you two drifting apart?’
‘I don’t think so, no. As far as I know, he approved of me. He’s a bit cracked, but he never really gave us any trouble.’
‘Did you ever get together with Penny again later? You were both in London at times, weren’t you?’
‘I suppose so. But I never saw her. Once it was over, that was it.’
‘What did you do while she was off with Steadman?’
‘It wasn’t the way you make it sound, Chief Inspector. Often we all went together; sometimes I just didn’t want to go with them. I read a lot. I’d just discovered the pleasures of literature. My sixth-form English teacher, Mr Nixon, was a brilliant inspiring man, and he managed to undo, in one year, all the damage that the others had done. For the first time, I could enjoy Shakespeare, Eliot, Lawrence, Keats, and the rest with a joy I’d not known before. What I’m saying is that I was a very romantic and introspective young man; I was happy enough to sit by a “babbling brook” and read Wordsworth.’
‘When you weren’t trying to get Penny into bed,’ said Banks, who had once, on Gristhorpe’s recommendation, tried Wordsworth and found him an insufferable bore.
Ramsden blushed. ‘Yes, well… I was a normal adolescent; I don’t deny that.’ He looked at his watch. ‘Look, I don’t mean to seem rude, but I do have to get back to the office. Tell me, before I go, why this fascination with past events?’
‘I’m not really sure,’ Banks said, reaching for his glass. ‘I’m just following my instincts.’
‘And what do your instincts tell you?’
‘That Harold Steadman’s death wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment affair; it was premeditated and it probably had its roots in the past. You see, you were all together ten years ago – you, Penny Cartwright, her father, the Steadmans – and now you’re all back in more or less the same place. Eighteen months after Steadman comes to live in Gratly, he’s dead. Doesn’t that strike you as odd?’
Ramsden brushed back his forelock, which this time actually had slipped over his eyes, then he drained his glass and stood up. ‘Put that way, I suppose it does,’ he said. ‘But I think your instinct is wrong. Things aren’t the same as they were before. For one thing, there are other people around now, too. If you think Harry’s death had anything to do with Penny, I suggest you follow your instinct to Jack Barker. He’s been hanging around with her a lot lately, so I hear. Now good day, Chief Inspector, and thanks for the drink.’
Banks watched Ramsden thread his way between the tables and turned his attention back to the cricket match just in time to see a wicket fall dramatically. The bails flew high in the air and the bowler threw up his arms and yelled, ‘Owzat!’
Banks thought about his talk with Ramsden and wondered if there was anything in what he’d said about Barker. ‘Men have died from time to time, and worms have eaten them, but not for love.’ So his daughter Tracy, playing the fair Rosalind, had said in As You Like It, which had been Eastvale Comprehensive’s school play that term. But it wasn’t true; many had killed and many had died for love. And Penny Cartwright was certainly the kind of woman to stir up such strong feelings.
Suddenly, the air roared and screamed as two F-111s from a nearby US airbase shot overhead. They flew so low that Banks could almost see the pilots’ faces. It was a common enough occurrence in the dales; jet bombers frequently ripped through the peaceful landscape and shattered the idyll as they broke the sound barrier. On the hillside below Crow Scar, scared sheep huddled together and ran for the cover of a drystone wall. People at the tables put their hands over their ears and screwed up their faces.
The planes broke the spell for Banks. There was paperwork to be done that afternoon. Grabbing his jacket, he drained his glass and left the cricketers to finish their game.
THREE
Dinner in the Banks household that evening was a lively affair. It seemed like ages since the family had all sat down together and enjoyed one of Sandra’s delicious concoctions: chicken in tarragon and white-wine sauce. She had a wonderful knack of making the most inexpensive cuts of meat taste like gourmet creations. This skill, Banks thought, was characteristic of someone with inborn good taste and a poor working-class background. All it took, said Sandra, clearly delighted with the compliments, was the right cooking method and a little care with the sauce.
