It was six o clock in the morning, the sun was just peeking one eye over the misty horizon and a cockerel was crowing somewhere not too far away. Joe was looking extremely annoyed, wet from head to toe and standing up to his knees in muddy water. It is the sort of thing I would have normally thought of as extremely funny, it would have been funny, if only I had not been standing up to the knees in the same muddy water.

" I think that's disgraceful." said Joe.

" What a stupid place to put a pond." I said.

We had been cycling down this long winding hill, we were going fast enough to be exciting but not too fast to be dangerous. The bends on the hill were gentle and there was nothing else on the road at that time in the morning. Everything was going fine until Joe suddenly shouted 'We want that one.'. That one being a turning to the right that was marked by a well hidden sign post pointing its short stubby arm to Tipping in the Dell.

I suppose we should have been warned by the name. We leaned over and quickly turned the bicycle down into the lane at a speed bordering on the, only just made it kind of speed. If we had been going slower we might have seen what was coming and had some chance to break, get off or something. A few yards down the lane the road suddenly turned from being a gentle downward slope into north face of Everest, and we were already committed to going down it, fast. Even though we were breaking hard we increased speed to about nine hundred miles an hour, luckily the road was straight and ran straight through the middle of the village.

A very large ginger cat who was sitting in the middle of the road stared at us in disbelief as we rattled down the hill into the village. We rang the bell and shouted but the cat could not decide what we were, I don't think it had ever seen anything travelling at such a speed. It almost left it too late before bounding in one giant leap from the middle of the road onto the roof of a small building at one side of the road. We rattled through the unsuspecting village like and express train. There were two large black and white cows looking over a fence at the other end of the village, the cows were thinking to themselves 'we know something you two don't know' as we rattled past them at speed. What the two cows knew that we did not know, was that the road did not go out the other side of the village, it just stopped and where it stopped was the village duck pond.

The ducks that a few moments ago had been sleeping quietly in the middle of the pond, were now scattered in the surrounding trees, fields and bushes. All having fled at the sight of a bicycle and two bodies descending like the wroth of god from the heavens, right into the middle of their pond.

We were in Tipping in the Dell and at that moment well and truly in it, to look at a small tavern called the Duck and Broom that was being sold by the local brewery. This rather wet start to our visit did not exactly endear us to the village. We dried our selves out the best we could and tipped the water out of our shoes, then wandered around the village to try and find the Duck and Broom. It was not a very big village so in about half an hour we had gone round everywhere at least twice.

There were eighteen houses, eight barns and sixteen pig sties. Not only were there no 'for sale' signs on any of the buildings, there was absolutely no indication of where the Dick and Broom could be. We tried another tack and looked for a building that might look like it could be a pub. The trouble was the only place that looked even vaguely like a pub had five pigs living in it.

We began to wonder if we had got the right village as we ended out fourth circuit around the village but there could not be more than one village called Tipping in the Dell. Joe reminded me that I had said that about Upoverly but really that was not the same only nearly the same one was Upoverly, the other one was Oveupley which I thought proved my point. I reminded Joe about Dingly with an I and Dyingly with a Y. Before this argument went any further I suggested we ask somebody first before we starting looking for anywhere else.

That would be easier said than done however we had been hear an hour, made more noise than a herd of elephants and sill had not seen any one, i was still early but I thought people who lived in the country all got up at the crack of dawn to milk cows and collect eggs and things. Joe not very helpfully suggested that perhaps its a ghost village and there was in fact no one there. Judging by the looks of the place it certainly has not done much in the way of improving things in past hundred years.

We had decided to sit on a thick stone wall and let the first rays of the sun dry out our trousers, as it do so we talked to a couple of pigs to who thought it was their wall and tried to push us off. Suddenly there was a noise of a door opening, a man and a small boy came out of a tiny cottage at the far end of the village, they turned towards us and headed up the village street, they were driving a pig in front of them.

" We had better ask one of them about the pub." said Joe.

