Revenge in the Cotswolds

by Rebecca Tope

  ‘I think he’d take the side of the birds. What’s the point of building things meant to help the planet if they kill the creatures we’re trying to be protect?’

  ‘Right,’ said Thea with relief. The whole question of wind farms made her tight with complicated feelings, that were all the more uncomfortable for being a turnaround from six or seven years previously. At that time, there had never been any question about the virtue of the modestly sized turbines. Since they had grown to insane proportions, most of her original assumptions had been overturned.

  Everything to do with environment and climate seemed to have at least two excellent and contradictory arguments to be made, and everyone held impassioned positions one way or the other. In the past few months, it had all begun to seem like too much hard work, and she was inclined to let other people work it all out, regardless of what she thought herself. She had a growing feeling that the planet was not in the slightest danger anyway. Some of its inhabitants might be, but that didn’t appear to be any different from the reality of the past umpteen billion years in any case.

  ‘Keep walking,’ Thea ordered. ‘We don’t have to go down past the church, like I did before. The road to North Cerney goes off before we get that far.’ With a firm eye on the map, she marched them around the loop that was Upper End, and sure enough a small road was signed to the next village. It was an awkward walk with the dog, though, due to the lack of a footpath, and they kept to single file for much of the way.

  North Cerney turned out to have a powerful appeal in another individualistic twist on the theme of endless variety that the region boasted. ‘We don’t have to look at the church, do we?’ asked Jessica, as they passed it.

  ‘Maybe on the way back,’ Thea threatened. ‘I expect it’s wonderful. Most of them are. But I don’t know any stories about this one.’

  ‘They’ll have stopped serving lunch if we don’t get on.’

  The Bathurst Arms was a substantial building, offering accommodation, a garden and a perfectly adequate menu. As a bonus, there was no objection to dogs in the bar. On a March Tuesday, there were only two other patrons, neither of whom Thea recognised.

  They ordered a large meal and spoke little as they waited for it. ‘That was quite a walk,’ Jessica observed after a few minutes. ‘I bet it was more than two miles.’

  ‘I don’t think so. Have you got a deadline for getting home?’ Already the inevitable bleakness of being left alone again was threatening to undermine the moment.

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘Are you working tomorrow?’

  It was as if the girl had been waiting for this precise question. ‘I am, yes. We’ve got something on, so there’s not much free time just now. I’m only off today because there are rules about maximum hours.’

  ‘Something on?’

  ‘I can’t talk about it. It’s an operation, with a big “O”. Exciting.’

  ‘You don’t look very excited.’

  ‘I can’t talk about it, Mum. I’m just a small cog in a big machine. I don’t even know exactly what the aim of it is. But it’s important. Some of us are doing stuff we’ve never done before. It’s a challenge.’

  Thea frowned. ‘I’m not at all sure I like the sound of it. Ought I to be worrying about you?’

  ‘No more than I should worry about you. I don’t think anybody’s going to burn me in my bed, for a start.’ There was a little crease of unease between her eyes, which Thea hadn’t seen before.

  ‘Are they making you do more than you feel competent to tackle? I mean – sorry, Jess – I don’t mean I think you’re not up to the job. But you’re still quite new to it all. And it’s not always the most ethical line of work, is it?’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘I don’t know. You just looked sort of … guilty, for a minute. Queasy.’

  ‘Stop it – okay? I really am forbidden to talk about it. They’d shoot me if they thought I was giving anything away.’

  ‘I do hope not,’ said Thea lightly. ‘I think that’s the army – and even there I have a feeling they abandoned firing squads a while ago now.’

  Jessica gave a tight smile and took a swig of beer.

  Thea watched her, rerunning the conversation in her head. ‘You brought it up, so you must have wanted me to know at least a little bit. Something’s bothering you, by the look of it. We could try a hypothetical approach. Something abstract.’

  Her daughter thought for a minute. ‘You mean, I tell you about a friend of mine who’s got herself into an awkward spot, and has been asking for advice?’

  ‘That sort of thing, yes.’

