10

Like two mighty kings, they sat across from each other. A meeting of warriors destined to fight evermore. Stout. Hardy. Neither would give quarter or remorse. Their eyes played the game of old, testing resolve and passion for battles to come and the wailing of loved ones, should either fall on this field of battle.

It all made Humphrey feel quite uncomfortable. He fidgeted in his chair, but the unwavering gaze of Cornelius held him tight to the spot. Arranged by Audrey, he couldn't see the point of any of this and doubted it would resolve his and Cornelius' differences. Humphrey still resolutely held to the, truthful, belief that he had done nothing wrong. While Cornelius believed himself justified in any and all retaliation he could think of.

The whole rigmarole felt pointless.

"I swear, old boy, that heating system needs replacing. The whole thing. Pipes, radiators, boiler. Everything. It's an absolute mess." From the kitchen-cum-storeroom-cum-boiler room, Audrey strode back into the main hall, wiping her hands on a cloth. "Time to dig into mummy and daddy's fortune, old boy, and modernise. I say electric. Solar panels. Eco-friendly."

It wasn't Humphrey's responsibility, really. Long ago, his mother and father had built the community centre from an old slaughterhouse. They had transformed it and then donated it to the village. After they had died, many years ago, the onus of keeping the community centre had fallen upon Humphrey, despite it being, ostensibly, the duty of the committee to keep the centre from falling to pieces.

He shrugged, making a mental note to investigate the matter. Audrey did have a point. Solar panels would be better. That didn't resolve the problems they had, here and now. Cornelius shifted in his chair, unfolding his arms and removing his pipe from his pocket. It remained a bone of contention that he couldn't smoke in the community centre, but that didn't stop him chewing on the stem.

"This hardly feels like a decent way to put an end to our hostilities, Audrey." He waved a hand in the vague direction of the board between him and Cornelius. "I don't play chess. How does winning at this make things right?"

He looked at the chess board. It, like the community centre, had seen far better days. The edges of the squares had become splintered and peeling. Many of the pawns had become lost to time, replaced by those old, brown and green, plastic soldiers he once played with as a child. Little plastic rifles bent or broken. He felt that should indicate something meaningful.

Other pieces had become replaced with whatever came to hand and Humphrey knew that everyone expected him to replace the chess set at some point. He made another mental note about that. Cornelius made a disgruntled 'harrumph' of agreement, under duress, he clearly wanted everyone to understand.

"I don't play chess, either." He picked up a pepper pot king, rolled his eyes and replaced it. "Now, a jolly good, immersive, war game? Yes! I, of course, would command Wellington's forces. Bennett, here, can take Napoleon's side. He was the aggressor, after all."

"If neither of you play chess, that makes it fair." Audrey scraped a chair along the decaying parquet floor and flopped down at the end of the table, taking the place of referee. "This is the best, most simple method of bringing all of this to an end. No more turnip-napping. No more begonia cutting. And no more carrot slaughter. It ends here. Whoever wins this, gets to state the terms of the end of hostilities. Otherwise, who knows where it could end."

Humphrey didn't like that. That would entail accepting responsibility for everything that had happened, if he lost. He would lose, too. He wasn't particularly good at games. Not one of them. Chess, draughts, snakes and ladders. He couldn't remember the last time he had won at any kind of game. Except for that one game. The one where, no matter who won, it would cause arguments that could tear families apart. He was quite good at that one.

"Monopoly." Cornelius slammed his hand upon the table, forcing several plastic soldiers to topple over. "I refuse to play chess. Monopoly is a far better indicator of who is in the right. You can see it in the way someone plays."

"Fine. Monopoly, then." Pushing herself back, Audrey looked across to the cupboards where she had found the decimated chess set. "I'm pretty certain we have that. Although, I think the dog has been replaced with a thimble."

"Actually." Before he could stop himself, Humphrey raised his hand, feeling like a child offering to answer a question at school and feeling the eyes of everyone upon him. "I'm rather good at Monopoly. It wouldn't be quite fair on Cornelius."

Audrey turned back to the table and blinked. Cornelius narrowed his eyes, wondering what Humphrey's strategy was in admitting his skill at the game and Humphrey silently berated himself at tossing away his chance of ending all this in his own favour. He couldn't help it. His sense of fair-play overrode any selfish need to win at all costs.

