Fell of Dark

by Reginald Hill

  ‘In the car,’ she urged, but I was adamant. I stopped dead and easily resisted her attempts to drag me along by main force.

  ‘Now. I must know now.’

  ‘For God’s sake. All right. Yes, it was the same as before. Not quite so obvious, he’s no mere kid. But obviously they’ve been got at by someone.’

  ‘Copley,’ I said viciously. ‘It’s got to be that bastard.’

  ‘Will you come now?’

  I let myself be dragged a few paces, then stopped again.

  ‘No,’ I said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘No,’ I repeated. ‘I’m not coming. Look, at the moment it’s the car they must be after, if they are after anything at all, and we still don’t know that for sure.’

  ‘Oh no,’ she said, ‘perhaps a dozen policemen all live together in that little house.’

  ‘All right. So it’s probably us. Or rather you. Or rather the car. They’re bound to stop it pretty soon, so what’s the point of me being in it?’

  ‘OK then. Where do we go and how? On foot?’

  ‘No. Not “we”. Me. You go and get the car. If they find that empty, they’ll start a full-scale search round here. You take off in the car and give them a run for their money. When they stop you, be indignant. You’ve been by yourself all day. Admit you’ve been out here. Play the plucky little wife trying to prove her husband innocent.’

  ‘And what will you be doing?’

  ‘Me? I’ll be all right.’

  ‘You’re going to talk to that youth, aren’t you?’

  I saw no point in denying it.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘What then?’

  ‘Then at least I’ll know what I’m up against. If I can only get him to admit that Copley has bullied, or bribed, or brainwashed him …’

  ‘And the other five.’

  ‘And the other five. OK, so it sounds unlikely. But it must have happened. And I’ve got to find out what they really saw. If I manage to get away, I’ll get in touch.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘I’ll telephone.’

  ‘You’d better hurry now or they’ll be waiting for you at the car.’

  ‘It’s well hidden, I tell you.’

  She hugged me close to her.

  ‘Take care of yourself, Harry. I hate leaving you like this.’

  She faded away among the trees. It was only after she disappeared completely from view that I realized I had forgotten to ask her where I would find Cooper. I cursed, but then thought that the village did not seem all that big. If he was out at all, I should be able to spot him. But first I had to make sure the police were out of the way.

  Despite the fact that it was a dark overcast night, I made my way with remarkable ease and silence back to the road. My mood of mild self-congratulation almost caused me to walk into a couple of policemen who were having a quiet cigarette before returning to report that the car was no longer there. At least this is what I surmised as I lay in the ditch where I had dropped as soon as I saw them.

  They finally set off up the road to where they had left their own car and I saw them start up and head back into the village. I lay where I was a little longer, which was just as well, for suddenly with a roar of engines and a glare of headlights, two cars came racing from the village and speeded past me with lights flashing and bells ringing.

  I smiled to myself. Someone had spotted Jan. The chase was on.

  I studied the village closely from a vantage point among some trees which lined the road right up to the first house. It was bigger than I had thought, and the recent police activity was mirrored in a greater activity in the streets than I felt was normal. Not that I dared risk showing myself, of course. The place was not so large that every one of its inhabitants would not know everyone else by sight, if not by name. So I just stood behind my tree and watched. Soon the street was almost empty except for the occasional figure moving purposefully along towards the small pub which fitted in so well with the houses on either side, that only a small printed legend over the door informed the noninitiate that here was an inn. I was just about to take the risk of penetrating further into the village when a door opened in a house which was almost at the extreme point of my vision, and out into the street stepped a youth whom I recognized even at that distance as the blond boy I had seen in the Derwent Hotel. Cooper.

  He moved quickly over the few yards which separated his front door from the pub and went in. I looked at my watch. It was still over an hour to closing time. I did not dare go in after him, but neither did I fancy hanging about here for much longer. I debated working on the assumption that he was going to be inside till closing time and finding myself a more secure retreat for an hour. But fortunately I was still weighing the pros and cons of this ten minutes later when the pub door opened and Cooper came out again accompanied by another youth.

