by Nigel Seed
“In this weather I think a curry might go down really well. What do you think Ivan?”
“Maybe, but I’ve got a call to make before I decide, if that’s OK with you?”
“No worries. You can make the call while we’re speaking to Geordie’s grandfather-in-law. If that term exists.”
The rain showed no sign of easing so they drove directly to the house and parked outside the small, neat garden. The door of the house stayed closed as they climbed out of the car and dashed up the pathway. Ivan stayed in the car to make his call and promised to join them in a couple of minutes. Jim and Geordie sheltered in the porch of the house and knocked on the door. They heard the shuffling footsteps approaching and then the door swung wide. The old man stood back to let them enter and they both shook hands with James Lanton as they did so.
“Hello, Mr Lanton,” said Jim, “I hear you want to speak to us.”
“Hello, Granddad,” said Geordie.
“Cheeky bugger, I’m Sam’s granddad, but I forgive you. But only because you make her so damned happy.”
He led the way into the neat sitting room with yet another blazing fire.
“Geordie, go make the tea, you know where the kitchen is. I want to talk to the Major here.”
Geordie did as he was told and Jim sat himself down in the chair that the old man waved him into. The old man sat down opposite him and looked at him for a moment before he began.
“You know I was a messenger boy for the Auxiliary Units up around the plain during the war. Well at the end of that I was the perfect age to be called up and, after training, I was sent out to the war in Korea. That was a nasty little war, mostly forgotten about now, of course. Anyway, I got shot there. Chinese machine gunner got me in the shoulder, upper arm and through the lung. I think that boy knew his business, it was damn good shooting.”
“I’m sorry, but does this have anything to do with the Auxiliary Units?”
“Indulge an old man, Major, I’m getting to it. Everybody is in such a rush these days. Anyway, I was laying there in the mud with blood pumping out of me when one of the regimental medics got to me. He controlled the bleeding and stopped up the hole in my lung so I could breathe. He was still working on me when the next burst of machine gun fire took him. He died in an instant with a bullet through his head. Fell across me and shielded me from the mortars that started about then, though he didn’t know it. That was ‘Chalky’ White and he came from a village out on the plain. That Chinese lad did me a bit of a favor, really. I met my Elsie in the hospital they took me to. She was a nursing assistant back then. Lovely girl.”
“Where is your wife?”
“Oh, Elsie died a while back, but it won’t be too long till I see her again.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, Mr Lanton.”
“Yes, well anyway, after I got back I took my new wife on a cycling holiday for our honeymoon and to show her a bit of Wiltshire. We went out to Stonehenge and then out to the big stone ring at Avebury. On the way we went to see Chalky’s old Mum so I could tell her how her boy died and what he had done for me. She lived in a cottage in West Lavington on the way to Devizes when you are coming from Stonehenge.”
Geordie reappeared with the tea on a tray and set it down on the small table in front of the fire. “I’ve even got a plate of biscuits for Ivan.”
“Well, you go and get him and let me finish my story!”
Geordie looked at Jim, who nodded very slightly and the sergeant headed for the front door.
“Where was I?”
“West Lavington.”
“Right. But that’s not the interesting bit for you. On the way to Lavington you pass through the village of Tilshead. It was hot, so we stopped at the pub there for a drink and a bite to eat. While we were sitting at the table in front of the pub was when I saw him.”
“Saw who?”
“One of the men who used to meet me in the woods around Stonehenge. He was walking along the road in Tilshead bold as brass and damn me if he wasn’t dressed as a parson with the dog collar and everything. I asked who he was and the barman told me he really was the parson for the village. Now, what do you think about that?”
“That’s really very helpful but why didn’t you tell me about it at Sam’s wedding?”
“Probably because I had forgotten all about it. Talking to you made me start thinking about those days again and it came back to me last night when I was in bed. That cycling holiday was magic for me and Elsie, we never managed to do it again after the kids came along.”
“Well thank you for telling me your story, Mr Lanton.”
“Is it any use to you?”
“Oh yes. With just a little luck you may have saved us some days of tramping around in the pouring rain.” Jim looked up at his two men as they entered the room. “And I’m pretty sure these two will be delighted with that.”
“Delighted with what, boss?” said Ivan as he reached for his first chocolate biscuit.
“Mr Lanton here has just given us a very useful clue and by the way don’t pinch all the chocolate ones. You need to save room for a curry.”
They thanked the old man for his information and made their way back to the car. The rain was finally stopping with just a few drops falling in the wide black puddles. As they got back into the car, Ivan cleared his throat.
“Err, boss. How do you feel about me taking the car tonight and missing out on the curry?”
“No problems for me. Why, have you had a better offer?”
“Something like that. I’ll see you for breakfast.”
Chapter 44
The next morning the three met up for a seriously challenging full English breakfast in the pub they had stayed in. Even Ivan was wondering if he could do it justice.
“How was the curry? Everything Geordie promised?”
“One of the best I’ve had, it even rivals my favorite curry house in Birmingham. You would have enjoyed it.”
Geordie smiled slightly. “Boss, Helen was right you know, you really are out of practice at picking up on clues.”
