Of course, as soon as they saw the animal, everyone agreed that it was the most peculiar wolf they’d ever seen. That was quickly followed by angry murmurings and some customers even demanding their money back. As disappointing as it was, Seebold was forced to close down the Red Riding Hood enclosure and his mate, Danny, was summoned to come and fetch his dog.

Lena had stayed on at the Wonderland, putting together an attraction of her own. Once the land she had bought near Bridge Halt had been properly enclosed, she’d acquired three little ponies. Each day she would walk them to the Wonderland where they would spend most of the day giving small children rides around the park. Having three meant two could rest while one worked. The rides proved to be popular but, like Seebold, she suffered a reduced income because of the weather. Neither of them talked about the forthcoming court case but Lena had used some of her inheritance to get a good solicitor and barrister. Seebold had borrowed money from Milly (although she had told him not to worry about paying it back) for the same reason.

At the start of this sorry state of affairs, Seebold and Lena had only been accused of wasting police time, but by the time it came to court, the case had been further complicated by the farmer who had tried to persuade Seebold to compensate him for the loss of his sheep. His tale of woe, printed in full in the Worthing Herald and the Chichester Gazette, with graphic pictures of the dead sheep lying in a ditch, made good reading, but when the police saw it they were even more suspicious. To them it was beginning to look as if all three of them had colluded together with the reporter, Archibald Crump, solely for the purposes of publicity. The unfortunate sheep was dug up and an autopsy concluded that although it had probably died of natural causes, there were several severe knife wounds on its carcass. Seebold and Lena, along with the other two defendants, were charged with ‘conspiring, combining and confederating and agreeing together to commit a certain misdemeanour, namely to commit a public mischief by their conduct and certain false statements, to wit, that a wolf which was being transported to Worthing, had escaped at Shoreham’.

While it was a relief to discover that they probably wouldn’t be sent to prison if convicted, it could still result in a hefty fine. Lena accepted that if that happened she would lose most of her inheritance, but Seebold was afraid he might be made bankrupt.

Though Milly was very worried for them both, she was, in many respects, enjoying a season of success. Since she’d gone freelance she’d been extremely busy, so much so that it was hard to fit in her studies. As soon as her father’s will had been settled, she paid off her debt to the college and made sure her tuition fees were up-to-date. With the examinations in July, Milly was destined to spend most of the lead-up to her exams swatting.

She’d also been thrilled when Principal Salt had hung one of her paintings in the school. It was of a nightjar. Milly had divided the picture into two halves. One half had the nightjar completely camouflaged by its woodland surroundings. If you looked very carefully you could just see the bird’s eye. The other half of the picture showed the same bird in the same position but with a slight change in the light, so you could now see its whole shape and its grey-brown mottled plumage. Principal Salt considered it an excellent piece of work.

The only hiccup Milly had experienced recently was when she went up to Muntham Court to collect her bicycle. She’d been forced to leave it there the day the police took her in for questioning, and had been too busy ever since to fetch it. She’d walked from the bus stop one evening and found it round the back of the house, leaning against the greenhouse. Her intention was to ride it back to her digs, but she hadn’t got very far before the whole thing fell apart. The handlebar went into her side, giving her a painful jolt, and she scraped her knee rather badly, though she’d been lucky enough to tumble off onto grass or it could have been quite nasty. She was very upset when, on closer examination, it became clear that someone had deliberately tampered with it by loosening the wheel nuts – but why? With the bike in bits, she’d had no alternative but to put it back where she’d found it and walk back to the bus stop. It took a couple of weeks for the pain and discomfort in her side to go.

Seebold and Lena had been sent for trial by Worthing magistrates. They had to go the Crown assizes in September, so they drove to Lewes in Seebold’s lorry. Uncle Neville had advised Milly, and any charges they’d planned to bring against her had been dropped. Because she hadn’t stayed to be photographed, it was concluded that she had only been a passenger in the lorry and not an active participant in the deception. Archibald Crump and James William Doyle had been remanded in custody because they had resisted arrest – Doyle had been so incensed that he’d knocked off a policeman’s helmet. As a result, they arrived in police vans and both faced additional charges. Milly, who had been told not to contact her sister or Seebold before giving evidence, had arrived the day before the court case commenced and had taken a room in the Swan Inn. She was a witness for the defence, so she had to wait until she was called before being allowed to hear the proceedings. When she arrived at court, she and the other people who were to be called as witnesses had to wait in a specially designated room. The case had attracted a lot of press interest so the streets outside the courtroom were already heaving with spectators. It was all rather nerve-wracking, and she was terrified that she might do or say something which might make matters worse for her friends.

‘Good luck,’ Milly mouthed as she saw Lena and Seebold being escorted elsewhere.

The first two days were taken up with legal proceedings and the trial itself didn’t get properly under way until Wednesday. Seebold, Lena, Archibald Crump and Farmer Doyle were together in the dock. Mr Bennet of the prosecution called the first witness.

