Blood Ties

by Jane A. Adams

  Only after reassuring them had Naomi and Alec finally managed to escape to their room, taking a tray of tea with them.

  ‘Right,’ Alec said. ‘So where do we start?’

  ‘Earliest entries,’ Naomi said. ‘So, with the diary.’

  ‘Right you are. OK, so she must have had the diary for Christmas, but she didn’t actually start to write in it until her birthday, February the twenty-sixth. She says, “Now I am seventeen, only a year to go until I’m officially an adult so I’m going to record this last year of being a kid, just so I always know what I felt like back here and now so that when I have kids of my own I’ll remember and I won’t be so hard on them just because they’ve not grown up yet.”’

  ‘Interesting. Do you think she thought her dad was hard on her?’

  ‘I think we all do. It’s part of being seventeen.’

  ‘She goes on, “So I’m writing in my diary. My dad gave it to me for Christmas as a sort of joke. When I was a little girl I wanted a secret book and he brought me a bright pink fluffy book with a funny little lock on it and I was always losing the key. Then I lost the book. I don’t think I ever wrote much in it, I don’t really remember. But I took it to the park one day and lost it and I remember how much I cried. At Christmas he brought me this one and he tucked it into the pocket of my new dressing gown because that’s what I used to do with the pink fluffy one and he said this was the last ‘little girl’ present he would ever get me because I was almost grown up now. And then we cried because it was another Christmas without mum and we always cry when we open our presents and see where hers should have been underneath the tree.”’

  ‘Sounds to me as if they were really close,’ Naomi said.

  ‘It does, doesn’t it? She finishes there, but the next day she talks about a boy she fancies at school who has a girlfriend with spots, and then about a teacher who is “a complete bitch”, though she doesn’t say why, and she’s got the results of her mocks and is heading for high grades in her exams. Presumably her A-levels.’

  ‘Anything there that might—’

  ‘Have to do with Eddy’s death? No. She’s seventeen; most of the time she seems to be happy. On the eighth of March she says that they are breaking up for the Easter holidays in just over a week and: “We’re all going to stay at Jill’s house for the first weekend. It’ll be sooo good. Proper time together. Oliver will be there, I suppose, but he’s OK. Not what I’d have thought she’d have gone out with. He’s got a hell of a nose! But Jill says he’s really good fun. Anyway, he’s just passed his test! So we can all go out without having to bother the parents all the time.

  “I wish Jill didn’t have to move away. It’s all so wrong. She’s like my sister not just a friend. I wish I had a sister, but if I had then I suppose there’d be one more person to miss mum and I guess it’s bad enough me and dad missing her. You’d think it would kind of get less painful, but it hurts me just as much and I know he hurts such a lot too. Why do people have to die? If I could have one wish I’d bring her back. I’d never have let her go away.”’

  ‘Sad,’ Naomi said. ‘And she was dead just over a week later. That’s just tragic, isn’t it?’

  ‘Very,’ Alec agreed. ‘There are a couple of other small entries. One seems to be a homework reminder. It says, “Hand in project!!!”, and there’s a phone number with the name Steve written under it, but that’s all.’

  ‘When does Eddy start to write in it?’

  Alec flicked pages. ‘July,’ he said. ‘The year after. The first entry reads, “I took flowers to both graves today and when I came back I thought I’d just sit in Karen’s room for a while. The need to be close to her was terrible. It feels like my heart has been breaking into smaller and smaller pieces every day since she died and for some reason it was so much worse today.

  “I drove past the school last night and saw the kids all going into the Leavers Dance. All of them dressed up and laughing and so alive. The young have no comprehension of how beautiful they are or how fragile. My Karen was so beautiful and oh so fragile in the end.

  “She would have taken her exams by now, soon she’d have been off to University, and tonight she’d have got herself all dressed up and I’d have driven her off to meet her friends and I’d have teased her about coming to pick her up at ten, like I always did.