  They set off up the street away from me. When they were almost round the bend out of sight, I threw caution to the winds, pulled my hat down over my brow, and set off after them.

  They did not go far, but soon turned off up a steep cobbled path which I could see, even before I reached it, led up towards the church.

  But the church itself was obviously not their goal, I realized as I rounded the corner. Alongside it, separated from it only by a narrow strip of graveyard and an ancient wall, was what I took to be the village hall. It was a squat, plain, functional looking building in contrast with the rather pretty sandstone-built church. The small-paned windows were lit up and the two boys were just entering as I turned the corner.

  I myself went quietly through the church gate into the graveyard and strode across the rounded graves with scant regard for either religion or superstition, till I reached the old wall. Some headstones obviously of great antiquity had been moved up against it, probably to make way for others. Even in death the jostling of the generations does not end. I used one as a step and first removing my hat, out of caution, not respect, I raised my head slowly over the top of the wall.

  I could see quite clearly through the uncurtained windows into the hall. Some kind of meeting was taking place of what I assumed was the Wyrton Boys’ Club. They were being addressed by a rather brutal-looking cleric. There were about a dozen or perhaps fifteen boys there, of all ages from about thirteen on. Cooper and his friend, obviously the oldest, sat at the back looking rather superior. I suppose they were at the age where the power of being the oldest in such an organization had to be balanced carefully against the possible indignity of being classed with the young. Still, I thought, at least Sam Cooper had taken a party from the club on holiday and, unless I was mistaken, his companion had been in the group also.

  The vicar came to an end, there was a bit of discussion, then he looked at his watch, clapped his hands together once and obviously declared the meeting closed. Chairs and tables were rearranged in some kind of order while the vicar made his way to the back and had a chat with the late-comers. Whether he reprimanded them or not was impossible to tell, but he certainly left them amicably enough, clapping Cooper on the shoulder and saying, I felt certain, that he knew he could rely on Sam to see that things were left tidy. He then left. Cooper and his friend grinned at each other as the door closed behind him. But they justified his confidence for the place was ship-shape in no time and the boys began drifting away. I did not see any commands or requests given, but after a few minutes the drifting stopped and only the two older youths and four others remained. I could have made no positive identification apart from Cooper himself, but I knew for certain in my mind that these were the six on the mountain.

  They stood around uncertainly except for Cooper, who sat nonchalantly astride a chair, and his lieutenant, who stood behind him. Cooper appeared to be asking one of the boys some questions. Alan Hayhurst? I wondered. Then, apparently satisfied, he grinned at them, said something which made his crony laugh heartily but only brought uneasy smiles to the faces of the others, then dismissed them with a wave.

  Soon there
were only the two of them there. I prayed that the other lad might go also, leaving Cooper on his own, but this was obviously unlikely to happen. And when they both began moving to the door, I knew I had to act. I doubted whether I’d get a better opportunity than this, and though I did not like having to face two of them, particularly if they decided to be heroic and ‘catch the murderer’, I thought there might be some profit in it if, as I felt certain, Cooper’s companion was also a witness against me.

  I scrambled over the wall and quickly made my way round to the door. It opened as I arrived and Cooper stood there. He was looking back over his shoulder, saying something, and he started violently when he turned and saw me before him.

  I stepped forward into the doorway.

  ‘Let’s go back inside and talk,’ I said, and kicked the door shut behind me.

  ‘Light!’ I commanded. The second youth reached out and turned the lights on again. We stood and faced each other.

  It says much for the effect of my moustache and Ferguson’s hat that Cooper had to stare at me for a full minute before even the suspicion of who I was began to cloud his eyes.

  ‘Yes, Sam,’ I said. ‘I’m Bentink. Harry Bentink. You recognized me easier a quarter of a mile away through binoculars than you did now. Long-sighted, are we?’

