by Rob Parker
telling him to buy something from the shop downstairs for his kids.
‘Look, I want for all the world to see you, but I just can’t yet.’ ‘Why?’ She sounded lost, and hurt.
‘They tried to get me, and they were prepared to hurt you in the process. I can’t have that happen again. I just won’t. Not until I know more.’
‘But I need to see you,’ Roisin whispered, and Thor could hear a sob welling in her throat.
‘I need to see you too. I love you, Roisin. And I don’t care who knows. Nothing quite like nearly getting killed twice to bring perspective. That’s why I can’t risk you getting hurt, because I love you.’ Thor had never said anything so honest in his life.
‘I love you too,’ Roisin replied, and he could hear through the shape of her words that she was smiling.
‘So let’s get this over with, and then let’s be in love, OK?’
Thor was desperate to touch her. He ran his palm along the rough cellar wall, which crumbled whitewash flakes into the musty air.
‘Yes, lets.’ She let the sob that she’d had been holding in go, and it sounded wet and snotty. ‘Sorry,’ she said, laughing.
It sounded like sweet music to Thor. ‘I’ll be in touch later,’ he said. ‘Love you.’
‘Love you, too.’ Thor hung up.
He felt strong, fortified, ten feet tall and growing. He could do this. He could beat Clyne. He’d go to the police, as soon as he was certain. But that meant seeing his family and getting things straight from them, and for once in his life, he felt ready for it.
21
Loxley Farm was in uproar.
As soon as Thor arrived in the yard, and saw all the vehicles parked up on the flattened mud of the driveway, he could see it was crisis time for his family. He had got a lift from Pat, in his old pickup truck that made heavy weather of the heavy weather. As Thor jogged across the mud to the old farmhouse, he thought there must be a family meeting underway.
He jumped up on the old porch, almost losing his balance as his muddy shoes hit the soaked decking. The rain was coming down hard, in iron rivulets from the heavens, and the farmhouse stood tall against it, accepting the challenge. The house was three stories, and a jumble of styles and brick. It had been renovated many times but what remained resolute across each different shade and texture was broad bay windows across the ground floor and shuttered square windows across the top, smattered with the clinging remnants of last summer’s ivy.
He had expected to be surrounded by dogs—like at Rue’s house the
day before but only by many more of them—but there were none to be seen. Maybe they were scared by the ungodly weather. At the old oak door, the single remnant left untouched since the inception of the farm in 1751, he hesitated. He felt tense, foolish, and nervous.
You can choose your friends, but you can’t choose your family, he thought. He set his jaw, remembered why he was here, and pushed it open.
He was in no way prepared for what he saw when he opened the door.
The front door opened onto a small raised reception area, then two steps down straight into the kitchen. But this was no kitchen anymore—it was a muddy pond filled with people.
‘Close the door!’ came the shout, as Thor realised he’d been standing there aghast. He didn’t even know who said it.
‘No, keep it open!’ said someone else. ‘The crap wagon will be here any minute.’
He could see his father at the centre of the furore in his shirt- sleeves, soaked. He was on his knees in eighteen inches of water, with his hands submerged. He seemed to be holding something in place, and it was only when Thor noticed the inverted wooden legs pointing to the ceiling that he saw it was the old dining table Wilkes Sr. was pushing down into the water.
‘It won’t stop, but it has to,’ his father shouted.
Surrounding him were his brothers and his sister Mercy, each manning a table leg. Thor rushed forward to help, wading into the centre of the kitchen, through the bits and pieces that were floating on the surface.
‘What’s happened?’ Thor shouted.
‘The old well under the kitchen,’ said Wilkes Jr., his eldest brother. ‘It’s burst through.’
Thor remembered being told as a child that in the kitchen, under the stone flags, was an old well used by their forefathers. It had long since been sealed up with the advent of running water and plumbing in the house, but the recent rainfall had obviously caused a major imbalance in the water table.