  When Martha died, I thought what I felt then was agony, but I know now that what I felt only scraped the surface of suffering. When the doctors told us what we were facing, we knew we could do it together. I don’t think I believed it, not until the day we buried her, but I’d had two years of, not getting used to the idea, but of losing, slowly and gradually, not just such sudden loss. In the end, I was glad Martha had gone. Poor love she was in pain and couldn’t stand more of it. Karen and I, we clung to one another and we were neither of us afraid to cry or to talk about what happened to her mum. We shared that and I’m so glad we did.

  “But Karen. One minute there and the next minute gone and no rhyme and reason to it. We don’t even know what happened, just that Oliver crashed and all four of them died and my Karen didn’t get to go to the Leavers Dance and that’s just the first of all the things I didn’t get to see her do.

  “So I came in here and sat on her bed for the first time since the funeral and I saw the diary sticking out of the pocket of her dressing gown and I read what she had written there. My Karen, celebrating her last year of childhood. I’ll raise a glass to you tonight, my sweet girl. To you and your mother, and as you can’t write in your book now, I’ll try and do it for you, try and celebrate it for you, but I won’t come into your room again. I’ll close the door and let the dust fall and that will be that. Take care, my darling, and I hope you are with your mother now.”’

  Naomi blinked back tears. ‘Poor Eddy,’ she said softly. She bit her lip, recalling the losses she had experienced in her own life. Then took a deep breath. ‘What else does he write? And why would he give something so personal to Kevin?’

  She could hear Alec turning the pages. ‘He writes nothing else for a couple of weeks and then there are a few rather restrained pieces. It’s as though he’s trying to find his way through his own feelings. He talks about seeing friends and going shopping and then in August, on the anniversary of Martha’s death, he tells Karen that he can’t find the words to do this any more. Everything stops until about eighteen months ago.’

  ‘And what happens then?’

  ‘He finds a ring, apparently. Here, I’ll read it to you. “Gold, with a seal.” I assume he means a seal as in sealing wax and not sea creature. “It has been dinted by the plough and the shank is broken, but from the weight and size it was a man’s ring and a valuable piece. I took it to show to Matthews and he confirmed that the date is right, though, of course, he doesn’t believe it could be part of a larger hoard, the field had been ploughed so many times since 1685, but he agrees with me that the seal is a cedar tree, just as described in the Florenz document. Is it too fanciful to believe that the last wearer of this ring was Henry Kirkwood? And if this much is true what else could be?”’

  ‘Kirkwood?’

  ‘No idea. Eddy’s treasure? The daughter sent away to save the treasure from the king? But the interesting thing is that at the top of the page he writes the words “Bakers Field”. Isn’t that where Kevin found the coins – medallions or whatever they were?’

  ‘It is. So, did Kevin know about the ring? Did he make that same connection?’

  ‘Well, I’ll phone and ask him, but there seems to be more. Eddy found a couple of coins and fragments of what he thinks are bindings from books. I suppose he means those corners and locking bits you sometimes get on Bibles.’

  ‘Does he say what this Lorenz document is?’

  ‘No, but he mentions it again. A lot of this is going to need an interpreter and a linguist.’

  ‘Aren’t they the same thing?’

  ‘Not in this case. My Latin is very rusty. It never was that good, but there’s quite
a bit of it, like he copied it from somewhere. There seems to be some kind of family tree and something that I think is an entry from a will, but, like I say . . . And the interpretation is for all the map location stuff. I’m guessing Kevin can do that bit but a visit to this Dr Matthews seems in order.’

  He dropped the diary pages on to the bed and skimmed through those photocopied from the notebooks. ‘More of the same,’ he said. ‘He ran out of pages in the diary and moved on to the notebooks. Kevin was right, Eddy didn’t intend to hide anything from him, that’s why he dropped the books into Kevin’s pack, but what made him decide that now was the right time?’ Alec sighed. ‘This is so densely written it could take weeks to get through.’ He fell silent for a moment, then Naomi heard him reach for the discarded copies from the diary.

  ‘Find something?’

  ‘Not sure. He starts talking about some letters, something he received that upset him.’

  ‘What does he say?’