Most of the conversation was taken up by the children’s accounts of their day trip to York.
‘The Minster was smashing,’ enthused Tracy, the bright fourteen-year-old with a passion for history. ‘Do you know, Daddy, there’s more stained glass in there than in any other cathedral in Europe?’
Banks expressed interest and surprise. Architecture had not, so far, been one of his interests, but it was becoming more and more appealing. At the moment he was still reading up on the geology of the dales.
‘And the Five Sisters are simply stunning,’ Tracy went on.
‘Five Sisters?’ Banks asked. ‘In a minster?’
‘Oh, Daddy,’ Tracy laughed, ‘you don’t know anything, do you? The Five Sisters are lancet windows in the north transept. They’re made of grisaille glass. Thirteenth century, I think. And the Rose Window-’
‘It was boring,’ cut in Brian, who all the while had been feeling left out. ‘Just a lot of old statues of dead kings and stuff. Junk, it was. Boring.’
‘You’re just a philistine,’ Tracy retorted, pronouncing the word with both difficulty and authority. ‘I’ll bet you didn’t even notice that monument to Archbishop Scrope.’
‘Scrope? Who’s he?’ Banks asked. While sympathizing with Brian, he didn’t feel justified in cheating Tracy out of her excitement. She was at an age now when one of her great thrills was to educate her parents, whom she thought dreadfully ignorant of the past that surrounded them. Very soon, Banks mused sadly, all that would be forgotten, at least for a few years, and life would be all clothes, pop music, make-up, hairstyles and boys.
‘He was a rebel,’ Tracy informed him. ‘Henry the Fourth had him executed in 1405.’
‘Oh shut up with all them dates, clever clogs,’ Brian burst out. ‘You think you know it all.’ And before Tracy could respond, he turned to his father and launched into his own account.
‘We went on a boat down the river, Dad, and she felt seasick.’ He cast a look of pitying contempt at his sister. ‘And we passed this big chocolate factory. Me and some of the boys wanted to go on a tour but the teacher wouldn’t let us. She just wanted to show us history and stuff and all those silly old narrow streets.’
‘The Shambles,’ Tracy interrupted. ‘And Stonegate and Petergate. Anyway, the chocolates would only have made you sick.’
‘It didn’t need chocolates to make you sick, did it?’ Brian taunted her.
‘That’s enough, Brian!’ Sandra cut in. ‘Stop it, both of you!’
And so it went on; Brian sulked and Tracy scowled at him until they both went upstairs to watch television while Sandra cleared the table and Banks helped her with the dishes. Finally, still arguing, they were packed off to bed, and Banks suggested a nightcap.
‘I’ve got a new job,’ Sandra said, pouring the Scotch. ‘Well, not really new, just different.’
Banks asked what it was. Sandra worked as a dentist’s receptionist three mornings a week in Eastvale.
‘Mr Maxwell’s going on holiday, shutting up shop for three weeks, and Peggy Matthews – that’s Mr Smedley’s receptionist – is off at the same time, too.’
‘Not together, I hope?’
Sandra laughed. ‘No. Fine bedfellows they’d make, I’m sure. Maxwell’s going to the Greek Islands and Peggy’s off to Weymouth. Anyway, apparently Smedley asked if he could borrow me while the boss was away. Maxwell asked me and I said yes. It’s all right, isn’t it? I didn’t think we had any plans.’
‘Yes, it’s fine if you want to. I can’t really plan anything until this Steadman business is settled.’
‘Good. Smedley’s a real perfectionist, so I hear. Especially when it comes to fitting caps and crowns, matching the colours and all that. They say he’s one of the best in Yorkshire.’
‘You might get to meet the local gentry, then. Who knows?’
Sandra laughed. ‘Well, Peggy did say that Mrs Steadman goes there. She’s having some root canal work done. She’s a bit of a local celebrity now.’
‘It’s amazing, isn’t it?’ Banks said. ‘The husband gets murdered and people suddenly line up to look at the