‘What can I do?’ Thor said, standing there while they struggled to hold the table fast. They evidently couldn’t grip it in place to stem the flow, as evidenced by the swirl around their legs.
Thor had an idea. ‘Is there anything else down there? Just the table?’
‘Just the table, trying to hold the stone in place.’ said his father, muddy water splashing into his face and hair.
‘Hold on, I’ll be right back,’ Thor shouted as he waded out of the
kitchen by the rear door. Two steps up and he was in the downstairs hallway, which had water trickling along from where it was sloshing up over the kitchen steps. He hoped he remembered where everything was…
He ran to the stairs, spraying water up the wall, and as he turned to take the first step, he glanced into the old family room.
His mother, Bunny, was reading a story to her seven grandchildren, who were sitting on the old rug by the fire with all the dogs around them. They were huddled, wide-eyed, staring, firelight licking their cheeks, as Bunny read to them from a battered old book Thor recognised instantly.
This must have been what wartime was like, thought Thor.
Rue was there, on the sofa holding Andrew, worry creasing her brow, and she looked relieved when she caught sight of Thor in the doorway.
Immediately, he felt a surge of compassion for his family, and almost forgave them everything that instant. He couldn’t stop, though, and took the stairs two at a time.
Top of the middle landing, airing cupboard on the left: it was just as he remembered. He flung it open and saw towels stacked there. Bunny always said that with six kids, living on a farm, they could never have enough clean towels. Thor grabbed as many as he could carry and ran back down the stairs.
As soon as he got in the kitchen, he put the towels on his siblings’ shoulders. He got on his knees in the freezing water, and gasped.
‘Jesus… Right, now lift the table and pass me towels one at a time when I put my hand out, got it?’
They looked at each other mutely, then their father took the lead. ‘Got it,’ he said. They pulled the table up, and Thor plunged into the water.
He felt for the crack with his fingers, following the surge that pushed his hands away like magnets of the same pole. It didn’t take him long to find it but he was amazed at the powerful push of the water that was funneling through a crack about six inches wide. He came back up for air.
‘Got it,’ he said, reaching for a towel. His brother Hollis shoved a huge one into his hand.
‘A smaller one,’ said Thor.
Mercy offered a regular sized bath towel, which Thor grabbed before he submerged again. He pushed the end into the crack with effort, and jammed it until the towel was half way through. He reached out of the water, and Crewe handed him another towel.
Thor repeated the process over and over, snatching intermittent breaths, until the water pressure began to lessen. When he felt there was no more water coming through, he applied pressure to the plug of towels with his feet.
‘Let’s put the table back over it,’ he suggested, and while they did that, he used the last remaining towel to dry himself with futility. Calm slowly returned to the room, and the family stood back and regarded him. Now that the urgency of the moment had receded, the feeling of distrust returned.
‘What are you doing here?’ asked Crewe. His eyes were filled with a diluted distaste.
‘I came to speak to you all,’ Thor said. ‘But I’d like to speak with Dad first.’
> Wilkes Sr. looked up, more surprised at Thor calling him Dad than anything else.
‘He’s a traitor, Dad,’ said Mercy, her stout features set like a granite, albeit fatter, Easter Island head. ‘He’s not one of us anymore.’
Wilkes Sr. glanced at her, then leaned back against the sink. ‘Yes, but he may just have saved the farm. Well, the farmhouse at least. I’ll hear him out.’ He turned to Thor. ‘Let’s speak in private.’
‘Dad,’ Mercy said, letting her jaw hang low, revealing her teeth to be yellowed and wayward. ‘He’d see us all in the street.’
Thor just looked at her, resigned. He knew they probably all felt this way, and there was nothing he could do about it; but it stung to hear such feelings given voice.
‘Yes, Mercy, we all know what you think on this particular topic. In fact, we tend to know what you think about most topics.’ Wilkes Sr. started towards the hallway. ‘Let’s go to the office, Thornton. And you lot watch out for the crap wagon, alright?’
