Alex Grecian - The Black Country

Gravity had worked its magic on the soil of the second grave and it was harder going. Hammersmith’s legs finally gave out-Day marveled at the fact that the sergeant had stayed on his feet as long as he had-and he sat down to rest. Day removed his jacket and dug, slow and steady, and eventually began finding bones, scattered through the dirt three or four feet down. There was a dress, well-preserved and nearly intact, and a cloud of light brown hair. Day used pieces of the carriage’s bench and leftover nails from its bed and fashioned a crude box that he used to collect the pieces of Mathilda Price, Sutton’s first wife. All the pieces he could find.

He lashed the three bodies-Virginia, Sutton, and the unnamed American-and the box of Mathilda’s bones to the homemade litter and hitched the horse to it. He put Peter on the horse, made him lay forward and hug its neck so that he wouldn’t scrape the low ceiling of the tunnel, and he led them away from that dark chamber. Hammersmith trudged behind, and they made slow progress.

After a long while, they came to the mouth of the mine.

Peter finally began to cry when they left the horse and the bodies behind and climbed up into the evening light. Day held the boy tight against him, half carried him through the high drifts.

The snow had stopped falling and the wind had stopped blowing. A sliver of pale moon showed through a seam in the colorless sky.

Day uncorked his flask and took a long draught from it. Far in the distance he heard the low whistle of the train from London.

The train was warm and largely devoid of passengers, and so Inspector Day had commandeered it. The tracks didn’t appear to have been affected by the tremors of the previous night, but the engineer was taking his time examining them and the train sat quiet and ready. Dr Kingsley announced his preference for a sleeping car for the children and for Sergeant Hammersmith, but there wasn’t one, so he made do, temporarily curling Peter and Anna up across from each other on the long seats of one compartment, where they fell instantly asleep. Extra cushions were brought and another compartment was made up like a sultan’s seraglio, pads and pillows covering the floor and the seats. Hammersmith was swallowed up by the space, but once he settled in, he looked almost comically comfortable, and Day realized he had never seen Hammersmith at ease.

Day ushered everyone out of the sergeant’s opulent train compartment, enduring Dr Kingsley’s scowl of disapproval and his admonishment: “He needs rest.” Day cleared off a small portion of the edge of one seat and perched there. He uncorked his flask and swirled the amber liquid in the bottom of it, frowning. He took a sip. Hammersmith blinked up at him from his well-lined nest.

“The doctor’s given me something,” Hammersmith said. “I’m having trouble staying awake.”

“Drugged, yet again,” Day said.

“I do seem to have a knack for it.”

“You’ve earned some rest, Nevil. You’re lucky to be alive.”

“I am?”

“Well, that owl did land on your chair.” Day smiled and winked.

“Nobody died. At least, nobody who was in that room when the owl flew in. That disproves the superstition, doesn’t it?”

“Bennett Rose died. He was there. And it’s true you were sitting on that chair, but it belonged to him. The owl actually landed on Rose’s chair.”

“I say we should call that a coincidence. Anyway, there’s still work to do. The bodies we left in the tunnel. That poor horse.”

“They’ve been tended to.”

“When?”

“You weren’t entirely conscious, I’m afraid. The village men pulled together. Watching them bring up that horse was something to see.”

“Was Constable Grimes there? I haven’t seen him all day.”

“Funny,” Day said. “I thought he was with you. I suppose he’ll turn up.”

“What will we do with the children?”

“I’ve spoken with Jessica Perkins. She’s going to assume responsibility for Peter and Anna when they finally wake up. We’ll find a way to make it official. By the way, Jessica asked me to tell you good-bye. She seems rather smitten with you.”

“She is? I hadn’t noticed.”

Day shook his head. “You’re blind, Nevil.”

“But shouldn’t we arrest them? The children, I mean.”

“Neither of them killed anyone.”

“But they helped hide Oliver’s body in the well, didn’t they?”

Day sighed. “Peter has had a hard time of it. Both the children have. He finally broke down and told it all. Virginia Price led Oliver to the woods and stabbed him to death after first practicing on a pig. I can’t imagine anything more horrible than that. I have no idea what seeing such a thing would do to the fragile mind of a child. Peter and Anna were protecting their only remaining sibling, and I don’t think I’d feel awfully good about myself if I consigned them to prison or to a London orphanage.”

“I suppose not,” Hammersmith said. “You know, while he was hanging there, Sutton Price told me that he was responsible.”

“Did he say. . Do you think it’s possible that Virginia saw him kill his first wife, Mathilda? That she learned her behavior from her father?”

“Place the ultimate responsibility on him, after all?”

“He did claim it,” Day said.

“If only Hester Price had cared for her stepchildren. So much might have been avoided.”

“I believe the only person she cared for was Calvin Campbell.”

“And little Oliver, of course,” Hammersmith said. “She stayed in Blackhampton, waiting for Campbell to find her baby. Do you suppose they really thought they could run away together? As a family?”

“That’s what Campbell says. True love, he says.”

“Will he stay now? The village will have to be rebuilt.”

Day shook his head. “He’s already gone. He disappeared from the depot after we brought Hester’s body out. Took the horse, so I suppose I ought to arrest him for that if we ever see him again. When poor Freddy recovers, he’ll miss that horse.” He stared out the window as if he might be able to see the row of bodies-Hester Price and her husband, and Virginia Price, and the mysterious American-laid out in the snow by the ruined outbuilding, but they were on the other side of the train.

Bennett Rose and the tiny body of Oliver Price had been destroyed in the fire at the inn. Day supposed their remains might eventually be found once the site cooled off enough that the village could rake the ashes.

Hammersmith began to softly snore. Day drank the last of the brandy in his flask, corked it, and put it away. He covered his sergeant with a blanket. He left the compartment as quietly as he could and slid the door shut along its well-oiled track. Kingsley was waiting for him in the hall. Day held a finger to his lips and led the doctor a few feet away.

“He’s sound asleep,” Day said.

“He ought to be,” Kingsley said. “I gave him a little something to help with that. The man fights against sleep.”

“He does prefer to get things done.”

“Yes. You should get this train moving, get him back to his own flat and let him rest for the next few days.”

“You make it sound as if you won’t be going with us.”

“I won’t be. They need me here. Half the village is sick, and the other half is underground. There are injuries to tend to.”

“But what of Claire?” Day was alarmed. “She’s due to give birth soon.”

Kingsley chuckled. “She’ll have that baby whether I’m there or not, but don’t worry. She’s got plenty of time yet, and I’ll be back in London by early next week. I might even get there before she returns from her sister’s.”