“What have I missed this time?”
“I think you will find that the Sergeant Major had prettier company than us last evening. Maybe a certain lady vicar?”
Ivan said nothing and carried on working his way through a very fine Wiltshire sausage. Jim looked at his two companions and shook his head.
“Now how would you know that?”
“Boss, Ivan may well be a fan of the chocolate digestive biscuit, but even they don’t put an expression on his face like the one he was wearing yesterday at the rectory, when he looked at the Reverend Sarah.”
“Is he right, Ivan?”
“Pardon me, but that’s a bit private, if you don’t mind.”
“That’s a yes, then. We’d better finish up here and get on the road out to Tilshead. The name rings a bell but I can’t place it.”
“Remember a couple of years ago we were test flying that new drone aircraft out on the plain and they put us in those wooden huts at Westdown Camp? The village just down the hill from that camp was Tilshead. Only a small place, nestled in a bit of a shallow valley.”
“Now that you mention it, I do remember. Shouldn’t be difficult to find the church in a place that small. I wonder if they have their own cemetery?”
The team drove slowly into the small village of Tilshead about an hour later. The village was an unusual mix of modern houses, older buildings and thatched cottages, but somehow it all seemed to belong. As they drove along the high street they spotted the church and cemetery on the right, tucked back from the road. A little further on they pulled over and parked outside the Rose and Crown. Geordie checked the menu on the blackboard outside the pub.
“Looks like we have found the place for lunch, unless there is another nice lady vicar here, eh Ivan?”
“Wind your neck in son, I’ve told you that’s private.”
“Sorry mate, just pulling your tail a bit.”
“If you two have finished,
can we now go to look for something important?”
“Sorry, boss,” they chorused.
A couple of hundred yards along the street they turned in to the path that was signposted for the church and the school. As they walked along it they saw the church to the right, set among the gravestones. The small village school was at the end of the cemetery up a slight rise. They walked through the graveyard and tried the door of the church. Locked.
“OK, let’s not waste any time. Split up and take a wander around to see if anything looks out of place. I’ll go and see if I can scout out the local vicar.”
Ivan wandered down the slope while Geordie set off upwards and Jim headed for the school to try to find somebody to ask for information. He tried the doors and they too were locked. He walked out to the main road again to try the small shop they had passed on the way into the village. Ivan and Geordie continued to wander along the paths and between the headstones reading about the “dearly departed”,” beloved mother” and other traditional messages, to be found on English headstones.
Tucked into a quiet corner under the wide arms of a large tree Ivan spotted a possible anomaly. He made a point of not shouting across to Geordie, but continued walking without changing pace. He hoped that would be enough to convince the owner of the face he had seen peering over the wall that he had missed the clue. He worked his way back to the church door to meet up with Geordie.
“Nothing here as far as I can see, Ivan.”
“No, I think we are wasting our time. Let’s go pick up Jim and see about that pub you fancy.”
Geordie noticed the use of Jim’s first name. Not like the big Sergeant Major to be disrespectful of an officer. Particularly one of this standard. Then the penny dropped. Somebody was listening. He played along.
“Yes, well, that story about a famous rock star being buried here always did sound a bit far-fetched. But the picture would have sold well. Worth a try eh?”
Ivan nodded and smiled. With a tiny movement of his head he pointed out where they were being observed from. Geordie didn’t look until they were walking back down the main path.
“Dark jacket, grey hair, standing behind the wall?”
“That’s him. Been there ever since we started looking at the stones. Got your camera? Get a couple of general shots of the cemetery and see if you can zoom in on him without being obvious.”
Geordie wandered a little way back up the path pulling the camera out of his pocket. He turned slowly as he took pictures around the church. The man by the tree seemed confident he was out of sight. He didn’t move when Geordie pointed the camera in his direction. The high powered zoom brought his face into clear focus as Geordie took the photo.
They met Jim as he was turning into the cemetery on his way back from the shop.
“Just heading back to the pub, Jim. Geordie here has a thirst you couldn’t buy for a quid.”
If Jim was surprised by the use of his first name he didn’t show it much. Just the one eyebrow raised slightly as he turned to walk with them towards the Rose and Crown. As they turned into the car park Ivan glanced quickly over his shoulder. The man from the graveyard was standing by the sign to the church, watching them.
“I think we have a winner, boss. If we can find a quiet table we’ll tell you why.”
They entered the pub. Jim and Ivan selected a table away from the bar and Geordie went to get them three pints of beer and a menu.
“OK, Ivan, what have you got?”
“Couple of things boss. Firstly, we had company while we were looking at the headstones. Somebody trying to keep out of sight watching us. He watched us along the road to here as well. If he was legit I’m thinking he would have spoken to me, you know how protective these villagers can be.”
He stopped as Geordie reached the table carrying the beers. He waited until the sergeant had settled himself before continuing.
“Go on Ivan. The barman is well away from us” said Jim, looking over at the bar.
