The Morris Dancers' Union

The ceremony was short and concentrated on the good things which Brian had done over his life. The last few weeks were a scar on what had been an unblemished career. The body had not been found so there was nothing to bury. The cliff behind Brian's house was over a hundred feet high, straight down to the crashing waves with smashed against the rocks. Cecil had spent many an hour sat listening to the water with his old friend. The image of Brian falling was one which Cecil would relive in his dreams, over and over again. The dancers' bells jingled and chinked as they walked back from the Dingle where the ceremony had taken place. The floral garden was one of Brian's favourite spots so it seemed fitting. The Morris Ring had reinstated the dancers following the revelations. The ladies looked like a living rainbow as they walked back through the park, each wearing a different colour dress with matching show laces. The men had all ironed their shirts and pressed their wai...

It didn't take long before the dancers all returned and shared their findings. Brian's clothes were missing, he had packed in a hurry but it was obvious that he had thrown something in a bag. He was a very ordered person but his bedroom drawers had been left open with some clothes not folded up. His granddad shirt, breeches and waistcoat were nowhere to be seen. Nor were his bells, sticks or handkerchiefs. Brian had lived alone for almost twenty years, ever since he lost his wife in a tragic paper-clip incident. The photograph of her which usually sat on the centre of the mantelpiece had gone, telling them that Brian wasn't looking at returning any time soon. Derek and Dennis returned with nothing of use from the neighbours. Agnes had nothing to add either. She had spoken with Brian's sister but she had no news.    "He has definitely left," concluded Flo. "I found this in the bathroom, the cold-hearted bastard." He placed an empty fish b...

Being ready to take on Brian was one thing, finding him in the first place was something else entirely. The dancers tried knocking on his front door but there was no answer. They tried tried banging louder but it made no difference. Agnes even tried rattling the letter box flap. "What now?" asked Dennis feeling slightly deflated. He had psyched himself up for a battle and was now a bit put out. "I'm thinking," replied Cecil. Brian was rarely away from home. If he wasn't carrying out the three P's - patrolling, practising or performing - he was at home doing some kind of DIY. "Try the garage," Cecil suggested. "Already have," replied Flo, "no sign of him." "Cunning," said Cecil. "He obviously knew that we'd be coming," said Sylvia with an air of I-told-you-so. "He's legged it. What we need to do is work out where, is there anywhere he would go? Friends? Family? If not, we ne...

"Cotswold?" Really? Why?" The dancers did not take the news as well as Cecil had hoped. He knew that the dancers were proud of their style but did not expect them to be so defensive. "What can they do which we can't?" Cecil had a job of explaining but he persevered. Eventually the complaints died down and the dancers accepted that there may be some things which they can learn. They were willing to give it a try. "For his sins, Brian did have one thing right," said Cecil. "We have become lax. We have taken our skills for granted. But no more. We will train harder than ever before..." There was a cheer from some of the dancers in agreement, "We will regain the trust of the people who we protect..." another cheer, this time louder, "we will regain our bells!" With this, the team cheered and applauded, although only briefly, in a restrained manner and without any whoops. The trainer's name was Gerald. He had...