" Which, the man, boy or pig? " I said

The pig was running all over the road while the small boy kept running after it with a stick and shooing it back in the direction they were going. Seeing these people should have given us some comfort but our impression that this was a ghost town was not at all dispelled by the sight of the man, boy or pig. They all looked as if they had stepped straight out of the pages of a Charles Dickens novel. The boy was scruffy, unwashed, he had no shoes on, wore an old jumper and old trousers both full of holes and several sizes too big. The man was wearing a battered top hat and dressed in a smock that came down to his knees, on his feet he had black riding boots that must have had at least half a ton of mud on them. The man was smoking a pipe and seemed more interested in getting the pipe going than in either the small boy or the pig.

" I think we had better ask the pig and work our way down the intelligence scale from there." said Joe.

I hoped that the man had not heard what Joe had said because although he might have looked scruffy but he was built as if he tossed pigs around the before breakfast. We jumped down off the wall as he came close as ask him if he could you tell us where the Duck and Pig was. The man came closer and looked at me for a long time.

" O or be oer thire." he said. " Wo chilly Pros we go me fer serton gom affer we were." he continued.

Luckily he pointed so at least we got a general direction as seemed to be pointing to a clump of trees where we could just see the top of a chimney. We thanked him and he wondered off after the pig after he had disappeared from sight we both wondered if we had been dreaming of if we had actually seen any one. The village was extremely quiet again. As we pushed the bicycle toward the clump of trees that had the chimney we were still trying to work out what the man had said to us, then Joe wondered if we had cycled into another country. The speed we were going we could be in another universe.

We had seen the cottage before on one of our previous trips around the village and it still did not look much like a pub. We leaned our bicycle against a tree and decided to had a look around, it was an old cottage built from timber beams with brick infill panels. The roof was red pantiles, or underneath the moss and lichen they were once red pantiles. The getters were made of wood, the windows small glass pained and side sliding which was very old, the whole place looked sad and very neglected. It can not have been painted for at least the past twenty years, as we looked it became obvious that no one had lived there for many years. There were weeds growing out of cracks in the brickwork and the odd pain of dirty glass was missing. The garden had long ago lost its battle with mother nature.

We went for a closer look confident now that there was no one in the place. As we inspected the place Joe found an old wooden sign screwed over the back door, written very roughly in white paint was the statement 'eggs 6d half doz'. Although that was rather cheap for eggs these days, it was not the egg statement that caught my eye, it was the older fading sign underneath the egg advert, we could just make out a few of the words, Licensed to se.., dancing and musi.., Mr A. P. Herb...

This could be the place Dr Watson I declared the Duck and Broom, or what once was the Duck and Broom. Can't see any ducks Joe said or any brooms I added looks like the end of the trail, which meant of course we had got to get back up that hill. that was a rather depressing thought which I had forgotten about. O well declared Joe as we turned to go back to the bike.

" Do you want some eggs." A shrill squeaky voice came out of nowhere making us both jump with fright.

" Did you say that." I said to Joe.

" No." said Joe.

" You two deaf or something." said the squeaky voice.

We looked round we could not see anybody, my hart was pounding thoughts of the ghost village surging round my head, the voice was not coming from inside the building it was out here with us and close. " Where are you? " said Joe rather nervously.

" Up here." said the voice.

We both looked up. Leaning out of an upstairs window was the top half of what one can only describe as one of cinderellas ugly sisters, she looked as neglected as the cottage. " Well." She squeaked.

We assured her we were not looking for eggs we were looking for the Duck and Broom. What for squealed the ugly sister at us.

" Don't be so rude." another different voice rattled out from nowhere. This voice sounded hollow and was not as squawky as the first, then another head popped out of the nest upstairs window. It was the ugly sisters sister, right down to the pink hair curlers in her hair, the look this sisters eyes however was slightly kinder.

" What are you poking your nose in for." said the first sister. " I saw them first."

" Shut up you old battle axe." said the second sister. " You'll frighten them to death."

She was right about that I was petrified as me and Joe stood in the garden of the cottage almost breaking our necks looking up from sister to sister, as they argued out the windows at each other.

