"Looks like you've no choice, Julia.  Not if you want to make more than Dorothy and honour demands that you do.  I'm so sorry, it's going to be awful for you, you poor thing!"

Julia, if she was worried about her impending fate, showed remarkably little sign of it as Mrs Jenkinson came up to the two girls, smiling broadly.

"Well, Julia.  Had any more thoughts about your decision not to be our Pagan Sacrifice?  You want to be the biggest draw of the day, don't you?  This is the only way, my dear.  Shall we get it   over with now?"

Julia smiled sweetly and said "You just don't give up, do you?  And I'll thank you to call me Miss Raynsford in future, Mrs Jenkinson.  I greatly dislike your unsolicited and odious familiarity as does my Uncle."

Mrs J paled with rage at this coolly delivered rebuff and a scintilla of doubt entered her mind.  Perhaps her triumph, so carefully planned, was to be denied her after all.  Then she recovered herself.  This was just a bit of bravado on the part of the defeated Julia, who would shortly submit herself to her fate.

Before Mrs Jenkinson could open her mouth,  Julia continued.  She had been looking forward to this all day!

"I agree with you, though, that that fishmongers slab does need an occupant.  Those two towel heads look a bit redundant standing next to an empty altar!"

Her last remark was a reference to two men dressed in sheets and some kind of improvised turbans, meant to represent a pair of Druid Priests, each standing on one side of the altar, ready to perform the sacrifice when the time came.  Mr Moss, the barber had been chatting to them on and off all day.

"Yes, Mrs. Jenkinson we need a sacrifice and I know just the lady!  You, Mrs Jenkinson!  Come on, Mrs Jenkinson - get those clothes off!"

At this monstrous suggestion the lady Councillor went a shade paler and then laughed.

"We need a virgin, Julia - remember that!"

The sound of Julia slapping an astounded  Mrs Jenkinson hard across her face rang out around the square.

"I thought I told you to call me Miss Raynsford, you insolent woman!"

By this time Mrs J knew that things were not going as she had planned and she remained speechless as her young intended victim continued.

"What makes you think I'm a virgin, you daft old bat?  I ceased to be one of those shortly after my fourteenth birthday - a lovely experience,  and it's been repeated many times since!  Come to think of it, the next time should be tomorrow with a delightful and lovely man that I'm going to marry soon."

Her voice dropped to a whisper and she put her hands on the older woman's shoulders.

"And another thing, Mrs Jenkinson.  Apart from the odd kiss and cuddle with my cousin, all very innocent,  I always do it with men.  Never had a yen to do it with man's best friend.  Funny thing that - don't suppose you'd understand!"

From being white with rage, Mrs Jenkinson's face became green with fear.  She forced herself to speak.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Ju- Miss Raynsford"  She saw Julia's hand raised again, ready to strike and corrected herself in time.

"Of course you know what I'm talking about.  I have some photographs of you, which you drunkenly allowed to be taken last September by that loathsome man Charlie Watkins.  He was persuaded to let me have  them. I was literally sick when I saw them, you horrible old sow.  I'm sure even the degenerate inbred inhabitants of this village won't be too happy either when they get to see them!"

"You wouldn't"

"Oh, yes I would!   And you know it.  Get undressed this second!   We're wasting time!"

"How do I know you have the photographs?"

"You'll just have to take my word for it. They were taken in a clearing in Pettifer’s Woods and you were wearing that mauve hat which I never liked, and very little else - my word, but you looked ridiculous!  I don't believe in telling lies, Mrs Jenkinson -never have - not even to a repulsive unnatural perverted bitch like you.  Get undressed!  I'm beginning to lose my temper with you!"

People were beginning to take an interest in this little altercation by now, and Mrs J, fearful that the conversation might be overheard, began tremblingly to comply.

Julia was impressed by the sight of the nude Mrs Jenkinson and so were the members of the coach load of American and Commonwealth  English-descended tourists who had just begun disembarking.  She was not yet forty and obviously believed in keeping herself fit.  There was not a wrinkle or a bit of sagging flesh on her.  Her medium sized breasts were as firm as if she were still in her twenties.  All in all, she made a very satisfactory sacrificial victim - not,  for one second, to be compared to the lovely Julia, but good enough to pass muster before this audience of already more than half  inebriated yokels.

A triumphant Julia led the poor wretch across to the altar.  She curtly bade the two phoney looking priests to piss off (a rare use of obscenity on her  part, which she instantly regretted, apologising very charmingly to them for her rudeness, but nevertheless making it clear that their services were no longer required.)

"Beatrice and I are going to be the naked Priestesses, Mrs J.  Don't worry.  We'll take good care of you!"