  He looked a little pale, but his voice was very steady when he spoke.

  ‘What do you want, Mr Bentink?’ he asked respectfully.

  I looked at him thoughtfully. I still hadn’t decided on the best approach. But bullying was out, I thought, studying his quiet demeanour.

  ‘Let’s sit down, shall we?’ I said finally, and planted myself on a chair. After a second, he followed suit, not sitting astride now, but very upright and formally, almost on the edge.

  ‘And your friend?’ I asked.

  ‘Mervyn. Sit down, Merv.’

  Mervyn was very obviously nervous and sat down a few yards away from Cooper and myself, who sat about a yard apart, facing each other.

  ‘Sam,’ I said. ‘Let’s get one thing straight. I didn’t kill those girls. So I haven’t come here to shut up witnesses, get revenge, or anything like that. You understand me?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ he said.

  ‘Do you believe me?’

  ‘Well, I don’t know,’ he said uncertainly.

  I interrupted. ‘Of course, you can’t say. I’m sorry. It was a silly question. But you realize, of course, that the evidence of you and your friends is very strong evidence against me?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘So you must be quite sure that what you say is true, Sam. Not what you might have seen, not what someone has told you you might have seen, but what you did see.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did you look through the binoculars, Sam?’

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘And you, Mervyn.’

  Mervyn was becoming more and more nervous and was possibly contemplating making a dash for it and getting help. I doubt if I could have stopped him.

  ‘Answer Mr Bentink, Merv.’

  He looked at Cooper, then nodded and said very quickly, ‘Yes, I looked through the binoculars third and I saw you and …’

  ‘Never mind what you saw for the moment. What time was it that you looked through the binoculars? Do you know?’

  Cooper looked at me appraisingly but Mervyn burst out without hesitation, ‘It was just two o’clock, I know because I looked at my watch.’

  ‘And you, Sam? What do you say?’

  ‘Why do you ask, Mr Bentink?’

  I decided to put my cards on the table. He seemed an intelligent youth. He also seemed almost to co-operate, which I found rather strange. But I was in no position to refuse any straw sent me to clutch at.

  ‘Look, Sam, my friend, Mr Thorne, and I did meet those girls on the mountain, we don’t deny it. But when we met them, it was definitely before one o’clock. So if you saw them alive at two with a couple of men, then it must have been someone else. This is what I want to find out. Who was with them? I know it wasn’t us. Now, if you say it was us, you’re mistaken, or you’ve had the idea planted in your heads.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Has someone got at you? Did someone suggest that it must have been us, because they’d got so much other evidence against us? Is this what happened? Were the words put into your mouth? Was it Copley?’

  I had not meant to go this far, but I was more wrought up than I had realized. But Sam’s reply came like a douche of cold water.

  ‘Who’s Copley, Mr Bentink?’

  ‘Inspector Copley of the police. One of the officers in charge,’ I said dully.

  ‘I don’t think we met him. Did we, Merv?’

  Mervyn shook his head in an affirmative negative.

  ‘Think again, Sam,’ I urged. ‘What did these men you saw look like? There must have been something distinctive about them.’

  ‘Oh there was, Mr Bentink. They looked just like you and Mr Thorne.’

  I sat back in resignation. Sam leaned forward and said in a solicitous tone, ‘What time did you say you met the girls, Mr Bentink?’

  ‘About one o’clock.’

  ‘About one. We might have made a mistake about the time, mightn’t we, Mervyn? It might have been about one, not two after all.’

  I was so sunk in disappointment that only dimly did this remark penetrate my mind, but as it began to sink in and as I slowly realized that this willingness to change the time was not just a contradiction of what one boy had said, but a contradiction of what at least three boys (all looking at their watches) had said. Indeed, a contradiction of what the whole six, including Cooper, had said.

  I think it was then that the monstrous suspicion turned over once in my mind and was still.

  But I had felt it turn. I got up and took a couple of steps towards the door, then stopped and faced them again.

  Cooper stood up also.