You're too soft said the first sister, you're to suspicious shouted back the second sister. Any way what do you want, the first sister turned her attention back to me and Joe. Yes what do you want the second sister also turned her attention on us. You know that feeling you get when you wish you could just melt away into the background and disappear.

Joe said how we had been told the Dick and Broom was up for sale and how we had come to find it, how we couldn't find it so ask a man in a top hat and he had pointed to this place.

You ask daft Duffy mused the second sister, it's a wonder you understood anything he said, he simple in the head.

" He did point." I said.

The sister said that can have only been a lucky chance, we could have ended up in the duck pond, we both gave a polite little laugh. Well you've found it squawked the first sister now what.

" O shut up." said the second sister. " You had better come in you must have come a long way."

Both heads disappeared into the cottage at the same time is if pulled by some invisible string. A few moments later the back boor was opened, both sisters stood there like a pair of bookends, everything they did they, did together. Come on in they both said at the same time.

The both moved back as if carrying out some unscripted ballet and showed us into the inner room. They did everything together, except agree on anything. The place was very sparsely furnished and very decrepid. They showed us through the kitchen and into what must have been, at one time, the public bar. It was just a room with benches around the walls. There was a wooden table in the centre and three large wooden barrels laying on a rack against the far wall.

The sisters told us to sit down so obediently sat down on the rather hard bench, the first sister ask us if we would you like something to drink but before we had chance to reply the second simply replied for us saying of course we would get them a glass of beer Mildred.

The other sister got a glass from underneath one of the barrels and blew about two inches of dust from it, the cloud of dust hung in the air for a long time before slowly settling slowly down to join the rest of the dust covering almost all of the objects in the room. I think this is a little bit dirty commented the first sister, Barbrella has not been looking after things very well recently. She went over to a door in the far wall and opened it a little way, Barbrella she screamed.

" Must apologise." said the second sister." Barbrella's not been feeling her self lately and things have got a bit, well untidy shall we say."

The door in the far wall opened and a small girl slid silently in, she was this dressed in what were obviously cut down cloths of the much larger sisters. She was extremely dirty, her face unwashed, her hair ragged hanging down around her shoulders, her eyes were dark and dull, she looked very sad. Yet as she stared at us like a frightened little mouse from across the room, there was something, something very beautiful behind that sad little face.

The second sister whispered to us that they had been looking after the girl since her parents had died. The first sister squawked at the young girl telling her to go and wash these glasses, she immediately scurried away with the glasses. When the girl had left the room the second sister confided to us that she was a poor dear not very bright really.

Soon the girl was back with very clean glasses. The second sister went to one of the barrels and turned a wooden tap filling the glasses with a dark brown liquid. She passed us each a glass, judging by the age and condition of the barrels I was not too sure if we should drink it. However the two sisters pored themselves a glass each and started drinking, me and Joe looked at each other then slowly put the glasses up to our lips and took a very mall sip. To this day I do not know what it was, I think it was cider, but it must have been in those barrels so long it had turned into pure vodka. It had a kick like a dinosaur, the small girl did not have any, she just lent against the opposite wall looking at us, almost as if she had never seen strangers before.

" You are looking for a pub to buy." said the second sister taking a large gulp of her drink.

" We're looking for a friend." said Joe rather naively

" Its not really being sold as a pub." said the first sister. " There are only a couple of the villagers who ever come in here and one of them is daft Duffy."

" We are hoping to sell it to someone from the town who wants a cottage in the country to do up." said the second sister. " It does need a bit of doing up."

Me and Joe sat silently looking at up at the sisters as we slowly sipped at our pints of rocket fuel. The sisters were standing near the table and were halfway down their pint pots of fire water with no effect what so ever. They were telling us about the cottage and how they had lived there since childhood. How their parents had died and how Barbrella was their half sister. They were talking in turns talking and we were looking from one to the other our heads beginning to feel very woozy. Luckily Joe managed to summon up enough will power to leap in during a momentary pause in the family saga.

" We've got a long way to get back." said Joe getting unsteadily to his feet.

" Can't you stay for a meal." said the second sister. " We've got plenty of food and we'd be glad of the company.

" Very kind of you." I said." But we've got to meet some people." I lied.

