Abigail thought that was a fair point.
‘Shouldn’t we call the police?’ Chris suggested and Abigail noticed then that she looked like she’d been crying, recently, too, considering how red her eyes were. And the way she was holding her top seemed a bit off as well, like she was afraid if she let go it would just fall undone.
‘Good God, no.’ Anna sighed, shaking her head. ‘He’ll be back soon enough, I’m sure. We don’t want to go bothering them. And just think what would happen if the press got hold of it! Can you imagine?’
Abigail watched as Anna fumbled with a cigarette and lit it. She had no idea how the woman could smoke so early in the morning.
‘Something woke me up, though,’ Abigail said.
‘Oh, sorry about that,’ Eric said. ‘The wind caught my door.’
‘No, something else,’ Abigail said. ‘Earlier.’
‘What was it?’ Mark asked.
Abigail thought back to the darkness, the cold, but had no answer, and shrugged. A dream, probably, she thought. Hers were often rather vivid, filled with voices and visions. But still, she wasn’t sure.
‘It was probably just the wind,’ Chris said through a weak smile.
‘Well, I think the best thing we can do is just head off to bed,’ Eric said. ‘Let Charlie have his hissy fit, and we’ll see him in a few hours, in a bedraggled state, I’m sure.’
Abigail didn’t bother trying to stifle a yawn which seemed to heave itself out of her entire being and stumbled back into her room with a few mumbled goodnights.
Some while later, having tossed and turned for a good half an hour, if not more, Abbie noticed another sound disturb the quiet of the night. She listened for a moment, realised it was a car, and crawled out of her bed and over to the window to see just who it was. Pulling back the curtains, she stared out onto the gravel drive. And there at the wheel, she saw the silhouette of Charlie, hat pulled onto his head. Then the wheels spun in the dirt, and he was gone.
Chapter Eight
‘Right then,’ Matt said, sucking in a deep, purposeful breath of air. ‘Are you ready for a little bit of adventure?’
No, I’m bloody well not, Harry thought, keeping his less than accommodating thoughts to himself.
It was just gone eight in the morning and Harry and the Detective Sergeant were in Swaledale, standing together at the bottom of a small cliff. The drive over together in Harry’s vehicle had been one filled with much chuntering on by Matt, about how great caving was, mostly, and the tremendous views beyond, as they’d travelled over the tops, across the swathes of windswept moorland, and on down into Wensleydale’s sister valley.
To the side of Matt’s feet was a triangular-shaped hole leading into the inky darkness, which Harry didn’t like the look of at all. The darkness it contained seemed almost too dark, Harry thought, as though it was consciously hiding something from him. Purest evil, he guessed, because what else would be down a hole, deep underground, other than something only the devil himself would be proud of?
Some way beneath them, a waterfall sent tails of white to splash down into a small ravine below. The hole didn’t look big enough for a child, Harry thought, never mind two fully grown, and not inconsiderably sized men.
They were both dressed in scruffy boiler suits, which for whatever reason were a sort of faded red colour, their feet in Wellington boots, and on their heads battered and scratched helmets with a lamp clipped to the front, the battery at the back. Matt was also carrying an old metal ammunition box, which apparently contained some snacks, a hot drink, and his phone. But not a first aid kit, Harry had noticed a little worryingly. The little stroll to the cave from Harry’s vehicle took them across green fields, the views of Swaledale rolled out before them so achingly beautiful that Harry would have quite happily just stood there staring at it all for a while.
‘And that’s where we’re going, is it?’ Harry asked, nodding at the dark hole. ‘Down there? Into that?’
‘That’s it, right enough,’ Matt said. ‘Crackpot Cave! A right little cracker it is, too. Perfect for a beginner like you. It’s why outdoor centres like Marrick Priory, and Low Mill over in Askrigg, use it. Proper adventure for kids it is.’
‘I’m not a kid,’ Harry said. ‘And you’re sure we’ll fit? I mean, that’s a small hole, isn’t it? And we’re, well, we’re us, aren’t we?’
‘You saying I’m fat?’
‘No, that’s not what I meant,’ Harry said, shaking his head.
