‘Perhaps, perhaps not,’ said Harry. ‘It’s never just a simple matter of who killed who and throwing away the key. There’s always more to it, more history. And none of it is ever good.’
‘Aye, you’re right there.’
Harry took another hit of the coffee. The earthy smell of it mingled with the damp, cool air of Wensleydale, and he wondered when the weather would change again, and bring back the promised summer.
‘So what now?’ Jim asked.
‘What now?’ Harry repeated. ‘Well, I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m already looking forward to the huge pile of paperwork we’re going to have to go through. And then there will be all the stuff to do with the courts, solicitors to put up with, the press. It’s going to be busy.’
‘Is it always like this?’ Jadyn asked.
‘What, murder, bad weather, and the occasional doughnut?’ Harry asked.
‘No, I mean . . .’ Jadyn spluttered.
‘I know what you mean,’ Harry said, smiling. ‘And to be honest, I hope not. In fact, I hope with the very essence of my soul that from now on everything is very boring, very dull, and that the most any of us has to deal with is a couple of angry pensioners arguing over a bag of penny chews.’
‘Wow, that’s specific,’ Jadyn said.
‘It is,’ Harry said. ‘It’s also happening right over there . . .’
The team turned to find themselves staring at exactly what Harry had described.
‘Looks like a job for uniform to me,’ Matt said.
‘But what about you?’ Jadyn said, looking at Jim. ‘You’re a PCSO!’
Jim shook his head. ‘No, that’s definitely more your area I think,’ he said.
‘Oh, yes,’ Matt agreed. ‘Those two can get quite violent as well, so you’ll need to be careful.’
Jadyn slipped his hat onto his head and started off, but by the time he’d crossed the road, whatever the argument had actually been about had been forgotten, and the two in question had shuffled off and away into the evening.
Harry raised his face to the sky. ‘It’s coming in again, isn’t it?’ he said. ‘The rain? Does the weather ever make any sense up here? At all?’
‘You get used to it,’ Jim said.
‘And you make sure you’ve got the right gear,’ added Gordy.
Harry knew exactly what the DI was getting at and looked across the marketplace to the outdoor shop on the other side. He chucked what was left of his coffee down his throat.
‘So you’re going to finally do it, then, are you?’ Jim asked.
Matt reached out and rested a concerned hand on Harry’s shoulder. ‘You sure about this, Boss? I mean, if you buy what I think you’re going to buy, then this is serious.’
‘Oh, it’s serious alright,’ Harry said, and with that, he headed off through the first drops of rain, quietly wondering if buying a pair of wellington boots was a sign that perhaps, and after so little time, the dales were starting to get under his skin. And if so, would he ever be able to get them out again.
THE END
Author’s Note
I think I saw Apaches for the first time in 1982. I was nine years old. Looking back, I’m not sure it was the film which terrified me so much as the playground grapevine! Tales of what it contained ran around us like frightened hares, the older kids doing their best to terrify the rest of us with the gory details. And you know what? It did terrify me. It was supposed to.
Apaches wasn’t filmed as entertainment but as a warning about the dangers of playing on a farm. I’ve remembered the death scenes my whole life, although one stuck with me the most: the boy drowning in slurry. Pretty nasty that one.
Watching the film again, so many decades later, it really hadn’t lost any of its edge. Yes, it’s hugely contrived, with the children dying off one by one and yet still continuing to play on the farm as their numbers dwindle, but it still works. It is a stark movie. The soundtrack is non-existent, which only adds to the bleakness of the piece. The laughter and excitement of the children grates loudly against the darkness that unfolds in front of you, not just the deaths, but the scenes of items being taken away from a school desk, a cloakroom peg, a bedroom.
It would be easy to think, much like Gordy really, that perhaps showing a film like this to children isn’t very sensible. It may scare them, after all, even scar them for life! (It’s certainly stuck with me!) Yet that was its point, to scare children, to get the message across that bad things happen, and you need to be careful.
Other films like Apache were around at the same time, such as The Finishing Line and Building Sites Bite. I remember that we were shown the latter, which was even gorier than Apaches (boy crushed by earth mover and leaves behind blood-filled shoe, anyone?). And, of course, everyone remembers what happened to the kid whose Frisbee ended up in the electricity power station, right?
Stories are powerful. They affect us all in so many different ways and if they don’t then they’re doing something wrong. They entertain, they terrify, they teach. In them we meet new friends, visit strange worlds, disappear down rabbit holes.
I love writing. I love reading. And I consider myself blessed to able to do both. More so, I count myself astonishingly lucky to be writing this little note at the end of a book that you’ve just read. Why? Because writing a book is one thing, but to be able to release it, to have others, like you, read it? Well, that’s something quite different. It’s exciting, it’s terrifying, it’s life-affirming. It’s something I’ve created and that I hope you have enjoyed.
I will never claim to be a literary master; I’m simply someone who enjoys spinning a yarn in the hope that you, the reader, will have been entertained. If you have, wonderful! And I really hope you stick with Grimm as he continues to explore his new life in beautiful Wensleydale (and perhaps even write a review!) If not, well I would still like to thank you for at least giving it a go. We can’t all like the same things, and I reckon that’s all for the better! I mean, think how dull the world would be if we did . . .
Dave
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About David J. Gatward
David had his first book published when he was 18 and has written extensively for children and young adults. He has held a number of roles in the publishing industry, including as a ghost-writer and researcher specialising in the military and extreme sports, and also worked with thriller writer and former SAS soldier, Andy McNab. He has also seen a number of ghosts. Best Served Cold is his second crime novel.
For more information:
www.davidjgatward.com
[email protected]
Also by David J. Gatward
THE DCI HARRY GRIMM SERIES
Grimm Up North
THE PADRE SERIES
Padre: Mission Creep
Padre: Raised From Death
Padre: Jaws of Hell
SHORT STORIES / NOVELLAS
Padre: Damascus Road
Best Served Cold: A DCI Harry Grimm Novel Page 24