Reginald Hill - Under World

Her voice trembled with love and loss, and indignation too. The only words of comfort that rose in Pascoe’s mind would be no comfort at all. Colin was a proven violent man, he wanted to say. It wouldn’t be surprising if he began to wonder whether beneath his father’s calm exterior a like darkness lay.

He forced his mind back to the job in hand. May Farr was telling the truth, yet there was still a hesitation.

He pressed on — ‘And what was Col’s reaction when you told him today?’ — and knew he had reached his goal.

‘What do you mean? Naturally he were relieved to know at least what happened that day.’

‘But was he surprised to learn about Stella and Satterthwaite?’

‘Surprised that it was happening then ,’ she said, sounding herself surprised, as if she hadn’t really considered this before. ‘But no, he didn’t sound surprised at the idea itself. As if …’

‘As if perhaps it was still going on and he knew all about it?’

Pascoe glanced at his watch. The afternoon was drawing on. It was time he got this information back to Dalziel.

‘Thank you, Mrs Farr,’ he said. ‘I wish you could have told us this a lot sooner …’

‘Sooner? Sooner than what? You’ve known about Billy seeing them two at it up in the wood for long enough …’

‘No, I assure you,’ said Pascoe, taken aback.

‘Not you. You’re an off-comer, aren’t you? But this lot who were here when it happened …’

Pascoe looked at Sergeant Swift whose long face grew even longer in surprise.

‘First I’ve heard of it,’ he said. ‘First I’ve heard anything about Satterthwaite and Mrs Mycroft. They must’ve been clever to get away with it round here!’

‘But you told someone, Mrs Farr?’

‘That’s right. I couldn’t put up with Billy being under suspicion any more. He wasn’t going to open his mouth to a soul, he was so upset by everything. But in the end I went along and saw the man in charge and told him straight he were wasting time and money keeping my Billy under suspicion.’

‘Who was this you told?’ asked Pascoe. ‘Do you recall his name?’

‘Aye, it’s him who’s writing them things in the Challenger , isn’t it? Watmough. That’s his name. Mr Watmough.’

Now more than ever it seemed imperative to contact Dalziel. He would do it from the car, though, not from this house where there were so many ears.

He said, ‘Thank you, Mrs Farr. I’ll have to leave a constable here in case Colin does come home or tries to ring you. I’m sorry.’

‘You’re doing your job, mister,’ she replied wearily. ‘Now, Arthur, I reckon it’s time you went off home and stopped supping my tea like it grew on bushes. And take them two out there with you. Go on now. I’ll be all right. I need some time to myself.’

It was probably true. But Pascoe suspected too that in the midst of her own woes, this remarkable woman was finding time for a bit of compassionate diplomacy. He’d been wondering how to get Ellie out of the house without it seeming like a plea or a command. And he guessed Ellie had been wondering how to respond without losing face in front of the fearsome Wendy. Now May, by lumping them all together, had provided an out.

‘Thank you, Mrs Farr,’ he repeated. ‘Try not to worry eh? Probably Colin will come in of his own accord when he sits down and considers how daft he’s been.’

A wintry smile touched her frost-pale lips.

‘You think so? Talk to someone who knows him, Mr Pascoe.’

He left now and stood at the front door waiting for Wendy and Ellie to make their farewells. They weren’t long. Wendy seemed to have Downey in a kind of loose armlock.

On the step she said, ‘See you, Ellie. Come and visit some time when you can get a pass. Come on, Arthur. What are you going to do? Curl up here and howl?’

Ignoring Pascoe, which he took for her highest courtesy to a policeman, she led the still reluctant Downey away.

‘Well,’ said Pascoe. ‘I suppose you heard most of that?’

‘Most,’ admitted Ellie. ‘It explained a lot.’

‘Like what?’

‘Like Col going on last night about bones and blood in the pit. He wasn’t talking about Satterthwaite at all, he was talking about the dog!’

‘Was he? Does this mean you’d like to put it in your statement now?’

She looked at him angrily, decided the grounds of her anger were unsafe, made herself relax.

He said, ‘Walk you to your car?’

‘All right. I’d best get home and pick up Rose.’

Pascoe glanced at his watch. Four-thirty. It felt later.

‘It’s been a long day,’ he said. ‘For both of us. Your blood test was negative, by the way.’

‘What? Oh, that. It seems years ago.’

‘Does it? Perhaps. Ellie, if you rush to meet trouble, you usually find it, so I’m not rushing. But shouldn’t we talk?’

‘Here? Now?’

He looked around. The terraced houses of Clay Street stretched away on both sides, the façades grey with indifference, their windows like blind eyes. But he guessed their indifference was delusive and their blindness like a professional beggar’s.

Ellie’s car, parked round the corner, was now in sight. They could sit in it and talk, but it wasn’t the place, this wasn’t the time. A wise man picked his own ground for a battle.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I’ll see you at home.’

‘Don’t tell me. You’ll probably be late.’

‘I wouldn’t be surprised,’ he said.

‘I’ll try to be awake,’ she said.

‘Just try to be at home,’ he replied before he could stop himself.

She shook her head in disbelief.

‘If you want to know the time, ask a policeman,’ she said. ‘It’s always the Middle Ages. I’ll see you when I do.’

She marched away towards the car and got in. He noticed she’d left it unlocked. Demonstrating her implicit trust in these knights of the dusty face, he thought savagely.

As she accelerated past him, he looked for some sign of softening, for at the very least that expression of humorous irony with which she had once laced her indignation.

But her face was set and cold and unrelenting and she drove by him without even looking in his direction.

He turned away sadly and went to update Dalziel.

And in the car Ellie said, ‘You can sit up now,’ and watched in the mirror to see the smiling face of Colin Farr rise into view behind her.

‘Why’d you not turn me in?’ asked Colin Farr.

‘God knows,’ said Ellie. ‘I don’t.’

She’d turned off the road as soon as they were out of sight of the village, bumping the car a few yards along a deep-rutted, bracken-fringed track before switching off the engine.

She lit a much-needed cigarette. The effort of not screaming when she first glimpsed him lying in the back, the greater effort of not looking at Peter in silent appeal as she drove by him, had left her nerves in tatters. Now she did let out a smoky gasp as suddenly he slipped with practised ease through the narrow space between the passenger seat and the roof and sat beside her, saying, ‘There. That’s cosier, isn’t it?’

Reacting against her nervousness, she demanded aggressively, ‘Did you kill Satterthwaite?’

‘Now why should I do a thing like that?’ he mocked.

‘Because he was screwing lovely little Stella,’ she snapped.

‘Oh aye? Nowt to do with me,’ he said.

‘It was something to do with you when you were still engaged!’

‘Here, your ears have been flapping, haven’t they? Aye, that did surprise me a bit.’

‘That she could prefer another man to you?’

‘That it had been going on so long. Mebbe it stopped when she got wed, then started up again when she got bored with Gav, which’d be about twenty minutes, I’d say.’