‘I think you implied it,’ Matt said, then he rubbed his stomach affectionately and whispered, ‘Don’t you listen to him, you hear? He’s just jealous and scared, that’s all. Jealous and scared.’
Harry shook his head.
‘Look, there’s nowt to worry about, Boss,’ Matt said. ‘Trust me, you’ll be fine. Now, best we test our lamps, okay?’
Harry watched as Matt reached up to flick his on.
‘It’s working,’ Harry said, as the light nearly blinded him.
‘Good, now yours,’ Matt instructed. ‘We used to use old miner’s lamps,’ he explained. ‘Awkward things they were, with a hefty battery hanging off your belt. God bless modern technology, right?’
Harry didn’t see why God would bother blessing something that had anything to do with the inconceivably insane notion of crawling around in holes underground. But he’d promised he would help Matt with what he’d planned so that’s what he was going to do. Even if it was quite clearly reserved for people more than a few sandwiches short of a picnic.
‘You ready, then?’
‘Of course I’m not bloody ready!’ Harry grumbled. ‘But let’s just get on with it.’
Matt turned, checked his lamp once again, then sat on the ground and shuffled himself into the triangular hole.
‘Just follow me,’ he said. ‘There’s nowt to it. You’ll love it! It’s a hell of a lot of fun, I promise!’
As Matt disappeared into the darkness, Harry steeled himself for what was to come, wondering what could be so pleasant about leaving the wonder and splendour of the dales above, to scurry around in its less than inviting intestines. He sat down on the cold stone and stuffed his feet into the tiny opening. Just ahead he could see the light from Matt’s lamp, so without thinking too much about what he was doing, and all the reasons as to why he shouldn’t be, he shuffled forwards.
Underground, Harry found himself facing a grinning Matt and a dark, somewhat foreboding tunnel, which was only just high enough for them to crawl along. The floor of it was scalloped and strewn with loose rocks, puddles, and mud. Harry tried not to think about where the loose rocks had come from, because it was clearly the roof, which meant that bits probably fell off all the time. And that surely wasn’t good, was it?
‘See?’ Matt said, his grin wide and gleeful. ‘Easy! Now, this bit is called Knee-wrecker, because, well, it’s a bit of a bugger on the old knees. Just follow me and you’ll be fine.’
‘And this is fun, is it?’ Harry asked. ‘The fun you promised just a few minutes ago?’
‘Of course!’ Matt replied. ‘Just ahead there’s a junction. Don’t go right, as that’s a dead end. Left is where we’ll be heading, deeper into the hill.’
Harry was given no time to respond as Matt then turned into the tunnel and headed off. He also didn’t like the phrase ‘deeper into the hill’ because that seemed like the very thing no normal, sane human should ever say, never mind do.
Making his way after Matt, Harry spent the whole painful, uncomfortable, aptly named crawl, swearing under his breath, then not so much under it as over it and through it, turning the air blue enough to impress a working men’s club in the 70s. Caving, it was quite clear to him now, was the preserve of the mentally unstable. Nothing about it was fun. Nothing about it was enjoyable. It was just dark, cold, wet, muddy, uncomfortable, and dear God, when would it just bloody well end?
‘Ah, there you are!’
Harry emerged from Knee-wrecker to find Matt waist-deep in what was cl
early the main streamway, water gushing by and hiding his legs from view.
‘No bloody way,’ Harry said.
‘Come on, you’ll be fine,’ Matt said. ‘Just jump.’
Harry shook his head.
‘You never said anything about deep water.’
He wasn’t exactly nervous about getting in, just not all that keen on getting soaked and, no doubt, properly cold to boot.
Matt splashed the surface with his hands like a child in a swimming pool.
‘What, this? Hardly what I’d call deep. And don’t get yourself worrying, there’s only a little swim just a bit further on, and we can avoid it if we stick to the left, and sort of hop across some boulders. You’ll be fine. It’s fun!’
‘You need to stop saying that,’ Harry said, staring at Matt, pretty sure that pure hatred was now coming out of his eyes.
‘Away then,’ Matt said, beckoning with a hand. ‘In you come!’