  ‘O-o-kay. Well, what would you say if a person told you she’d been given something to do by her superiors that she’s not sure is fair?’

  ‘Fair?’

  Jessica nodded.

  ‘Fair to who?’

  ‘People. Suspects.’

  ‘You mean dishonest, don’t you? What’s the word – entrapment? Are you … sorry, is this person being asked to pretend or tell lies in order to catch a criminal?’

  ‘Too much detail, Ma. Can we keep it general?’

  Thea’s heart was thundering with a sudden rage against the superiors who were corrupting her innocent girl, forcing her into some shady scam that would deceive suspected delinquents into incriminating themselves. It was shabby at best. But she knew, albeit dimly, that this kind of thing went on all the time. It was indeed unfair, playing dirty, and ultimately self-defeating. If the enforcers of the law couldn’t keep themselves clean, then what hope was there for society at large?

  ‘It’s disgusting,’ she snapped. ‘They should be ashamed.’

  ‘It’s the system. It’s the way things work. They say it justifies itself ten times over. Nobody gets hurt, really. I’m a means to an end.’

  ‘So you’ll do it?’

  ‘I don’t really have a choice. You’re supposed to understand that. And it is a big operation. If it pays off, a lot of bad people will be off the streets.’ She looked more sure of herself as she spoke.

  ‘I can see that,’ said Thea, aware that she ought to back off, but still wondering why the subject had been raised in the beginning. ‘It doesn’t sound as if there is much of an alternative, then. Let’s hope it all works out as planned.’

  ‘I keep hearing Daddy’s voice in my ear, going on about the right thing, and integrity and all that sort of stuff. I’ve even been dreaming about him.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ Carl’s unwavering morality had been a key element in his make-up. It had made life easy for his wife and daughter, always knowing how he would react and what line he would take in virtually any situation. ‘I think he knew this sort of thing would arise, from the first moment you said you were going into the police.’

  ‘Uncle James had a chat with me, two or three years ago now, warning me about the grey areas. I don’t have much cause to complain, now it’s happening. I expect it gets easier.’

  ‘Your father never really had to make any nasty choices,’ Thea realised. ‘He chose a line of work where it was all perfectly plain.’

  ‘It’s not like that now, though, is it? The whole Green business has got pretty murky in some departments. Like we were just saying about wind farms.’

  ‘Yeah.’ Thea thought of Drew Slocombe and how similar he was to Carl in many ways. It was both unsettling and reassuring to see the pattern that was forming. ‘It goes with growing up, I guess. Sooner or later you have to get your moral hands dirty, if that makes sense.’

  ‘That seems to be the general idea.’ Jessica smiled. ‘That helps, actually. People on the moral high ground can be rather awful. Not Daddy, but a lot of them. Complacent. Superior. The rest of us just have to do the best we can. Right?’

  ‘Right.’

  The food had arrived in the middle of their exchange and they were eating absently, all their attention on each other and their thoughts. ‘Not bad,’ judged Jessica, holding up a forkful of lasagne. ‘I was starving.’
/>   ‘More beer?’

  ‘Why not? I’m not driving again for hours yet. Is Hepzie all right down there?’

  The spaniel was flopped bonelessly on the floor under their table, worn out from the walk. ‘She’s fine,’ said Thea. ‘She likes a good walk.’ It was sufficiently inane to mark a break in their conversation. ‘Did I tell you about Maggs?’

  ‘Who? Oh – the girl undertaker. I must meet her sometime, she sounds unusual. What about her?’

  ‘She’s pregnant. I always thought she’d abjured children for ever, but it seems not.’

  ‘Is she married?’

  ‘Oh yes. Her husband was in the police. Den, he’s called. Very tall, with a Devon accent. He must be ten years older than her, at least. He used to help collect bodies in an emergency, but now he works at Bristol Airport and isn’t very available.’

  ‘Why did he leave the police?’

  ‘I never really found out. There was a murder, and Drew’s wife got shot, and somehow Den lost his vocation. That’s all I know. He drifted around for years before getting this job. They’ve got hardly any money, same as Drew.’ Down below the surface, she had a sudden notion that Den was one of those to whom the moral high ground was the only place to be. Like Drew. And Carl. And possibly not Jessica. She sighed.