  ‘I’m very sorry we couldn’t help you, Mr Bentink.’

  He was too damned respectful to a man whom he was going to help condemn.

  ‘You’re quite certain, are you, Sam,’ I said pleadingly, ‘that it was Mr Thorne and myself you saw on Great End with the girls?’

  ‘I’m sorry. Yes, it was. We must have been wrong about the time.’

  ‘You must have been on your way up Scafell Pike then to look across at Great End.’ Casually.

  He looked thoughtful for a moment, then nodded.

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  My monstrous suspicion was now heaving its back and stretching its legs. Soon it would be wanting to move out into the daylight.

  ‘Tell me, Mervyn,’ I said suddenly. ‘Which of us had his jacket on, Mr Thorne or myself?’

  Mervyn looked the picture of utter confusion, but opened his mouth to answer, only to be interrupted by Sam’s sharp, ‘Neither!’

  ‘That’s right,’ I said. ‘I forgot. You saw us earlier near the tarn, didn’t you?’

  Sam moved towards me.

  ‘What are you getting at, Mr Bentink?’

  I thought I might as well go all the way as I had nothing to lose. I did not know how wrong I was.

  I smiled knowingly.

  ‘I think you know what I’m getting at, Sam. You had a visitor today, didn’t you? A woman.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You didn’t tell her much, did you? You’re a close one, Sam. But young Hayhurst isn’t so clever. She talked to him as well.’

  ‘Who was she?’ He had a look of mild interest on his face. We might have been friends chatting at a street corner.

  ‘She was my wife, Sam.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And what young Hayhurst told her has made us very suspicious.’

  ‘Of what?’

  I laughed, thinking what a ham actor I sounded to myself.

  ‘You don’t want me to say it, Sam. You know what I mean, Mervyn.’

  I wasn’t sure I knew what I meant myself. Or perhaps whether I meant what I m
eant. But Mervyn’s face, white and loose, made me go on.

  ‘I just came here to get confirmation. You made a mistake, Sam. I was never on Great End that day. Never.’

  If I thought this was a trump card, I was mistaken. Cooper just looked at me thoughtfully for a moment, then shook his head sadly.

  ‘I don’t know the names of all these mountains, Mr Bentink. I hardly know what mountain I was on myself. If you say you were on Great End, why, I believe you. If you say you were on another fell, then I believe that. I don’t see what you’re making so much fuss about.’

  I knew when I was beaten, but I kept a bright look on my face. I was sure my father had said something about situations like this but I couldn’t remember what.

  ‘I’m off then,’ I said cheerily. ‘Don’t bother to ring the police. I’m going straight along to Superintendent Melton anyway.’

  It was a pathetic enough finale. Cooper raised one eyebrow sardonically at me. I turned and made for the door.

  I wasn’t going for the police, of course. I did not even know whether to give any credence at all to my own suspicions. I certainly could see no way of getting anyone else to take notice of them. In fact, as my hand was on the door knob, I was already contemplating possible routes to London.

  But as I pulled the door open there was a scuffle behind me, I heard Mervyn’s voice say, ‘You can’t let him go,’ and Cooper’s at the same time. ‘Wait, you fool!’ and then there were footsteps behind me.

  I turned in time to see Mervyn, face twisted with fear, bearing down on me. Behind him, his face twisted with anger, was Sam. One other thing I noticed. Mervyn clutched a chair in his hands. I flung my hands up too late to do anything but faintly deflect the blow as he brought it crashing down on my head.

  I staggered forward, dazed. It felt as if my head had been gashed open and I sensed vaguely that I had broken a couple of fingers on my left hand. The chair had split in half with the force of the blow. Mervyn retreated before my staggering advance as though I was capable of assaulting him. Sam stepped forward.

  ‘You bloody fool!’ he hissed at his companion. Then he took the remnants of the chair out of his unresisting hands, contemptuously ripped off a dangling leg, stepped forward another pace and swung it viciously at the side of my neck.