‘Bugger off,’ Harry growled. ‘I agreed to caving, yes, but not this, not swimming! You’re a bloody lunatic, Dinsdale, that’s what you are!’
‘Well, you’re here now,’ Matt said, ‘and you don’t exactly strike me as someone to go back on their word. I need you, remember, to film me, for Joan? That’s why we’re here!’
‘Yes, but the river,’ Harry said. ‘I mean, it must be bloody freezing!’
‘Then the quicker you get in, the sooner you’ll get used to it, won’t you?’
Harry knew he had to follow Matt. If he backed out now, he’d never live it down.
‘Once this is over, we’re going to be having words,’ Harry said. ‘In fact, I’m pretty sure the words I’ll need to use haven’t even been invented yet.’
‘Stop your complaining and jump,’ Matt said. ‘Honestly, it’s a lot easier that way. Trust me!’
Harry stared at the DS, briefly imagined what it would be like to lock him in the boot of a car, then send that car off a cliff, then he jumped.
Harry landed in the water with the smallest of splashes, the water not even up to the top of his boots. There was a flash of the brightest light and then the belly roar of Matt’s laughter, which bounced around the cave and then danced off into the darkness.
As Harry blinked away his partial blindness, he watched as Matt stood up, roaring with laughter, pulling himself out of the shallow stream that, moments earlier he’d been kneeling in. A camera was in his hands. Tears were streaming down his face and his laugh was so hard, so real, so heartfelt, that it became a strained thing as he was soon unable to breathe.
‘I can’t believe you fell for that! Absolutely brilliant! Wait till I tell everyone! You daft bugger!’ He waved the camera at Harry. ‘Your face was an absolute picture!’
‘You absolute . . .’ Harry began, his voice hissing though his clenched teeth.
‘Oh, come on, Boss,’ Matt said. ‘You’ve got to admit, that was properly funny! Your face when you saw me! And then, when you jumped? Classic!’
‘I don’t think I do,’ Harry muttered, but deep down, beneath all the gruffness and the growl, he sensed a laugh developing. He kept it under control. ‘So, is that it, then?’ he asked. ‘Do we get to go back now?’
It was pretty clear from the grin on Matt’s face that no, they wouldn’t be going back now, and not for a good while yet. He wiped away the tears.
‘God, that was funny,’ he said. ‘Now, look up.’
‘Not a chance,’ Harry replied. ‘You’re going to throw a rock at my head, aren’t you?’
‘I’m serious,’ Matt said. ‘Honestly, just look!’
Matt turned his own beam to the roof of the cave, so Harry did the same, and there he saw hanging from it, dozens of thin, perfectly straight crystals.
‘They’re straws,’ Matt explained. ‘Formed over hundreds of years, thousands of years in some cases with the really long ones, as water drips from the roof.’
‘Fascinating,’ Harry said, though he was actually rather impressed. ‘Now what?’
‘Well, we don’t go downstream,’ Matt explained, ‘because that chokes off and the crawls down there will just make you even more grumpy, so upstream it is, to Column Chamber. Off we go!’
Harry was given no time to complain further as Matt waded upstream, water sloshing in his boots from his prank.
As they walked, Harry was suddenly aware of a strange sensation. It wasn’t exactly enjoyment, as to admit such a thing right then just wasn’t going to happen, but more a sense of adventure. The water, he noticed, was clear as glass. The walls of the cave were covered in smooth calcite deposits, and he was acutely aware that here, where they were, was an alien place. It was as though they were crawling back in time, and the world above suddenly seemed very, very distant indeed. The dales, it seemed, had surprises at every turn, hidden secrets. He wondered how much more there was for him to discover.
‘There’s the column!’ Matt exclaimed, pointing ahead and, sure enough, stretching from the roof to the floor, was a massive calcite formation, like a pillar in a church, and as thick as one of his legs.
‘That’s actually quite impressive,’ Harry said, reaching out to it.
‘Best not to touch,’ Matt said. ‘Something like that takes thousands of years to grow, and before people came down here it would have looked bright and clean. It’s grubbier now, but it’s been cleaned up, so we’re trying to keep it that way.’