We put down our half full glasses and waddled our way unsteadily towards the door. Joe whispered in my ear as we pushed out the door not to take a deep breath when we got outside, he knew from experience that we might just fall flat on our faces after all that alcohol.

As Joe went out through the door I turned to say a final thank you and found my self face to face with the young girl. She stood there, the light from the door shining on her dirty face, she was looking straight into my eyes. Her eyes were shining like a tiger seeing the jungle for the first time, there was a sudden flash of excitement deep in those eyes. Her expression was still sad, but there was something. She was very beautiful.

" You almost forgot your scarf." she said in a soft whispering voice. She flicked the scarf over my head and onto my shoulders, knotting it firmly under my chin. The with an unexpected flick of her wrist on my elbow, she had spun me round and pushed me out the door. " Have a nice journey." she said and the door was shut.

Rather stunned by the turn of events staggard to the bicycle, half in shock and half under the effects of the fire water. Joe sat in the saddle, lets get gone was all he said.

We peddled the bicycle out of the village toward the main road, at the bottom the big hill we just had to sit down to have a rest. Making it up that hill was going to be one heck of an effort.

" You're not going to need that scarf on." said Joe.

" No." I said starting to take off.

" It's funny I can't remember you bringing a scarf." said Joe in puzzlement.

" Neither can I." I said.

I took the scarf off and had a look at it, I had never seen it before in my life. It was very finely knitted almost like silk, lovely soft colours merging into each other, there was a pocket at each end. The was some paper in one of the pockets, I took it out, it was a letter. Joe ask what I had got as I unfolded the peace of paper I looked at it. I seemed to be from Barbrella the young girl at the pub. I read the letter out loud to Joe.

" Please help me, I am being held prisoner here, I cannot get away and am so unhappy, please tell William it was my birthday last Monday he will know what that means and what to do. He lives at the farm beyond the pond. Please help me Barbrella."

We sat in silence for a moment. We did not know quite what to make of that, they were either all potty or they were having us on. Joe thought that perhaps we had crashed coming down the hill and we are now laying unconscious at the bottom dreaming all this. That beer was no dream anything with a kick like that would wake you out of a coma let alone a bump on the head. I ask Joe what he thought we should do, he thought we should get on our bike and peddle away from there as fast as possible. Lets go and find William I decided. Joe wanted to know what ever happened to collective decision making. I told him he had not looked into those deep sad eyes and we had got nothing planed for the rest of the day, And if we can help somebody I started to sing. You are a sucker for a pretty face said Joe I do not believe we are doing this. We cycled back through the village to find the pond again.

We found a track that went round one side of the pond and up a gully away from the village. We had been going some time and still there was no sign of any building or anything, only the high banks of the gully and the trees on each side. Suddenly we emerged from the gully to see a wide panorama of fields. We were high on a ridge over looking a wide plain of flat land. To the right a bit further along the ridge was a collection of farm buildings. Joe commented that as they were the only buildings any where around it must be the farm where William lived

As we approached we could see it was not just a farm it was a large estate with a manor house that had turrets and castle like roof bits. We cycled into a large courtyard, there did not seem to be anyone about. A horse whinnied and we heard a voice talking to the horse, we went toward the sounds.

I called hello to see if anyone relayed. A horse appeared at a stable door, then a mans head popped up and looked over the same door.

" Hello what can I do for you then." he said.

" We are looking for William." I said.

" Well that's a lucky coincidence." said the man.

" Why? " I said.

" Because you've found him, I William."

William took us to a small room filled with saddles and harnesses and things to do with horses. He brewed up some tea and we sad down around a small stove. We told him the story about looking for the Duck and Broom and the two ugly sisters with the little girl. We showed him the scarf and the letter and ask if he was the William mentioned which it seems he was.

He ask if we knew what this is all about to which Joe replied that we did not because we were laying unconscious at the bottom of a hill. William looked somewhat puzzled. I told him not to take any notice of Joe but it was rather odd it was just not the sort of thing does that happens in normal life. You are right said William much to my surprise. Which I took to mean that we were dreaming but he was referring to the normal life bit, Tipping it seems if it was anything was not normal life.

