Perpetual motion

The constable's encounters with the Beaker Bug had confused his mind as much as they had contused his body. As he saw the buggy moving up the hill before him, he decided to chase after it and catch it. It was, he believed, an essential piece of evidence if he was to bring Miss Knightley and Billy Enright to justice. Moreover, he feared that if those two miscreants were allowed access to it, they might leap aboard and disappear up the hill at high speed. Determined to prevent their escape at all costs, he lumbered after the buggy as fast as he could in regulation police boots. In fact, the spring was exhausted within a few yards, and the buggy came to an abrupt halt. The constable did not. He tripped over the front end and fell forward onto it. He put his hands forward to break his fall, hitting the clutch lever. The clutch now being disengaged, the buggy began to freewheel back down the hill, with Bunting once again lying along it, travelling feet first, but this time face down rather than face up.

Staring at the floor of the buggy, he decided that this could not really be happening. Perhaps if he closed his eyes and went to sleep, he would wake up in his own bed and find that it had all been a bad dream. He closed his eyes, and the buggy proceeded unimpeded to the bottom of the hill. At that point the road curved sharply to the right. The buggy kept straight on into the ditch, in which it deposited Bunting on his back, falling upside down on top of him.

* * *

As they walked down the hill, Billy suggested to Miss Knightley that PC Bunting was not at home with mechanical contrivances, and offered in evidence the defects he had observed in the policeman's bicycle, which he was wheeling. They lifted the Beaker Bug out of the ditch and set it right way up. Billy was glad to see that it had come to little harm. Then, taking an arm apiece, they pulled Bunting out of the ditch. It took him some minutes of heavy breathing before he could bring himself to speak, and when at last he did so, his words came out as a growl.

"Now then. I hope you realise, Miss Knightley, that it is a very serious offence to assault a constable?"

"I do indeed, Mr Bunting, and I assure you that if ever Billy or I observe someone assaulting you, we shall come to your assistance."

Bunting's growl grew deeper. "Not someone, Miss Knightley - you! You have assaulted me!"

"I, Constable? What can you mean? I fear your little accident may have confused your mind. The only physical contact Billy and I have made with your person was in order to help you out of the ditch after you had lost control of Billy's buggy. Really, a grown man like you should not play with these things, especially if you have forgotten how to use them."

"That's another thing. Dangerous driving. You knocked me off my bicycle with your dangerous driving."

"I really do think you must be hallucinating, Constable. I have not driven a motor vehicle for some years."

"That thing, madam, that thing which you choose to call a buggy. You were driving that in a reckless manner."

Miss Knightley emitted a trilling laugh. "Oh, come, Constable! You don't seriously mean to tell me that you are prepared to stand in front of a magistrate and ask him to believe that a little boy's buggy is a motor vehicle for the purposes of the Act?"

In other circumstances, Billy would have been mortally offended to be described as a little boy, but in their present situation he could see the advantages of that status, and immediately stuck a thumb into his mouth, twiddled a lock of his hair with a finger of the other hand, and made an effort to simper.

Bunting glared at him in fury, then turned back to Miss Knightley. "Be that as it may, madam, you can't deny that offences have been committed - serious offences."

"Indeed they have, Constable, and I shall be perfectly willing to attest to them if that is what you want."

"That's better. I knew you'd see sense, an educated lady like yourself. Where shall we begin?"

"Well now, how about 'riding a bicycle furiously, to the danger of other road users'? Then there's 'riding a bicycle in an unroadworthy condition, to wit having inadequate brakes and worn tyres, contrary to the Highways Act 1918, Schedule II, Pedal Cycles, Construction and Use thereof, section 6, part 2'."

In her long years of teaching, Miss Knightley had perfected the art of uttering invented facts with an air of authority which brooked no challenge, and she correctly surmised that Bunting's knowledge of the law was less than extensive. Bunting shuffled his feet and squirmed like a naughty schoolboy. The slight twisting of his body was a mistake, for it enabled Miss Knightley to spot the outline of a flask in his tunic pocket. She moved in for the coup de grace.

"And then, of course, there is 'drinking on duty' and 'riding a bicycle while under the influence'."

Bunting made an attempt to save face. "Well now, Miss Knightley, seeing as how it is a first offence, and you have hitherto been of good character, I might be prepared to overlook what has happened, provided you promise . . ."

"No undertakings are called for, Constable. I think you will decide, on reflection, that your wisest course of action would be to put this morning's events from your mind, and to hope that Master Enright and myself can find it in our hearts to be charitable enough to do the same. Good day to you, Sir."

Bunting knew when he was beaten. He picked up his bicycle and began the long weary trudge up Holly Rise, muttering to himself. "The next time the Squire complains that someone is a-poaching of his rabbits, I'm going to tell him to get his self a flaming gamekeeper!" Miss Knightley and Billy stood watching him go, hands over their mouths to stifle their amusement at the sight of his back, liberally daubed with mud from the ditch, bedecked with leaves, twigs, and even an insect or two. Then they collected the Beaker Bug and made their way back to the school.

They put the buggy away, and Miss Knightley made them some refreshments. After a moment's silence she said, "You know, Billy, we were quite lucky today. Somebody could have been hurt. I don't think we should use the buggy any more."

She looked at him keenly, afraid of his reaction. Billy, however, had reached the same conclusion, albeit on different grounds. However much fun the Beaker Bug might provide in the future, he could never expect to find it as entertaining as he had today.

"You're right, Miss. From now on it should be just for show."

She regarded him with warm affection, and he returned her gaze. Each of them smiled in recollection of the test run.

"It was fun, though, wasn't it, Miss?" Billy ventured.

"It was that, Billy - more fun than I've had in years. You should have seen his expression the first time he caught sight of us. I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head!"

"Then when he came whizzing down on his bike with his legs sticking out!"

"Only to meet the Beaker Bug going back up!"

"Did you see the look on his face, Miss, when the buggy came back down and got him the first time!"

"Did I not!"

"And off he went, Miss, flat on his back!"

"But he couldn't have had enough, because when he got off, he chased it back up the hill!"

"Only to trip over it and ride back down again! Flat on his face!"

"It's a pity he ran out of road, otherwise he could still be chasing it up and riding it down, chasing it up and riding it down, on and on, for ever and ever!"

Billy looked at Miss Knightley, then shrieked, "Perpetual motion!" and they collapsed into each other's arms, laughing hysterically.

* * *

The summer holidays ended the following week, and the new school year began. Billy had passed the scholarship examination with flying colours, and joined form 1A at the Nutchester Grammar School for Boys. Miss Knightley and Mr Abbott both observed this progress with justifiable pride. Docile pupils never caused as much trouble as Billy, but nor did they ever afford the same sense of satisfied achievement.

As for the Beaker Bug and the other models, they were transferred to the education authority to be used as teaching aids in the county's schools. They were particularly popular with the senior physics master of the grammar school, who found them of great help with his sixth form pupils. Miss Knightley had not released them, however, without stipulation. At her insistence, every one bore a small brass plate, engraved:

Designed and constructed by

Billy Enright

1952