“You remember the young lad’s gravestone at the first cemetery we visited? Military pattern with regimental badge and the usual style for a soldier. No matter where a serving soldier dies he always gets issued with the same style of headstone, right? Well, in this graveyard there is a headstone for a soldier that is not like that. It says he was killed in a training accident on the plain, so he was a serving soldier and even if he got a local headstone to start with, he would have got the proper one when things settled down.”
“Interesting. And did your watcher see you reading it?”
“I don’t think so. I didn’t stop, just wandered by trying to look bored.”
Geordie handed the digital camera to Jim.
“That’s him, boss” he said, pointing at the screen on the back of the camera. “But you can see him close up soon. I can see him through that window behind you. He is coming across the car park and he has somebody with him this time.”
Jim peered at the small screen on the back of the camera while studiously ignoring the two men who walked into the pub and stood at the bar. He did notice they were taking surreptitious looks at the three of them while pretending to look around the room.
“Ivan, have a look at the camera screen and tell me if the headstone is in any of the pictures, will you.”
Ivan took the camera and flipped through the pictures. “It’s in the lower corner of the photo you were looking at boss. Probably too small to see any detail though.”
Jim turned to Geordie. “Could you take a walk out to the car and bring the laptop in here. I’d like to see that picture a bit bigger and while you are there can you pick up those pistols you have hidden under the seat. With guns being produced at the last two hides I think we might need to be prepared, if Ivan is right.”
Geordie took a gulp of his beer before standing and making his way out to the car. Jim noticed that the men at the bar turned round, ever so casually, to watch him go and one moved a pace to the side to keep him in view as he crossed the car park. He was back in a couple of minutes with the laptop in his hand.
“There you go,” he said handing it over. “I’ve got everything you wanted.”
Jim fired up the computer and connected the camera to it. It was the work of seconds to access the camera’s memory and to call up the picture he needed. He smiled as he looked at the larger image and then zoomed in on the headstone.
He turned the computer screen towards Ivan slightly. “Is that the stone you think is out of place?”
“That’s the one. It just doesn’t seem right for a military headstone, does it?”
“No, but I think someone has been having a little joke as well. Remember when we were being briefed at Number 10, I told them how I used to go to Richard Holmes’ lectures at Sandhurst?”
“He’s the history lecturer, right’”
“He was and a brilliant one at that. He was an expert on the Peninsular War and one of the books he quoted from was The Recollections of Rifleman Harris, one of Wellington’s soldiers who went right through that war. His first name was Benjamin, if I remember correctly. Now look at the headstone again.”
Ivan moved the computer and peered at the enlarged image. His smile broadened as he read the inscription again.
“Rfn Benjamin Harris, The Rifle Brigade. Died in a training accident on this plain 18th September 1940”
“It does seem a bit strange. If he was killed in training why would he be buried here? Surely they would have taken him to the military cemetery in Larkhill Camp? Says nothing about him being from this village.”
Geordie looked at the screen as Ivan turned the computer around for him. He smiled too.
“I think we have a candidate. Ivan wins the big prize this time. So what’s our next move?”
“Well the best bet is to check the parish register again. But it seems that this village is too small these days to support its own vicar and so one is shared between a group of small villages around here. The lady in the shop has given me his phone number. So
I guess we call and see if we can get a look at the records.”
“Then what?”
“Then if the evidence stacks up we go and find a coroner to issue permission to open up the grave to exhume the body and see if there is anybody actually in there.”
Chapter 45
The vicar turned out to be a chubby young man with a face that was far too red for the exercise he had taken walking up the gentle slope of the graveyard. He seemed flustered and unsure. Jim walked forward to meet him with his hand outstretched.
“Good afternoon, vicar, good of you to come over here so promptly.”
“Hello, I’m Joseph Wesley. Wonderful name for a Church of England vicar, eh? Always happy to help and to be truthful I was glad of an excuse to leave the group I was talking to. They had got to the part where they back-bite everyone in the village who isn’t in the church support group. I don’t enjoy that part much, I must confess. Now, how can I help you?”
As he spoke he pulled a large iron key from his jacket pocket and was unlocking the heavy, wooden church door.
“We would like to have a look at your parish records for 1940. We need to get a little more information about Rifleman Harris, who rests in your graveyard.”
The vicar’s hand froze half way through turning the key. He let go of it as though it was red hot and stood straight, staring at the door in front of him. Jim looked down at the hands hanging beside the cleric. They were trembling and the man’s face had paled noticeably.
“Here, let me help you with that,” Jim said, leaning forward and turning the key “These old locks can be a bit tricky at times, can’t they?” He pushed the door open gently and waited for the vicar to move.
“I don’t think we have any records from as far back as that. They must have been lost, I think.”
Jim noted the distinct quaver in the man’s voice, that hadn’t been there before. This young man was scared, really scared.
“Well, you won’t mind if we check on that, will you?” said Jim as he placed a hand on the young man’s shoulder and gently pressed him into the church.
It was cool and calm inside the church with the usual plaques on the walls commemorating village worthies from years gone by. The altar was a simple affair, suitable for a country church and the carpet up the aisle was worn and threadbare. The vicar walked along the carpet almost in a daze, with Jim closely behind him.