Joe decided it was all getting too complicated for me especially after that beer we had at the Duck and Broom. William laughed you had some of their scrumpy. I told him about half a glass full. He told us we really would have a hangover in the morning. Just what we needed to round off a very odd day.

William told us he would explain about Barbrella of we were not in a hurry for it was a long story. We went over to Williams cottage and he started to cook us up a meal, it was rabbet stew and was delicious, we all had second helpings.

After the meal he began to explain all about this funny little village, Barbrella and her rather odd stepsisters. It seems William was going to marry Barbrella but her parents got killed in a boating accident and the stepsisters had guardian ship over her, nether of them liked the idea of William marrying Barbrella, so they tried to keep them apart for the last three years. Not it seems completely successfully.

It seems me and Joe appeared in the nick of time, hence the sudden appeal note. The sisters had managed to keep Barbrella almost locked up for the past six months and were now planning to move to Otley to live with their other sister, this will certainly keep then apart for good. Our arrival must have seemed to provide a last desperate chance for barbrella to contact William.

It seems that now she was eighteen the legal guardianship of the sisters ends. If she could get away from her sisters they could not force her back.

I suggested we storm the cottage and set Barbrella free but it was not that simple, as William explained this is not a normal village, it lived a hundred years out of date. Any action on Williams part to use force and the village will turn against him, as he worked there and know nothing else it would mean that we would not be able to marry because he would be a village outcast.

Hmm, problem." said Joe.

" Problem indeed." said William. " And it looks as if time is short."

" Can't she just walk out." I said.

" You've seen those sisters." said William.

" Hmmm, problem." I said.

We sat in the library of the big hall, me, Joe, William and a very old gentleman called Sir Calverton Hemerldon-Smike. He was the owner of almost everything around and in the village. William had been explaining what had happened to Sir Calverton. We were all considering the problem and hoping Sir Calverton could come up with a solution.

We were all drinking brandy from large glasses, the brandy was only just

a little more powerful than the rocket fuel we had been given in the village. I was not looking forward to tomorrow morning.

" Hmmm, problem. " said Sir Calverton between sips of brandy.

" Hmmm." we all said in turns.

" Got it. " said Sir Calverton at length and two brandies later. " Elope."

" Elope." said William. " Yes everyone likes a bit of romance, you and Barbrella elope, get married, come back live the cottage, village romance story, everyone happy."

" How do we deal with the sisters. " said William. " We cant just wonder up knock at the door and say please can Barbrella come and elope."

" You don't elope like that." said Sir Calverton. " You take a ladder to the cottage at midnight, haven't you read any romance stories."

" Well I think we ought to be off." said Joe.

" It's a long ride back." I said.

Sir Calverton did not actually say anything he just looked at us and smiled with the sort of smile that says you are not getting away that easy.

Riding back down the footpath towards the village would have been hard enough in the dark, but with the additional burden of a ten foot ladder it was near enough impossible. William had borrowed an old bicycle from Sir Calverton and was following the best he could without any lights. I didn't think ducks quacked in the dark but they seemed to know we were coming and kicked up an almighty row, we were sure they would wake up the whole village. I had thought the village was spooky enough in the daylight, but now it was like being in one of those old movies where the heroin does the sensible thing and takes the short cut through the grave yard at midnight. The village had no street lights or anything like that and there were no lights on in any of the cottages. This made it remarkably difficult to find our way about and we bumped into several walls and hedges before we found the Duck and Broom. The black outline of the cottage stood against the black shadows of the trees. As we fumbled about in the dark at the end of the garden I as William if he knew which window was Barbrellas apparently he did not, which I thought was brilliant I could just see us stealing one of the ugly sisters. I just hoped the did not all sleep in the same room.

" What do we do take pot luck." whispered Joe.

" We can't." said William. " If we're rumbled there'll be no second chance.

" What do you suggest then." I said.

" Throw stones at a window and see who appears." said William.

" Too obvious." said Joe. " Just get down out of sight."