‘So,’ Harry asked, ‘is this where you proposed?’
Matt shook his head. ‘Next chamber,’ he said. ‘You’ll see why when we get there.’
Walking on again, Harry followed Matt into a place where the echoes of their movements swelled to fill the huge space they’d entered.
‘Bloody hell,’ Harry muttered.
‘Quite something, isn’t it?’ Matt said.
With the beam of his lamp, Harry explored the cavern. The floor was strewn with dumpy formations, stalagmites Matt had told him they were: ‘Stalagmites might reach the ceiling, and stalactites have to hang on tightly to the ceiling, get it?’ But above them is where the real beauty lay, for wherever he swung his light, thousands of crystal straws glinted back at him, some of them over a metre long at least.
‘You proposed here?’ Harry asked.
‘I did,’ Matt said.
‘If you don’t mind me asking, why was that?’
‘We had our first date down here,’ Matt explained. ‘I brought food and candles, bit of music. It was brilliant! We even brought sleeping bags and whatnot and stayed overnight. Lovely little adventure it was. Knew she was the one right there and then.’
Harry couldn’t help but smile.
‘Well, let’s get on with it then, shall we?’
A couple of hours later, when they emerged from the cave having done what they’d gone there to do, Harry was struck not just by the brightness of the day, but the freshness of the air. In the cave, the air almost had a metallic tang to it, rich with the smell of the wet rock and the flowing water. But now that they were outside again, he was immediately aware of just how sweet the air smelled. It was rich and danced with so many different scents that it reminded him of one of those pretentious beers hipsters are so fond of. He breathed it in deep.
‘Can’t beat it, can you?’ Matt said as they walked back to Harry’s Rav-4.
‘How do you mean?’ Harry asked.
‘The dales, Boss,’ Matt replied. ‘It’s just the best place on earth, I’m sure of it. Below ground and above, it never ceases to take my breath away.’
Above them, the shallow rolling incline of moorland stretched out. Below them, the valley of Swaledale echoed with the sound of sheep, the faint drone of the occasional car or tractor, and very little else. This could be any time in the past few hundred years, Harry thought, wondering just how little it had changed, the thin grey lines of the drystone walls like the carefully placed pencil lines of an artist sketching Heaven.
‘It’s pretty special, I’ll give it that,’ Harry said.
‘Seems to
suit you as well, if you don’t mind me saying so,’ Matt said. ‘The dales, I mean. You seem right at home here now.’
‘It’ll do for now,’ Harry replied, but as they strolled across the last bit of field before the road, he couldn’t help but wonder if for now was actually enough.
When they arrived at the vehicle and climbed in, Harry grabbed his phone from the glovebox.
‘There’s a message,’ he said, as Matt clipped in his seatbelt.
‘It’s probably Jadyn with some daft question about something procedural that he learned at college and no one cares about,’ Matt said.
Harry hit the voicemail button and listened.
‘So, what was it?’ Matt asked, as Harry, the message done, placed his phone back in the glovebox.
‘You’re right, it was Jadyn,’ he said. ‘But it wasn’t anything procedural.’
‘No?’ Matt replied. ‘So, what was it?’
‘You know that author Gordy went to see yesterday?’
‘What about him?’
‘He’s gone missing,’ Harry said, then kicked the engine into life, and sent them up and across the moors and back over the tops and on into the splendour of Wensleydale.
Chapter Nine
‘Nice to see that you dressed up for the occasion,’ said Liz Coates, as Harry and Matt walked into the room at the community centre. She was one of the two PCSOs on the team. The other, James Metcalf, was sitting on a chair with his dog, Fly, on his lap. It seemed to be very interested in trying to chew and lick his hand off at the wrist, its tail wagging so hard it could barely stay where it was sat without almost slipping off every few seconds.
‘You going to let her talk to you like that?’ Jim asked.
‘She just did,’ Harry said. ‘And she’s got a point. I mean, look at us, the worst Village People act ever.’
‘I’m not singing, though,’ Matt said. ‘No one should ever witness that.’
Shooting Season: A DCI Harry Grimm Novel Page 7