Pestilence

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

The quaint and peaceful village of Olney St. Mary had stood in its rural location for almost nine hundred years. Set in the tranquil Kent countryside, surrounded by vast swathes of hop fields that grew the crop for the beer that would quench a thousand thirsts, it had watched over the comings and goings of the centuries virtually untouched by time. The people of Olney had always lavished care on their village, isolated as it was by its pastoral surroundings. The nearest settlement to the village was the tiny hamlet of Bywater some twenty-five miles to the east, the nearest town, Ashford being nearly forty miles away. The coast lay to the south, a distance of just over forty-five miles as the crow flies.

It had been a Royalist stronghold during the long-ago days of the English Civil War when Cromwell had for a brief period of history established his Puritan Commonwealth in England’s realm. As far as was known, however, no battles or even light skirmishes took place within fifty miles of the village.

Centuries later, a memorial was erected to commemorate and remember the lives of the fifteen men from the village who sacrificed their lives for their country during the great World conflagration of 1914-1918.

Later, during the Second World War Olney had been witness to an aerial dogfight during the Battle of Britain and a Messerschmitt Bf110 had been shot down by a defending Spitfire in the skies above the village, eventually crashing to the ground in flames just beyond the northern boundary of Olney in a field owned by Mr. Simon Parkes. The aircraft had been flying as an escort to a formation of German Heinkel bombers en route for London, and a great cheer went up from the local residents as they saw the aircraft hit the ground. The elation of those first on the scene was quickly tempered when they witnessed the fruitless struggles of the two unfortunate aircrew as they tried desperately to escape from the burning pyre that their aircraft had become. The remains of the German aircrew were later buried with due respect and reverence in the graveyard at St. Mary’s church. German or not, they had been human beings, and the people of Olney were decent, God-fearing folk, who bore their fallen enemies no further malice. After all, the dead couldn’t hurt them, could they? After that the village remained relatively untouched by the savagery of war, though rationing took its toll on the local businesses, and after the war another twenty names were added to the local war memorial. The sons of Olney St. Mary had once again stood tall and proud and given their all for King and Country.

As the nineteen fifties saw the world entering a new and relatively peaceful age the village regained its previous air of tranquillity, and little happened that could be described as newsworthy in the village of Olney. The remains of the crashed Luftwaffe Messerschmitt had been removed from Farmer Parkes’ field by the RAF at the end of hostilities to be displayed in a museum and the field had been sold to the Parish council, where it had been turned into a playground for the local children. The fifties heralded the new consumer age, with washing machines, televisions and motor cars becoming the norm, rather than being the preserve of the wealthy or the middle classes. Work was plentiful, and though small, Olney St. Mary prospered. The majority of its working population were involved in one of the two main local industries; farming, or barrel making. A team of coopers still produced hand-made barrels for the brewery industry according to the methods laid down centuries earlier. Indeed, there would be little to distinguish between a twentieth century Olney-made barrel and one produced in the days of Cromwell’s Parliament.

The tiny school, the church and the local pub, The Beekeepers Arms were the focal points of village life, and Sam Bradley’s garage was the only place from which the locals could obtain cars, tractors and the spare parts for both. His was also the only petrol pump to be found for miles around, the profits from the sale of said petrol making Bradley one of the wealthier men in Olney.

Bradley had been excused war service due to his having been born with a club foot, though this didn’t prevent him from growing up to be a tall and handsome young man who had no problem in his relationships with the opposite s*x. He’d married during the war, and his wife Emily had given birth to their first child, a son, in 1944. David Bradley took after his father; he was a good-looking boy, taller than most of his contemporaries, and the child always seemed happy, the smile seemingly painted upon his cheery face. Two years later, a daughter followed whom the couple named Christine, and for the Bradleys, life was good. Sam’s business prospered and the children were both healthy and strong, and popular amongst the other children of the village.

Young David spent much of his time in the company of his best friend Evan Parkes, one year his senior. Evan was the grandson of Simon Parkes and lived with his grandparents on the farm. Evan’s father Michael had been one of the unfortunate sons of Olney who had perished fighting for his country during the conflagration of World War Two, being cut down by enemy mortar fire as he played his part in the battle to free France from the yoke of Hitler’s tyranny. Michael’s was one of the twenty names that were freshly engraved on the war memorial when peace returned to Europe and the world. Evan’s mother Deirdre, never the strongest of women had become pregnant with Evan during one of her husband’s last leave periods before his death and Michael had died in action without ever having seen his baby son. Deirdre had found life unbearable after the reported death of her husband, and she died in 1946 from what the locals described to each other as a broken heart. In fact, Deirdre had contracted viral influenza, and her body had been unable to cope with the ravages of the disease, thus leaving her young son in the care of his grandparents Simon and Ellen Parkes.

David and Evan played together almost every day and were seen together so often that a casual visitor might have mistaken them for brothers. Football, cricket, games of make-believe, of cowboys and Indians, the imagination of the two youngsters took them on a roller-coaster ride through childhood, and they became two of the most popular children at the tiny village school, where their teacher Eileen Devenish was always delighted with their schoolwork and good behaviour. As they moved into their teens, their education became the responsibility of Mr. Eric Padley who taught Olney’s children of secondary school age. Both boys continued to be the best of friends, and to excel at their studies.

As the boys and their peers grew towards adulthood life in Olney thus proceeded in its usual idyllic fashion for those fortunate enough to live within its boundaries.

In 1958 the usual calm of Olney was disturbed by the death of the village’s long serving general practitioner, Doctor Harold Meddings at the age of seventy. Meddings had been the doctor in the village for as long as most people could remember and the whole village turned out to attend his funeral in the tiny church, the service being conducted by Timothy Grafton, vicar of St. Mary’s. Three weeks after the funeral the new doctor arrived to take over the deceased Meddings’ duties. Sent at the request of the parish council by the local health authority based in Ashford, Doctor Hilary Newton’s arrival set tongues whispering in Olney from her first day in the village. Doctor Newton was young, female, and pretty, a combination guaranteed to ruffle a few feathers in the previously staid village. With her long hair styled in the fashion of forties movie pin-up Veronica Lake the new doctor instantly became the object of any number of schoolboy crushes, not to mention raising the blood pressure of most of the adult population of Olney. Many of the older residents of the village passed less than complimentary comments on the appointment of a woman as their new doctor and for many weeks Hilary Newton’s daily surgery was marked by a distinct lack of the elderly patients who had made up the bulk of old Doctor Meddings’ regular clients. The young doctor was painfully aware that she would have a real job on her hands in gaining the respect and the trust of her new patients. Time of course would play a part, as eventually even the elderly residents of Olney would need the care of a qualified medical practitioner. They couldn’t treat themselves with aspirin and old-wives remedies for ever.

Unfortunately for the new incumbent in the post of general practitioner to the people of Olney St. Mary that time was rapidly running out. Her services, and her medical knowledge were about to be tested to the full and she would have to work more than extremely hard if she were not to be found wanting!