back.’
They watched the Chadwicks walk off towards the marquee. A few minutes later, Cooper saw their daughter drifting through the showground, dark hair hanging over her face, her manner giving the impression that she was far too sophisticated for all this nonsense.
‘Oh, hello,’ she said when he stopped her.
‘You’re off to university soon, aren’t you?’
‘God, yes. I can’t wait.’
‘Is it that bad?’
‘I need to get away. I have to get away from them.’
‘From your parents?’
‘Yeah. Well… from all of them. All the people here, in this place. Look at it. Our house is a like a prison inside a prison.’
She drifted away again, and was swallowed up by a group of young people. No doubt some of the same bunch that had been at the party on Thursday night.
The crowds were getting thicker now as the show became busier. The clothes on display were fascinating in themselves. Cooper saw pink wellies, white wellies with blue polka dots, wellies with roses on them. An incredible range of dogs was here at the show, too. Within a few yards he passed Great Danes, spaniels, pugs, golden retrievers, Airedales. There was even a St Bernard – and you didn’t see those very often. No Dobermanns, though.
He looked at Villiers, trying to decide if it was a good time to ask her a personal question.
‘I wondered,’ he said. ‘I thought you might have reverted to your maiden name when you came back here to Derbyshire.’
‘I suppose I ought to,’ she said. ‘Yes, you’re right, I should.’
‘But…?’
‘But?’ She turned her face away. ‘Well, Glen’s name is the only part of him that I have left. How could I just throw that aside?’
There was nothing he could say to that.
‘Let’s try down this way.’
From his sign, Cooper gathered that the children’s entertainer was called Doctor Woof. And the dog seemed to be called Trevor. Surely it would have made more sense if the entertainer’s name was Trevor and the dog was Doctor Woof? But perhaps they had swapped personalities. The dummy certainly seemed to be the more lively of the two.
Doctor Woof was doing magic tricks now, and the kids were lapping it up. He’d gathered quite a crowd, and they could hear his voice repeatedly urging overenthusiastic children to stay in the prize zone.
Watching the entertainer in action, Cooper had the feeling of recognition again. He couldn’t be sure under all that makeup and the false beard, but he felt this was someone he’d seen before. But to become a children’s entertainer, Doctor Woof must have been CRB checked. If there was nothing found against him at the Criminal Records Bureau, then his own contact with him couldn’t have been anything too serious.
After a while, Cooper found he could distinguish local residents from visitors. The locals wore outdoor clothes and sensible footwear, and tended to congregate near the gymkhana ring or the produce tent. Periodically they moved slowly up and down the aisle between the two, meeting each other and chatting in front of the RSPB stand. They seemed to be the local equivalent of Parisian promenaders. Couples met, air-kissed and chatted briefly. Then they moved on to the next encounter by the jam stall. A cry of Give everyone our love! drifted on the air behind them.
On the other hand, most of the visitors from out of the area seemed to have dressed in the confident expectation that it never rained in Derbyshire in August. But it was a bank holiday weekend, for heaven’s sake. It always rained.
During the showers, they all milled around the tea tent, dodging each other with trays of tea and cakes. It was a peculiarly British thing, the way people were able to drink tea and eat ice cream while sitting in the rain, yet still seem to be enjoying themselves.
‘Look at Mr Nowak,’ said Villiers. ‘No one is talking to him. They don’t even seem to acknowledge his presence. I saw one woman speak to his dog, but not to him.’
‘He came, though,’ said Cooper.
‘So why is he here? He must have known it would be like this.’
‘To be part of the village, I think. To feel that he belongs.’
Villiers shook her head. ‘Surely it just rubs in the fact that no one else thinks he does belong.’
‘It’s a very deep instinct, the urge to belong, the need to be part of a group. People will put up with all kinds of humiliations in their desire to be accepted.’
‘Like initiations.’
‘Exactly. It happens everywhere, from street gangs to the police.’
‘And the military,’ said Villiers. ‘But sometimes they go too far, as we know.’
‘Mmm. Are you thinking…?’
‘That someone humiliated Mr Nowak a bit too much. It’s possible.’
A hundred yards away, a man was shouting. At first Cooper thought it was part of the show. Another children’s entertainer, perhaps. But this one sounded too aggressive. And that language he could hear wasn’t suitable for children, surely?
‘What’s all the commotion over there?’
‘It looks like Richard Nowak and Alan Slattery.’
‘Had we better sort it out?’ said Villiers.
‘Give it a minute.’
They moved a bit closer, watching the angry gestures, trying to hear what the raised voices were saying. It was difficult to tell which of the men was the most irate, or what they were arguing about.
‘Mrs Slattery and the Nowaks are direct neighbours too,’ said Cooper.
‘Interesting. Is this what you were hoping for, Ben?’
‘Sort of.’
Villiers shook her head. ‘In some of the countries I’ve served in, people are incredibly polite to each other,’ she said. ‘There’s often a very elaborate system of manners, so elaborate that it becomes a ritual. And I think that’s because those are large populations of people living cheek by jowl, right in each other’s pockets. Sometimes you might have someone living literally on your doorstep. In those circumstances, you’ve got to have a way of masking the animosity that builds up between individuals.’
‘But here, they don’t seem to think it’s necessary?’
‘Well, they’ve got a certain amount of distance between each other. Or at least, the illusion of distance. And all that seems to have done is break down the barriers of courtesy. The animosity comes right out in the open.’
‘It’s a property thing,’ said Cooper. ‘Owning property is a very British obsession. And once you own it, you have to defend it against all comers. I’ve seen it so often.’
He didn’t mention that he’d seen it in his own brother. Villiers hadn’t asked about his family yet, but he was sure she would before long. He was certain that she knew all about his father. Everyone with any connection to Edendale knew about the death of Sergeant Joe Cooper. In fact, he recalled her writing a letter, which had arrived just after the funeral. She was serving overseas somewhere then. He remembered opening the letter with its foreign stamp and discovering it was from his old school friend, offering her sympathy.
But she might not know about the more recent death of his mother. It depended who she’d talked to since she’d been back. It was strange to think that this person he hadn’t seen for so long might know everything about him.
‘I suppose it’s why guns are illegal in Britain,’ she said. ‘Neighbours would be shooting each other every week otherwise.’
There was a final flurry of shouting, and some shocked gasps from onlookers.
‘Uh-oh,’ said Cooper.
‘Incoming,’ said Villiers.