Wilkes Sr.’s children looked at him with surprise, and they looked to each other for guidance. Bunch of sheep, thought Thor, as he trudged up and out of the kitchen in his father’s watery wake.
The first door on the left in the hallway led to the farmhouse office. It was a shoebox clad in old wood and horse-brasses, featuring a desk, a couple of chairs, and an old scratched metal filing cabinet. The Loxleys were outdoor people and always had been, and there was little use for a grand office. The accounts were stored in the attic, so it was just the day-to-day running of things that was taken care of in here. No pictures adorned the walls, save for a birds-eye view of the farm from the air. Thor remembered the day it arrived. Some chancer knocked on the door with the photograph all framed up, with the story that he had flown over the whole area taking pictures, and was selling prints to those that wanted them. Young Thor thought there would be no remote chance of his hardline father agreeing to buy something from a hawker on the door. But he had surprised Thor then, just as he was surprising him today.
Their shoes squelched on the stone tiles, leaving patches of off- brown water. The clean-up was already set to be huge, but there was nowhere else appropriate for a quiet moment. Wilkes Sr. stepped towards the other side of the desk and stood with his back to Thor, as if he were readying himself. Still facing the wall, he growled, ‘I’m glad you are alright. After the accident yesterday, I mean.’
It was the first time any of Thor’s family had acknowledged what had happened. Not knowing what else to do, Thor simply nodded.
‘I owe Ma a new headstone. How did you find out about it?’ Thor asked, standing awkwardly by the door.
‘Martin Campbell called straight away. He’s a good bloke - said you were OK. He said he’d go to the hospital with you.’
Thor was surprised to hear that, and grateful. His boss had taken him to the hospital but hadn’t even mentioned it to Thor.
‘Not you, though?’ Thor said, trying to keep it light but aware his words were stern.
‘I didn’t think you’d like that,’ Wilkes Sr. said after a moment. ‘Your mother and I… didn’t want to upset you. And Martin promised that you were OK.’
‘It was an attempt on my life,’ Thor said.
‘You’re sure?’ Wilkes Sr. still hadn’t turned around, and a steady
drip drip had started on the edge of the desk from his arm.
‘Well, the detective who interviewed me seemed to think as much… I’m supposed to be in hospital, with a police guard, but I couldn’t stay there. Left a couple of hours ago.’
Wilkes Sr. finally turned and eyed his son with a look that Thor hadn’t seen in eons: a caring look. ‘Why the bloody hell did you do that?’ he asked.
‘Because it was the second time someone had tried it. The first happened the night before.’
That seemed to shake Wilkes Sr., who looked to the floor as if searching his memory, then finding it. ‘At church… your questions?’
‘Yes.’ Thor looked hard at his father, silently imploring him to tell the truth.
‘Thornton, you daft bastard, we’ve had our differences, but if you know anything about the Loxleys, we are fiercely loyal. We would never harm our own blood. Never.’
The old man looked deeply offended. ‘Try telling that to Mercy.’
Wilkes Sr.’s voice took on a fervour. ‘You turned your back on all of us, Thornton. All the generations of Loxleys since passed, you threw it back in all their faces. Is there any wonder your brothers and sisters, who have always done things the right way, might feel anger towards you?’
Thor knew this line well. If he didn’t steer it back, it would end up just like the argument that saw him walking out of the house for good a couple of years ago. Before he could speak, a soft clicking on the floor brought a battered old dog from behind the desk, yawning and investigating what had woken him.
It was Ruby, a dachshund-rottweiler freak of breeding, a loveable oddity. He was a male dog with a girl’s name and he liked to sleep in there, so much so, and so often, that everyone tended to forget about him. When Thor still lived on the farm they were always having to let him back out, scratching at the door in the morning, so he could join the other dogs at the embers of the previous night’s hearth.
‘What’s done is done,’ Thor said. ‘I want to know who has been trying to kill me, and I’m pretty sure I know who it is. I need to cross a few names off first.’
‘I don’t need to tell you it was no one here, do I? Don’t make me suffer the indignity of having to say it.’