Very deliberately, Cornelius pushed the chess board to the side, clearing the space between himself and Humphrey. It almost felt as though Cornelius were about to jump across the table and start the fisticuffs that Vicar Garrumble felt, strangely, very strongly about. He didn't, of course. Instead, he used the cleared space to rest his elbows, covering his mouth with his hands as he studied Humphrey, trying to work out how to best him.

Humphrey realised, completely, that he had thrown away the chance to end the animosity between him and Cornelius. Audrey knew, too. He doubted she would have been as forthcoming with her competency at a game if she were one of the interested parties. She shook her head in a slow, disbelieving fashion. She would have played and never said a word until her triumph.

"Alright. What about cards? Do either of you play cards?" She sat forward again, looking from Humphrey to Cornelius and back again with a desperate, questioning look. "Poker? Pontoon? 3-Card Brag? Whist? Anything? Anything at all?"

Both Humphrey and Cornelius shrugged and shook their heads at every suggestion and Humphrey could see that Audrey had risen beyond 'miffed' and now bordered on the edge of 'rather cross'. If she reached the pinnacle of 'politeness' and 'intense silence', Humphrey would have to run. Nobody wanted to be anywhere near Audrey when she became overly polite.

He raised his hand again, thinking of suggesting a nice game of Snap, but he felt that would defeat the object of the exercise. That being that one, or the other, of them had to win in a game of skill and judgement. Snap was a matter of luck, if anything, and he didn't want to lose like that. He had a high propensity for being unlucky. He was well known for it.

"Perhaps ... Dominoes?" He could see, straight away that Cornelius didn't like that suggestion Sitting back, crossing his arms again, putting a barrier between himself and the very thought. "I was just thinking a game of fives-and-threes would ... be a ... nice ... No?"

"Work this out, chaps! Work it out now, or, so help me, I'll bash your heads together." Both of Audrey's hands slapped the table and she jumped to her feet. A loud knocking sound came from the direction of the community centre's boiler. "And get that solar heating system looked into, Humphrey, there's a good chap."

With irritated fingers running through her hair, Audrey stalked back to the kitchen/storeroom/boiler room, taking the cloth from her pocket, leaving Humphrey and Cornelius alone once more. Again, Humphrey fell into an awkward silence and, again, Cornelius simply glared at Humphrey. There seemed no end to their hostilities. No way to bring peace back to the village. They were, in essence, deadlocked.

Unless. He didn't want to do it. He hated the very idea of it, but, after a moment's thought, he could think of no alternative. It wasn't as though agreeing to it would admit guilt. He could gave that, in a stipulation in the declaration of the end of hostilities. They could write it down that he, in no way, shape or form, accepted any responsibility for the unfortunate events that have occurred in recent days.

And it could mean the end of something beautiful. That made his heart twinge. He couldn't know how Cornelius would play it. Which of the myriad options he would choose, if he agreed to it at all. Humphrey had to do something, though. This couldn't go on. The very fabric of village life hung in the balance.

"You know, you could, if you wanted, it's just an idea, a thought, as it were. If you agreed to it. And accepted the fact that I did not do anything. I didn't! But, in the interests of peace between us, I'm willing, if you are, to ... to ..." He paused, taking a deep breath. He could feel Cornelius wondering what he was about to suggest. "To let you destroy a section of my garden, equal and no greater to the section you lost in yours. Your choice. But, I insist you accept that I didn't take your turnips and cucumber and I didn't destroy your carrots. I was trying to stop that. I was!"

"My choice?" Again, Cornelius narrowed his eyes, pursing his lips. Then Humphrey's opponent sat back, a smug look of triumph upon his face. "Any part of your garden, equal to the size of my carrot plot? Oh, I think I just might. There is one, particular part of your garden that I have long despised. Oh, yes. Yes!"

"Oh, no. No!" Humphrey realised his mistake almost immediately. "What have I done?"

His head fell to the table. He had thought that Cornelius would have chosen one of the flower beds that sat in the manicured and well-maintained parts of the garden, the ones that Humphrey had spent days, weeks, months cultivating. It hadn't occurred to him that Cornelius would target the areas that Humphrey allowed to grow at their own pace. The areas that he loved because of their disorganised nature. He shuddered in absolute horror at the thought.