Before 'Anonymous' tells us that this is all bullshit, the following is loosely based on a true story. The incidents involving the policeman, the drunk and his wife actually did happen, of course some changes have been made to make the story more credible.
The road into town passes a sign that reads 'Morton. Population: 250'. But the sign can no longer be believed because no-one has bothered to change it for twenty years. On one side of the main street is the railway station that once thrived with goods from the local farms and forests being loaded onto trains and shipped to markets miles away. The loading dock and siding are no longer used and miles have become kilometres.
On the other side of the road is the General Store that holds onto tradition by closing for an hour at lunch time. Next to the general Store is the hotel. It no longer is the thriving business that it once was at the time that this story is set. Further up the road is the hull of a building that used to house the cinema as they call them today. In its heyday it was known as the 'flicks', a throwback to a time when hand-cranked films flickered. The 'flicks' was famous for its cuddle seats, two seats without the barrier of an armrest in the middle, where young couples could kiss and cuddle, and which had an unfortunate habit of collapsing, depositing the courting couple unceremoniously onto the floor amid the cheers and cat-calls of the rest of the audience.
Next door but one to the cinema was the red-brick Police Station that was presided over by one policeman. This was for years Sergeant Frank Chilvers, known to all and sundry as 'Chilly'. It is he who is the central character of this story, and the events depicted are what led to his decision to leave this position. These events came to light during a 'Performance Review' and I should know because it was me that conducted it.
I arrived incognito a week ahead of the scheduled review meeting so that I could get a feel of the situation, to see how the locals got on with the Sergeant. The first thing that struck me was that no-one ever referred to him by his title or name, it was always 'chilly'. Now the official stance to this type of casual attitude was that it was not encouraged, after all the people were supposed to respect the police. My stance was a little different, and it depended very much on the tone used by the person speaking to or about him. In every case the tone was familiar without being derogatory so I let it slide.
The next thing I noticed was when he was giving driving tests they varied from student to student. Some were put through a very stringent test while others, and in one case instance, the test was almost non-existent. The case in point consisted of the student driving him to the Fish and Chip shop at the top of the hill and waiting while he bought his lunch and then driving him back to the police station.
One case in particular that I heard about was when a young lad arrived at the police station on his seventeenth birthday and announced to Sergeant Chilvers that he had come to sit his driving test. Sergeant Chilvers' response was; "How many years have you been driving now Phil?"
Phil was quite open with his answer; "Since I was twelve." With which Sergeant Chilvers issued him with his Drivers Licence. I was horrified when I heard about that one and made a note to raise the issue when I spoke to him.
I sat in the front bar of the Hotel on Saturday night watching the customers. They were the usual types you get in a country pub, the older guys sitting and chatting away, usually about the 'good old days' and the things that they did and some of the women that they 'knew'. Then there were the middle aged guys drinking to forget the woman waiting at home for them, and wondering when it would be safe for them to return.
The next group were the interesting ones, they were the younger men in their late twenties or early thirties who were still full of bullshit about the things that they'd gotten up to and the women that they'd had. They drank too much and talked too loud and in many ways were a disturbance to the rest of the clientele. The final group were the young guys who didn't have a date to the flicks and were too embarrassed to rock up solo. They sat at the bar and drank beer until they needed to empty their bladder to fit the next beer in. They weren't much of a problem and the Sergeant arrived just before closing time and suggested that they call it a night. They got up and left.
He then went over to one of the old guys. "Bill, I've just rung your Mary, she's coming in to pick you up. You'd better finish up, you don't want to keep her waiting." Mary I assumed to be the man's wife but as it turned out she must have been his grand-daughter. She thanked 'Chilly' and ushered the old man out. His mates soon followed and I noticed that despite having been drinking steadily all night they didn't seem worse for wear.
The middle aged men saw what was going on and decided to brave the home front. This left the bullshit artists. They were noisy and had been just noisy, no real problems until one of them started bragging. "Wednesday night I fucked Suzie Chambers in the front seat of my car while we were parked in her driveway with her old man asleep inside not twenty feet away. She fucking scared the shit out of me when she came, Christ was she loud, I thought she'd wake up the whole fucking neighbourhood."
"You are so full of it man!" One of his mates interjected into this narrative. "I live right next door to her and, if she was as loud as you say she was, she would've set my dogs off. They bark at the slightest noise, they've even been known to bark when a mouse farted."
"Are you calling me a fucking liar? If you don't believe me you only have to ask her. She told me it was the best fuck that she'd had for years."
"She tells everyone bloke that, and she's told plenty."
"Are you saying she's a slut?"
"She must be if she'll let you fuck her."
It looked like it was going to develop into something when Sergeant Chilvers strolled over and tapped the first guy lightly on the shoulder with his big four cell Winchester torch. The guy swung around with his fists at the ready, but when he saw who it was he dropped them. The Sergeant still had his torch raised and looked as if he meant business. The man skulled his beer and they all left the hotel.
Cliff, the publican poured a beer and passed it over the bar to the Sergeant. "Thanks for that Chilly, They'd been a little loud and full of shit up until then and I was keeping an eye on them but you saved me the agro."
Chilvers drank the beer in one go and placed the glass back on the bar. "No worries Mate, I'll see ya next Sat'dy night, if you have any problems during the week you just have to give me a bell."
"Sure thing Chilly, see ya."
I walked over to the bar. "That was pretty impressive, does everyone go so quietly?"
"Yeah, Chilly's a good cop and the people know it. He doesn't take any bullshit and knows how to handle himself when he needs to, but he hasn't needed to for a long time. When he tells someone to cool it they do."
"How long did it take to earn that respect?"
"It took a while. When he first got here he was pretty gung ho and by the book. He didn't win too many friends let me tell you. But one of the old boys took him to one side and told him a thing or two about handling us country folk. City ways just don't work out here. Once he cottoned to that bit of advice things got better for him. He did a deal, if any of the young bucks started acting tough he took him aside and admonished him in a subtle way. If it happened again he had a quiet word with the kid's father and let him sort it out behind the wood shed. They learned quickly enough. Nothing happens around here that he doesn't know about. Even some of the parents ask him to 'admonish' their kids when they get out of control."
"Is there much crime around here?"
"Not as you'd notice. Whenever there's a break-in he usually knows who did it and goes and has words. If the guy has the goods still it's returned and nothing more is said about it. If the tea leaf (thief) does it again he gets locked up and everyone hears about it. They seldom re-offend, especially not after the towns folk all go to the lock-up and sit outside the cell and talk about him and what they'll do to him the next time."
"And that works?" I was astonished by this revelation of country justice.
"The last time something was taken was three years ago. If he doesn't watch out he'll be doing himself out of a job."
"What about violence, have there been any instances of husbands beating their wives or of lover's spats that have got out of hand?"
"Hasn't been any of that for years, you see the women, when Chilly won their trust and they felt that he'd do something about it, would tell him if the old man had given them the rounds of the kitchen and Chilly would pay them a visit at their place of work. Word soon got around that if the husband got a visit at work it was because he'd been beating his wife. The husbands couldn't stand the embarrassment so the practice stopped."
"What was to prevent a woman seeking revenge for some perceived hurt by falsely accusing her husband of beating her?"