  ‘Complicated,’ said Jessica, without any discernible interest. ‘At least Uncle Damien’s not skint.’

  ‘Not exactly flush, either. I don’t know anybody who has enough cash, these days. You can’t make proper plans without money,’ she complained. ‘You just have to take life a week at a time.’

  ‘Like most of the human race,’ Jessica observed dryly.

  ‘I’m not happy to think poor Maggs has to live like someone in the Third World. At least they’re all in the same boat in Africa and places.’

  ‘They don’t call it the Third World any more, Ma. And there are quite a few rich people in Africa these days. China’s throwing money at them in Zambia and Botswana, for a start.’

  ‘Really? I’m very out of touch, then. I had no idea.’

  Jessica waved this aside and finished off her meal before speaking again. ‘You and Drew – what’s the plan?’ she asked.

  ‘Plan? Some hope! Everything’s on hold until the kids are older. We carry on as we are for the foreseeable future.’

  Jessica shook her head. ‘Can’t see that happening. Treading water for years – what sort of a life is that? How often do you expect to see him, on that basis? What a waste!’

  At your age, Thea heard the unspoken words. She sighed. ‘Nothing like often enough. But neither of us can see any option. The children are still so young, and shell-shocked by losing their mother. He can’t do anything that unsettles them even more. He has to put them first, obviously. He wants to.’

  ‘Maggs has unsettled him, by the sound of it, getting herself pregnant. What’ll his kids think about her having a baby of her own? Presumably she’s a sort of mother substitute for them at the moment. That’ll change, won’t it?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Thea felt like wailing at all the complications and frustrations in her life. She and Drew were so right together. Jessica’s generous and open reaction to the relationship had been wonderful – almost too wonderful, given that it was such an interrupted and sporadic affair.

  ‘Kids don’t mind change as much as people think, you know. They kick up a lot of fuss at first, but then they get on with it, no harm done. And at least there are two of them. They still have each other, whatever happens.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s true. They look all right, maybe. But I think it does a lot of damage, deep down.’

  Jessica shrugged. ‘It’s the same point, isn’t it – the theme for today. Something about the discrepancy between the ideal and the reality. That’s what we’re really talking about.’

  Thea was impressed. ‘That’s very clever,’ she said.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about it quite a lot lately. Could be it’s a vital part of growing up – letting the ideals fade a bit.’

  ‘Which these eco-warrior people haven’t done. Does that mean they’re immature?’ She thought about it. ‘They’d be furious at the idea.’

  ‘They’re nowhere near as admirable as they think they are, that’s for sure. I don’t claim to know how their minds work. It’s something the police find rather frustrating, actually.’

  Thea laughed. ‘I can imagine.’

  They sat for another half an hour, after which Hepzie revived and grew restless. ‘Better go,’ said Jessica. ‘Are there any local attractions you want to show me?’

  Thea’s mind went blank. ‘Cirencester’s rather nice. Lots of ancient Roman associations. A museum I’ve never been to. Wool. A big park …’

  ‘And a church. Don’t tell me.’ Jessica rolled her eyes. ‘No thanks. Why is it always the church that people focus on?’

  ‘I never mentioned the church. I agree with you, more or less, that they’re irrelevant in a lot of ways. But they’re also very beautiful, and they do show something of how people lived a thousand years ago, if you know how to find it.’ She felt a fraud, after her lack of response to the two churches she had visited that week. ‘Or how they thought, anyway,’ she amended.

  ‘Let’s just go back to Daglingworth and have some tea. I haven’t talked to that corgi properly yet.’

  ‘And the tortoise. Did I tell you there’s a hibernating tortoise?’

  ‘Yes, you did. Sounds fascinating.’

  ‘I haven’t even looked at it myself yet. I think it needs my help before it can start coming back to life. Something weird about giving it a bath. I’ve got everything written down.’

  ‘There’s a first time for everything,’ said Jessica, her attention fading yet again.