‘But… the parish hall meeting yesterday. I can’t believe you weren’t there. It could change everything for everyone.’
Wilkes turned to the desk, cracked open the top drawer, and rummaged inside. ‘We didn’t need to go.’
‘Why not?’
Wilkes pulled out a folder.
‘Because we’d already been told of the plans.’
Wilkes tossed the folder to Thor, who thumbed it open quickly. It was a copy of what appeared to be the entire COMUDEV proposal.
‘They wanted to get us onside.’
‘How long have you known?’ Thor asked, gobsmacked. ‘A few days.’
‘Were you going to tell me?’
Wilkes sat on the edge of the desk and heaved a sigh. ‘You’ve made your feelings quite clear a number of times. Your affairs and ours separated the minute you turned your back on the Loxley tradition with your piece of land. And we all know which piece of land that Clyne bastard needs from us—yours.’
‘So why did he come to see you? If it’s my land, not yours, he needs?’
Wilkes grimaced. ‘He was a cocky shite. A real city slicker. He knew what we’d think about such an idea and he knew we couldn’t do anything about it. I think he wanted to come here to try to get a feel for what you might say to any kind of offer, and to really rub our noses in it.’
A few things begin to pull into focus for Thor.
‘He knew we’d had a falling-out,’ said Thor. ‘He knew our interests
might not be the same. He picked the weakest point in the family armour.’
Wilkes Sr. nodded. ‘His local knowledge is sound, you have to give him that. He needed a bit more land, and he knew you were the most likely route to it.’
Thor thought back to what Mercy had said in the kitchen. He’ll see us out in the street. It suddenly made sense.
‘But what about the Crooks?’ Thor said. ‘So much more of their land is needed for Clyne’s plan…’
‘According to Clyne, they have agreed to sell what he wants.
According to Clyne, when they do it’s going to make them rich.’
Thor felt punched in the gut. Thor’s land, it appeared, was the only thing stopping them from helping Clyne realise his dream, if the Crooks were already onside. And that brought the whole Crook family’s motives into question. Even Roisin would benefit.
Something that’ll really piss your dad off. That’s what Wendell had said about what they’d
been doing the night Thor was attacked in the field.
‘Jesus,’ muttered Thor.
‘Bloody Brexit did for us,’ said Wilkes Sr., referring to the EU referendum Great Britain had voted on earlier in the year, which saw a narrow victory for the Leave campaign jettison the country from the economic safety of the European Union. ‘We were heavily subsidised by the Common Agriculture Policy, but when we voted out, the instability rocked the entire agriculture sector. Our farms, what we produce: it’s all worth a lot less now.’
Thor, in his bubble away from the farm, hadn’t remotely considered the impact Brexit would have on the family. It made the Crooks’ acceptance of the deal a lot easier to understand.
The Crooks suddenly loomed large as another party that would be well served by Thor’s death, ready to make the Crooks a fortune. Thor felt a cold sweat breaking between his shoulder blades.
‘What did you think I was going to do?’ Thor asked.
‘We didn’t know. Honestly. We were scared that the fall-out between us was so irreparable that you would let Clyne have the land he wanted, and it would put us out of business.’
‘Out of business?’ Thor was perplexed. ‘Why would it put you out of business?’
Wilkes Sr. walked to the aerial photograph and pointed to the outlying fields, on the edge of the property. ‘When plans like these are made, nobody considers the impact on the adjacent land. The water in the kitchen, that’s groundwater. Nobody apart from those who have worked this land know that Crook’s Hollow sits on a groundwater deluge. The earth is just utterly sodden beneath is. This extra rain has flooded the very underground, and the well was the first thing to buckle under the strain.’
‘Oh my God.’
‘And all the fields Clyne wants to build on, that the council has apparently agreed to let him build on, are vital to the water table and the drainage of this area. You fill that land with concrete, pipes, and roadways, and take away all that natural drainage, you have a problem. That water, that deluge beneath us, has to go somewhere, and the only place it can go is out onto our land.’