‘And you learned about woad there, did you?’ Harry asked.
‘No idea,’ Liz shrugged.
‘Well, as interesting as though that all is,’ Harry said, ‘and ignoring your skirt reference, which I’m sure Gordy would be more than a little aggrieved about, what exactly am I learning from any of this?’
‘Woad was a blue body paint that they wore for battle,’ Liz said. ‘That’s all I know. Probably thought it gave them protection or something.’
‘Well, I’m probably going out on a limb here,’ Harry said, ‘but I’m going to state here and now for the record that I very much doubt we’re dealing with either Mel Gibson or a Pictish warrior.’
‘And definitely not a Viking,’ Liz added.
‘Could be a re-enactor?’ Jadyn suggested.
‘A re-en what?’ Harry asked.
‘You know, people who dress up like they’re from a different bit of history?’
‘No, I don’t know,’ Harry said, wondering why he was encouraging Jadyn to keep speaking. ‘Do people like that actually exist?’
‘We had this school trip once,’ Jaydn began, but Harry held up a hand.
‘Just out of interest, and before you go any further, are all of your anecdotes going to be referencing your school life?’
‘Er, no, I mean, at least I don’t think so, no,’ Jaydn said.
‘Just checking,’ said Harry. ‘Please continue.’
Jaydn didn’t look too sure.
‘I mean it,’ Harry said, doing his best to sound convincing. ‘Maybe you’re onto something. I doubt it, but what have we got to lose? So, this school trip, then?’
‘We went to this castle,’ Jaydn said, a little more hesitantly this time. ‘It was a ruin, and there were all these people dressed up like they were from the time when it had been an actual castle. They would answer questions and stuff, you know?’
‘So it was a good day out, then?’ Harry asked.
Jadyn gave a nod.
‘What about the files, then?’ Harry asked. ‘Anything interesting?’
‘Not really, no,’ Liz said, ‘but then we’ve only started looking, haven’t we? Though there’s this bit here, which is a bit odd.’
Harry looked at the section Liz was pointing at and recognised it.
‘It’s all been scribbled over,’ Liz said. ‘Don’t really know why and we can’t make out the words behind the scribble. From the notes above and below it, whatever it is or was, it happened in the winter.’
‘Yeah, the date’s still clear,’ Harry said, point at it with a finger on the page. ‘And the names.’
‘Most of the names from the class are still local,’ Liz said. ‘I thought I might give them a call, see if someone remembers anything? It’s a long shot, but you never know.’
Harry yawned and said, ‘Well, you may as well. And I’m assuming you’re on duty tonight, right?’
‘Night shift is always fun,’ Liz said. ‘The files will give me something to do between making sure people don’t dick around too much when they head home at closing time and answering the numerous emergency calls that I won’t be getting.’
‘And you’ve some company, hey, Jadyn?’ Harry said. ‘Just out of interest, if you’re from down dale, where are you staying?’
‘I’ve a bed at one of the pubs,’ Jadyn said. ‘But I don’t need much sleep, so I’ll be fine.’
Harry walked over to the office door.
‘I’ll see you both tomorrow, then,’ he said. ‘Who knows, perhaps by then, we might have some idea of what we’re all actually doing . . .’
Outside, the cool evening swept in to grab at Harry’s clothes, snapping them around him as he made his way through Hawes to his new digs. The rain had eased just enough to keep the numerous puddles topped up. It was another late one, and this time Harry was pretty sure that a pizza and beer was a bad idea. So instead, he just grabbed enough bits and bobs to put together some decent sandwiches, then continued on his way.
The night sky was clearing, the wind casting the thick clouds above into long black wisps, like the tails of giant horses, and beyond the buildings of the marketplace he could just make out the distant silhouettes of the hills beyond, their presence ominous over the town below. It was quiet, too, and the haunting bleats from sheep far off, drifted faintly through the air. And behind that he noticed something else. It was a cold scent, if something could ever be described as such, Harry thought, a smell of damp, or perhaps waves on a stony shore. Rain was coming, again, he thought, and he hoped to God that the change in the weather wasn’t an omen of things to come. Because if a storm was coming, he wasn’t exactly sure that the dales were ready for it, in more ways than one. But then again, perhaps the storm was already here . . .
Morning crashed into Harry’s life with a thunderous crack, which sounded like the roof had just been ripped off by some ancient and clearly very angry demigod. On taking a peek through the bedroom window, Harry stared out into a day barely beyond dawn and as dark as a derelict dockside warehouse. Rain was hammering down, wind grabbing it and throwing it in all directions, twisting it into great spinning sheets to whip against the world. The hills he had spied the evening before were now hidden, the sky nothing but an angry grey mass attacking the world below with torrents of rain and thick, bright shards of lightning. Another blast of thunder broke free, shaking the window in its frame.
Harry checked the time and wished that he hadn’t done seeing as it was only four thirty in the morning. But he knew that there was little to no point trying to get back to sleep again, not with the violent maelstrom outside doing its very best to level the world beneath it. So, making far too many old-man noises, he heaved himself out of the bedroom and headed off