Robert Knox, a small balding man, took the oath and told the court that he was a vet. Mr Bennet asked him about the animal in question.

Mr Knox laced his fingers through his braces. ‘I was summoned to the Worthing Wonderland by the local police to look at a wolf,’ he said, his feet rising a couple of inches as he spoke. ‘They wanted me to ascertain its condition and confirm that it was none the worse for its experience.’

‘Who owned the animal?’

‘Seebold,’ said Mr Knox, nodding towards the dock.

‘C. Bold?’ Mr Bennet queried.

Mr Knox sounded a little irritated. ‘Mr Seebold Flowers.’

Several people in the public gallery giggled.

‘And was the wolf in good health?’ Mr Knox enquired.

‘The animal in question was perfectly healthy,’ said Mr Knox, ‘for its age.’

‘For its age, Mr Knox?’ Mr Bennet repeated. ‘Why do you say that?’

‘I judged it to be well past its prime,’ the witness said, turning his head for the benefit of all present. ‘Looking at the few teeth it had left, I would say that it was at least ten years old or more.’ There was a pause, then Mr Knox added, ‘And it wasn’t a wolf.’

There were audible gasps in the courtroom.

Mr Bennet looked up with a shocked expression, as if he had been taken completely by surprise. ‘Not a wolf, Mr Knox?’ he said incredulously. ‘Then pray tell me, what sort of animal was it?’

‘A dog,’ said Mr Knox, his feet rising again. ‘A crossbreed, I would say. Irish wolfhound crossed with something like a German wire-haired pointer mix.’

‘But not a wolf,’ Mr Bennet added for emphasis.

‘No, sir. Not a wolf,’ Mr Knox agreed. There followed the sound of murmurings and laughter in the courtroom. ‘And I must say that, in my opinion,’ Mr Knox continued, ‘if this was done in the name of entertainment, the man in the dock should be ashamed of himself.’

Seebold stared down at the floor, his face colouring with embarrassment.

‘Confine yourself to the facts, please, Mr Knox,’ the judge interrupted. ‘We are not here to consider your opinion.’

The murmurings in the court increased again. The judge banged his gavel.

Having ascertained that a deception had already taken place, the testimonies of the next two witnesses Mr Bennet called were clearly designed to show the effect the fiasco had had on members of the public.

Jack Antell told the court he was a jobbing builder who worked in the Lancing area.

‘You work outside?’

‘I do . . . most of the time.’

‘How did you feel about a wolf being on the loose?’ Mr Bennet asked.

‘I weren’t too boffered. I had a gun—’

‘A gun, Mr Antell?’ the judge interrupted. ‘And where did you keep this gun?’

‘Under me bed, Yer ’Onour,’ Antell said. ‘But all me lady customers, they was all terrified.’ He looked around the courtroom. ‘They was all crying. So I took it wiv me.’ He looked around the courtroom and licked his lips. ‘I ’ad quite a job on that day.’

‘I don’t quite understand you, Mr Antell,’ said the judge.

‘You know, Yer ’Onour,’ he said, giving the judge a wink and a knowing smile. ‘I ’ad to . . . you know . . . give ’em a bit of comfort like.’

A murmur of amusement ran through the court.

‘You seem to have a rather flippant attitude to all this, Mr Antell,’ the judge remarked as counsel sat down out of respect. ‘Did you not understand the seriousness of a wild animal roaming the countryside and reportedly killing sheep?’

‘Oh I did, Yer Worship, my lord, sir,’ said Antell. ‘When I was outside me van, I was pretty nervous meself.’

The judge nodded and counsel rose again.

‘And had you encountered the wolf, Mr Antell, what steps would you have taken?’

‘Very long ones, I reckon.’

The courtroom erupted into laughter and the judge banged his gavel until it subsided.

Mr Carstairs, who was representing Lena and Seebold, had no questions to ask the witness, neither did Mr Phillips, who was representing Archibald Crump, nor did Mr Heuvel, representing Farmer Doyle.

Next to take the stand was Euphemia Gordy. Euphemia informed the court that she was a widow who lived in an isolated spot near the Steyning Road. She had one daughter who was in the habit of cycling to school. ‘When I heard about the wolf, I didn’t want her to go to school that day,’ said Mrs Gordy. ‘I was nervous and upset.’

‘And why were you nervous and upset?’ Mr Bennet asked.

Mrs Gordy’s eyes grew wide and she drew a lace handkerchief from her sleeve. ‘Because she could have been attacked, sir.’ She dabbed her eyes with the lace handkerchief and, turning towards the dock, she shouted at the defendants, ‘She’s my only daughter, the apple of my eye, and she could have been ripped to pieces by that ferocious mad animal; a creature which never ought to be let loose on the public.’