  ‘Well, halfway through the first notebook he says: “Another of those damned letters arrived. I wish I’d never approached that bastard. And the phone calls. I’ve changed the number but he’s threatening a visit. I hoped I’d made it plain years ago that I wanted nothing more from any of them. My fault, I suppose, but I thought if I made the approach through the solicitor then I’d be protected somehow. If I could have found out another way, then I would have done.”’

  ‘Strange,’ Naomi said. ‘But it doesn’t have to be about the finds. It could be something else. Family, maybe?’

  ‘Could be. I’ll have a talk to the solicitor.’

  ‘Who probably won’t tell you. He might tell Susan, though. What’s the earliest mention?’

  ‘Hoped you wouldn’t ask. God knows! There’s so much here.’ He flopped back on to the bed. ‘No offence, love, but this is going to take more than one pair of eyes and one person reading to you.’

  ‘Then tomorrow we co-opt volunteers. Susan and Kevin and maybe this Dr Matthews. People who can actually understand what Eddy was on about. Any more tea in that pot?’

  ‘Probably stewed. I’ll go and get more, shall I? I left my coat downstairs, anyway.’

  Naomi heard him pick up the tray and the door swing to as he left. She began to gather the pages he had left scattered on the bed, hoping she wasn’t getting them too much out of order. Alec’s comment about more than one pair of eyes hadn’t hurt, but it had put her slightly out of sorts and made her feel impatient with herself. There were so many things she could still do. Several she could now do that she hadn’t been able to before the accident. She was still very patchy when it came to using Braille, but voice activated software enabled her to write and email. She’d taken up swimming again, something she’d left behind long before she even left school. Could apply her own make-up. Could even read ordinary texts, with some really snazzy equipment that scanned pages and read them out loud.

  But sometimes the frustration over what she couldn’t do was overwhelming.

  Alec came back up a few minutes later with more tea and his coat. ‘I picked up a newspaper at the police station. I’d forgotten. It had an article about Eddy. The journalist obviously knew him well; it’s just possible he may be helpful.’

  ‘Read it,’ she said.

  ‘“Murder of a Gentle Man”,’ Alec started.

  Naomi listened as Alec read the article out loud and explained about the picture of the children helping with the survey. ‘He was well liked and well loved,’ she commented. ‘Whoever was spiteful enough to take his life, even accidentally, was utterly out of kilter with the rest.’

  SEVENTEEN

  Although it rained all night the dawn brought a glimmer of hazy sunlight and a bitter wind blowing across the levels. Alec took Napoleon out first thing and returned shivering despite his thick coat. Even the dog seemed put out and underwhelmed. He looked reproachfully at Alec, who shrugged. ‘I know, I know. The North Sea coast is meant to be the chilly one. Frankly, this one has my vote. Bloody bitter, it is.’

  ‘We get very cold winters down here,’ Bethan confirmed. ‘The wind seems to pick up all the wet from the land and freeze it through. Sometimes it feels like you’re breathing ice.’

  ‘At least the sun is shining and the rain has stopped. I did wonder if we should buy a boat.’

  ‘And herd the animals in two by two? Give it a week or so and it’ll all be falling as snow.’

  Alec wasn’t sure if she thought that was a good thing or not.

  Breakfast over, Alec sat down upstairs and began the phone calls. Twenty minutes later he had arranged to meet Susan and Kevin at The Lamb that lunchtime and had appointments with Dr Matthews and the journalist Adam Hart arranged for that morning. He thanked the curiosity of both men for their promptness in agreeing to the meetings.

  ‘So,’ Naomi said. ‘Where first?’

  ‘To see Adam Hart. He works for a magazine called History Time, but also does the occasional feature for the Bridgewater Gazette and a couple of other local rags, or so the editor says.’

  ‘I bet he didn’t call them rags.’

  ‘No, maybe not. Anyway, it seems Eddy’s name opens doors. Mr Hart is expecting us in half an hour. We’re meeting him at Westonzoyland Church.’

  ‘Um, why?’

  ‘Because that’s where he said he’d be.’

