To Dream of the Dead

Signalling to Jane to put the clothes on the sofa, telling Bliss quickly about Shirley West, the Church of the Lord of the Light, the damage, the graffiti. He didn’t say anything. He got her to go over a couple of points again. He asked her if Stooke had had any other obvious injuries. Twice he said drowned isn’t right. Clearly he was not impressed.

‘Is there…’ shaking now ‘… something I don’t know?’

‘A lot. Listen, gorra get things organised this end, then I’ll call you back from the car. We’re coming over. Only problem is how we get into the village.’

‘You’ll have to leave your vehicles the other side of the footbridge at Caple End, and I’ll have to persuade people to pick you up. How many?’

‘Say half a dozen, initially. More later if we agree with you. Or if…’

‘What?’

‘Keep your mobile on, I’ll see you at Caple End.’

‘It won’t be me. I have a service to do.’

‘Oh, Merrily!’

‘It’s Christmas Eve. It’s what I do. How long before you get here?’

‘Thirty, forty minutes. I can call you back in five from the car.’

‘All right, I’ll wait.’

Despite dry clothes and the electric fire, she was still shivering. The rain was no more than a peppering now and, through the scullery window, you could see the grey-blue froth of night clouds.

Gomer was going to Caple End with his big Jeep, Jane and Eirion to the church to tell people the service would be a little delayed. But first…

Jane came into the scullery alone, shut the door behind her.

‘It won’t wait, will it?’ Merrily said. ‘Only—’

‘No,’ Jane said, ‘I don’t think it will.’

Jane told her about Professor Blore’s private report to the Council. His alleged discovery of comparatively modern masonry and artefacts under one of the stones.

‘What does Neil Cooper say?’

‘He thinks Blore’s lying. Really he’s scared to say what he thinks. Scared of losing his job. Looks like Blore could’ve been got at by… I don’t know.’

‘A combination, probably. Landowner, developers… maybe several of them already getting in line for a stake in Ledwardine New Town.’ Merrily instinctively reaching for a cigarette, letting her hand fall empty to the desk. ‘Would take a lot, mind, to make it worthwhile for Blore to virtually destroy everything. The henge? How sure are you and Neil about the henge?’

‘It’s got to be more than wishful thinking. It’s just—’

A tapping on the window. Lol’s face. Thank God.

‘I’ll let him in,’ Jane said.

‘No, I’ll do it. You go to the church with Eirion. Tell whoever’s there, if anybody, that I’m sorry and I’ll be with them in ten minutes, soon as I’ve spoken to Bliss again.’

‘Mum, you don’t have to do this. We’re in the middle of a crisis here. Even the church has been—’

‘That’s why I have to do it.’

‘And I haven’t finished,’ Jane said.

But Merrily was already into the passage, and the phone was ringing behind her.

You could only see the ghost of the last word now. Witch.

James Bull-Davies had been as good as his word. The Bull, Lucy used to call him, always having difficulty separating him from his more unsavoury ancestors. Maybe she would now, having seen him scrubbing at her gravestone.

He was in the church, making sure nobody went near the vestry. His old car wouldn’t start, and Eirion had gone in his place to Caple End to ferry cops to Ledwardine. Jane put her hands on the shoulders of Lucy’s stone. It was becoming a natural thing to do, made her feel stronger and less confused. In theory.

‘That your gran, is it?’

She looked up, mildly startled; hadn’t noticed him coming over.

‘What are you doing here? I thought you’d gone home for Christmas. Thought you’d be legless in High Town by now.’

‘Bleeding bridge. Should’ve left earlier. The fucking sticks, eh?’

‘You could’ve gone on one of the coaches.’

‘Prefer me own wheels, sweetheart,’ Gregory said. ‘Anyway, I don’t live in Hereford. Not enough happening for me. Figured in the end might as well stay here as go there.’

‘You went to Lol’s gig?’

‘Who?’

‘Lol Robinson? The gig at the Swan?’

‘Didn’t you see me?’

‘I didn’t get to see much of it in the end.’

‘It was good,’ Gregory said.

The night was lighter now. Not much, but enough to make out his thin features. He looked starved. He was wearing a short leather jacket and tight black trousers that looked like they were fused to his legs.

‘You’re soaked.’

Really soaked. He even smelled wet. ‘Where’s your bloke, Jane?’

‘He’s… gone to help bring some people from Caple End.’

‘Coppers?’

‘Maybe.’

‘They’ve even closed the footbridge now. Nobody can get across the river without having to walk about ten miles to the next bridge. That’s what people’s saying. What’s that about?’

‘Somebody got drowned.’

‘That a fact.’

‘Guy who lived near your site, actually. Cole Barn?’

‘Don’t know it.’

‘You never walked over there?’

‘What for?’

‘Just… a walk.’

‘A walk,’ Gregory said. ‘You people kill me.’

‘What people?’

‘People who can live in a shithole like this and go for… walks.’

‘Hey, it’s not my fault you got wet.’

‘Never said it was.’ He seemed on edge. Angry. ‘Not seen Blore, have you?’

‘Not for a while.’

‘He’s got the keys to my bleedin’ caravan. Give him the keys when I thought I was leaving.’

‘If I see him, I’ll… get somebody to tell him you’re looking for him.’

‘Thanks.’

Jane said, ‘Gregory… you know all that stuff you were giving us about Blore having sex with his students?’

‘So?’’

‘Anybody special?’

‘When?’

‘Currently?’

‘Nah. He don’t separate them out much when he’s pissed. It’s all fires and mantelpieces with Blore.’ Gregory nodded at the people filing into church. ‘Wass all this?’

‘Midnight service… delayed. They’re waiting for my mum. She’s the vicar.’

‘Must be popular, night like this.’

‘I think people are a bit… spooked. The flood. The drowning. Want a bit of reassurance. And — I keep