she wanted from me, was to bury them in their, ‘favourite place.’ At least I would know where they were in future!
Another lady had lost her beagle, I finally found him – chomping down a long dead rabbit – She was sorry she had let him off the lead, but bone cancer and pain made it difficult to hold him. I could see by her stance that I was being told the truth, and as a concession, asked that she walked him – early or late – when few other folk were around: at least he mostly kept to heel. Just after dark one evening, I saw her car was still parked and I immediately cycled along her usual route: only to find her sitting on a tree stump. Nearby, the dog was chewing on the head of another stinking rabbit! Smiling with relief, I said, ‘You seem to have a problem?’ ‘Nothing like the problem I shall have later,’ she grimaced, ‘he was sick in the car last time.’ Bending down I grasped the dog firmly by the back of the neck, then with one foot on the rabbit’s body, I lifted him sharply. Despite snarling, he managed to keep his teeth clenched tight enough to keep what was in his mouth. I put her lead on him, and walked with them back to the car.
As her illness progressed, a chain-smoking, overweight gentleman transported her and waited in the car for her return.
After her death, he gave a donation for a group of trees to be planted in her memory, and took over walking the dog. Unfortunately the animal kept pulling him over, so I gave him the same privileges – which ensured I had to make two more rabbit chomping rescues! A couple of years after I last saw him, the CPS secretary, asked if I had any idea why £15,000 had been left to the Society specifically for Wandlebury. Fortunately, I remembered the man’s name from his tree planting donation. Finally – soon after my retirement – I was told a lady was giving a handsome donation, on condition that her dog was interred at the spot her brother’s ashes had been scattered: ‘did I know where that was?’ I was honoured to dig out the last resting place for the ‘tad’ overweight beagle, who had set off the train – and he was now among his first owner’s memorial trees.
A goodly number of mothers managed to lose their children – how different the reactions in such circumstances...
Next podcast - A positive word for Ivy https://routeandbranch.blogspot.com/2020/06/ivy-undeservedly-has-bad-name-for.html
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