  Adam Hart was a tall man. He walked towards them with his hand extended, ready to shake. His loosely jointed knees swung far too far as he strode over, his balding head thrust slightly forward. He reminded Alec of a heron just about to spear a fish.

  His smile, though quizzical, seemed genuine, and the hazel eyes were alive with interest.

  Alec introduced himself and Naomi. Adam Hart’s handshake was firm. He had, Alec noted, massive hands.

  ‘I’ve borrowed keys for the church tower,’ Adam said. ‘It’s a bit of a climb. I hope you don’t mind heights?’

  ‘Not now I can’t see them,’ Naomi told him.

  ‘Really? Now, isn’t that interesting. They bothered you before?’

  It was an unusual start to a conversation, Naomi thought, but the man’s interest was so obviously genuine. ‘Hated heights,’ she said. ‘I even avoided ladders, and the high diving board was completely off limits. Now, no problem.’

  ‘Seriously? You dive? Doesn’t it bother you that there might be someone below?’ He laughed. ‘I’m just working out the logistics of that.’

  ‘I go with my sister and her kids. Actually, I’m lying, I don’t do the high board, I’m not that good, but I’ll dive off the side now. It’s embarrassing when your five-year-old nephew can do something you can’t so . . .’

  Adam Hart laughed again. ‘I can imagine. We’re on to grandchildren now. Boy, do they give us the run around. Now, the stairs are narrow and steep. Best leave your dog down here, if that’s all right?’

  ‘He’ll be fine,’ Naomi reassured him. ‘So will I. Who is the church dedicated to?’

  ‘Oh, Mary, in her virgin state. It has the most beautiful tower, and they’ve been doing restoration on the windows. Made a lovely job of it. Not over restored, if you get my meaning. Right, through here. Did you know they kept four hundred prisoners here after the battle? Executed twenty-two of them the following day on the grass outside. No trial, no questions, just a length of rope. Then the King charged the villagers the cost of it all later on. Eddy was fascinated by it, was trying to put some flesh on the bones in that book of his.’ They were inside the tower now, climbing the stairs, and his voice echoed loudly.

  ‘Book?’ Alec asked from up ahead, his voice somewhat muffled and breathless.

  ‘Oh, didn’t you know? He was writing a book. He’d already published a number of articles. Quite the scholar was Eddy Thame.’

  Unlike Alec, Adam had plenty of breath for both walking and bellowing, Naomi thought. She concentrated on the worn and slippery stairs and on grasping the rope that served as a handrail.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Adam boomed. ‘I’ll catch yo
u if you fall. I’m too bony for a soft landing though, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Right, so I’ll try not to land on you.’ How high was this flipping tower? The sound of a door opening and a cold draft on her face told her that Alec must have found the top.

  ‘Wow, what a view. I can see for miles. Is that Bridgewater over there?’

  ‘It is indeed. Take care now, Naomi. If you reach out your hand you’ll feel the parapet. That’s it. Not a lot of room, I’m afraid.’

  Naomi touched the rough stone. She could feel the lichens clinging to the surface and the pitting from centuries of long winters. ‘What can you see?’ The wind was stronger up here; she had to shout for Alec to hear her across even the tiny space atop the tower. Perhaps this was why Adam was so loud.

  Adam touched her shoulder. ‘Across to your left you can see Bridgewater. We’re high enough you can glimpse the sea on a clear day, which today is not. Now, down there was an airfield. In World War Two, it was home to the 101 Airborne. They ferried spies across to France, or so I’m told. We’re on a series of islands here, really. Or would have been before the land was drained. When Monmouth and his ragged little army came here, there were already drains, or rhynes, keeping the villages and the farmland above the water. That, of course, proved to be his undoing.’

  ‘Are those the drainage ditches?’ Alec asked. ‘I can’t make out if that’s water or road.’

  ‘Which? Oh, that’s the King’s Sedgemoor Drain. Not here in Monmouth’s time, of course. No, you can glimpse the line of the old drainage ditches. See that border of sedge over there? Many of the old dykes are dry almost year round now, but when the battle occurred they were a major obstacle.’