  Thea’s car had been elected as the one to take them back, mainly because the fact of a muddy dog was less of a problem for her. The back seat had a sturdy cover designed to withstand whatever Hepzie might deposit on it. After years of ineffective nagging, Thea had eventually succeeded in persuading the animal to stay on it when wet or dirty. Which in fact she was not on this occasion, luckily for the floor of the Bathurst Arms.

  For variety they followed a different route, alongside the River Churn, before turning right. ‘This is where Sheila Whiteacre brought me,’ Thea remembered. ‘Did I tell you about her?’

  ‘One of the protesters?’ Jessica guessed.

  ‘Mother of one of them. No – two, actually. There’s a boy as well, who I haven’t seen. They live in Baunton. Fabulous house. Really nice people.’

  ‘All the houses are fabulous,’ sighed the girl. ‘Didn’t we already decide that?’

  ‘Oh, goodness. Look!’ Thea interrupted. She slowed the car, and craned her neck to look through a field gate on their left. ‘That must be Mr Handy’s Land Rover. I recognise the dog.’

  The vehicle was parked crookedly just inside the open gate, and the collie was standing behind it. There was no sign of the farmer.

  ‘So what?’ said Jessica.

  ‘So nothing, really. I just …’ She realised she felt slightly guilty towards the man who had kindly given her a lift in the rain. She had thought bad things of him, thanks to DI Higgins and his questions. ‘I rather liked him,’ she muttered.

  ‘So?’ said Jessica again. ‘Are you going to stop and talk to him or what?’

  ‘No. I’d better not. I wouldn’t know what to say.’

  Another car was coming up behind them, hooting for them to get out of the way. ‘Ma – you’ll have to move. You’re blocking the road.’

  ‘No need to hoot. Can’t he wait a minute?’ She looked into the rear-view mirror and caught a glimpse of a man’s face, bracketed by large ears. ‘That’s one of the protesters,’ she said. ‘Steve. Nobody could miss those ears. He must get caught on CCTV all the time.’

  Jessica laughed. ‘Just move,’ she insisted. ‘Unless you want to stop and talk to them.’

  Still Thea was caught in a sort of paralysis.
She did have things to say to Jack Handy, if only she could articulate them. She had questions for him as to where he stood with the police, and what, if anything, her testimony had done to help. The impatient Steve was a complication that rendered her stubborn. She pulled the car as far into the verge as she could, and turned off the engine.

  ‘Ma!’ Jessica protested, sounding far more alarmed than necessary.

  ‘Don’t worry. I won’t be a minute.’ She looked over her shoulder, wondering why Steve didn’t squeeze past her in the mud-splashed white car he was driving. He was sitting there, staring through the gateway at the Land Rover, with horror on his face.

  Chapter Eleven

  ‘Something’s wrong,’ Thea said. ‘He’s seen something.’ She got out of the car and went to the gateway. Instantly, she saw what Steve had seen and gave a cry.

  Jessica followed her, seeming to take far too long to open her door and leave the car. Together they stood for ten seconds, making sense of the scene a few yards away.

  A man was sitting on the ground, with his hand to his head. Blood was pouring through his fingers and he was moaning. His dog stood close, but not close enough to touch. The man’s other arm was extended as if to ward the animal off.

  ‘What happened to him?’ asked another voice behind Thea. ‘I saw his feet and legs, through the hedge.’ It was the big-eared, scrappy-bearded protester. ‘Uncle Jack? It’s me, Steve. What happened?’

  Uncle Jack, Thea repeated to herself, noting a slight similarity between the two that would never have struck her without help. The question being asked did seem to be the only rational one and she waited for an answer before moving.

  Jessica, however, showed no such hesitation. She knelt beside the farmer, and pulled his hand away. ‘Can you see?’ she asked him. ‘Can you tell me your name?’

  He mumbled something, and she nodded. ‘All right. I’m calling an ambulance for you. You don’t have to talk, but try not to go to sleep, okay? Stay upright if you can.’ She extracted a phone from her pocket and was soon giving an account of the situation to an emergency person. ‘Where are we?’ she asked Steve. ‘Exactly.’