Joe crept toward the cottage and hid in the undergrowth near one of the bedroom windows. Suddenly when he was out of sight he made the most horrendous squeal like a cat screeching at something, there was a pause then he did it again. There was a rattling a bang and the window opened, the second sisters head popped out and she shouted 'shoo you pesky animal shoo'. Joe rattled some branches as if something was running away. The second sister looked around for a moment then went back in the room and closed the window. A few moment later Joe came back. Well it was one down but we could not use the same ploy at another window. I then realised we did not have to I told them to look at the window the sister poked her head out of, it has curtains and that the second window had curtains. There are only two other windows on the first floor nether had curtains, there was one very dirty small one and one which had the glass cleaned regularly. I thought that was bound to be the one Barbrella was in. William wanted to know why I thought that. I told him I could imagine that she would sit in there looking out dreaming, so she would clean the glass regularly. Smart thinking said Joe, if you're right.

We decided to risk it with the ladder, putting the ladder up to the window and trying to make as little noise as possible, which was difficult in the dark. As me and Joe held the ladder I whispered to William to up you go and quickly flash the light into the window to make sure its the right room.

" I can't go up there." whispered William.

" Why not. " I whispered.

" I'm frightened of heights." whispered William. " I go dizzy."

" You've picked a fine time to tell us that." I whispered

" It's too dark to see how high you are anyway." whispered Joe.

" Sorry." whispered William.

" I'll go." whispered Joe.

Joe took the bicycle torch and slowly climbed the ladder, when he got level with the window he gingerly looked in, he then brought the torch close to one of the window pains and switched it on for a few seconds. We could just make out his shadow against the window, he extended his arm and gave us the thumbs us signal. He then tapped lightly on the glass. The was a long pause that seemed to last forever, then a little rattle and the window slid half open, there was some whispering and Joe shown his torch down at me and William for a fraction of a second. As the torch beam swung round before Joe switched it off we saw Barbrellas face break out in a huge smile. There was some more whispering and a candle was lit in the room. Barbrella came back to the window and they both started to push at the window, it was stuck half way and it was not open wide enough to climb out of.

Joe gave the window an almighty shove and the window moved, unfortunately it jumped out of its wooden grove and toppled outwards onto Joe. Barbrella gave a tiny squeal as Joe toppled backward clinging onto the window. Luckily Barbrella still had hold on one corner of the window frame, this yanked her outwards but her weight prevented Joe from falling off the ladder. They both pulled back against the wall. After a few deep breaths Joe pushed the window sash through the window opening and put it into the room. Joe then climbed into the room and signalled me to come up the ladder.

" What's up." I whispered when my head was level with the open window.

" You help Barbrella down." whispered Joe ." My knees have gone all wobbly."

" Will you be alright." I whispered.

" In a minute." whispered Joe. " By the time you two are down."

" Have you got to get anything." I ask Barbrella.

" Only this." she said handing me a small bundle tied up in a sheet. I looked at it a bit oddly. " I was prepared, I was hoping." she said.

I took the bundle and handed it down to william on the ground. I then steadied Barbrella as she gingerly climbed out of the window. I held onto her lovely little ankle and guided it to the top rung of the ladder, her second foot followed and we were soon down on the ground. Joe blew out the candle and quickly followed.

Hearts pounding we hid the ladder in the undergrowth and hid waiting to see if there was any movement from the cottage, there was none. We crept out to the road then cycled through the village, round the dick pond, to a chorus of ducks and on up the footpath back to the farm. Me and Joe led the way with Barbrella sitting on the rear handlebars in front of Joe, William followed.

When we arrived at the farm we found that Sir Calverton had got his chauffeur to get his car out. It was waiting with a large food hamper, some champagne and some clothes for Barbrella, these donated by Sir Calvertons daughter. It was all arranged the chauffeur was going to take Barbrella and William to the railway station where they were booked on the midnight train to take them to Sir Calvertons scottish estate where they could get married.

I only ever heard from Barbrella twice after that. Two postcards, the first a week later saying that she and William were married and were very happy. The second postcard a year later said they were going to name the baby after me. Poor thing.