The Villagers

Prologue

PrologueWith every cherished memory, there is a beautiful, tranquil, idealistic place that, when recalled to mind, can transport you back to the innocence of your childhood. These were the towns and hamlets where dreams were made, friendships moulded, hearts broken and personalities forged.

Everyone has one of these places, no matter how long ago or how short the stay, a place that makes them warm inside and brings a momentary tug at their heartstrings. Somewhere safe that creates a sensual feeling and brings tears to our eyes when those long forgotten heroes are once again replayed in our fading recollections.

The characters we met, some long gone to their graves, many of them old and grey, and some who simply disappeared without a trace, these are the people that made growing up such fun. There are always the amusing ones whose names we can never recall and the grumpy ones whose names trip off our tongues so easily, right up until our senior years. Take a moment to reflect upon these people. The kind but strict schoolmaster urging you to always do better, the crazed old lady who would wave a stick from inside her cat-ridden house when she caught you trying to scrump apples from her orchard, the cheerful postman who would willingly battle hail and snow to bring letters and cards from loved ones overseas and the portly shopkeeper who would always sneak a few extra toffees into the bag when you laid your last pennies on his counter.

In these wonderful places, it wasn't about the buildings. Concrete and stone had no part in making us the individuals that we would become. No, it was the flesh and blood, the friends, neighbours and casual passers-by with whom we would build forever friendships, acquaintances and fond, fond memories. In our childhood homes we were safe, protected and above all happy. We were cocooned from the outside world by a tight network of people, who seemed to want no more than to nurture our souls.

Places like these filled every corner of post-war Britain, beautiful communities with chocolate-box cottages and smiling children everywhere, a safe haven where doors were left unlocked and children rode their bicycles for miles without a care. Clusters of houses where people shared their troubles and rallied around to help a neighbour in need, baking pies for the elderly, concocting home remedies for the sick and pulling together to make the community function as a whole, wanting nothing in return.

And then there was 'The Village'.