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Authors: Ann Granger

BOOK: A Restless Evil
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Ruth said dispiritedly, ‘Oh, yes, the police car. Old Billy saw it, too. Everyone will have seen it.' She shook herself. ‘Well, this is the Fitzroy monument. He's an ancestor of mine on my mother's side. Several other memorials are to Fitzroys. It's like visiting elderly relatives when I come in here. I feel they don't quite approve of me. Though quite why they should disapprove of me when they were such a disreputable bunch, I don't know. The reason the church is so big is that it was built with blood money.'
The visitor's eyebrows twitched. ‘What sort of blood money?'
‘Oh, well,' said Ruth. ‘That's what I call it. Hubert Fitzroy gave the money to rebuild the original small church on such a grand scale after the suspicious death of his wife, Agnes. She fell from a window but there were rumours she was dead before she was pitched over the sill. The authorities must have heard the rumours but Hubert was the king's man and loyal and a woman's life had little value then. The bishop made a bit of a fuss because Agnes had been a kinswoman of his, but he
quietened down when Hubert promised him this church. Hubert and Agnes have a tomb over there, if you're interested, with their effigies on top. Hubert's is defaced. Agnes's isn't. I've often wondered about that.'
Ruth paused. She couldn't help it. The thought of the police car up there by the woods crowded everything else from her mind and jabbering away about wicked old Hubert didn't help.
She tried another ploy. ‘There's no Upper Stovey, by the way. You'll have noticed that, perhaps. We're called “lower” because we're below Stovey Woods. At least, that's what people think. When I was very young, it was mostly native trees. Then the Forestry Commission moved in some time in the sixties and planted conifers.'
‘Did you play up there, when you were a child? It must have been tempting,' Meredith asked her.
Ruth shook her head. ‘I never liked the woods. As a schoolgirl they scared me and I never went in there unless I went with my mother to walk the dog and look for interesting bits of greenery to decorate the church. Other village children went there but I believed I might meet the Green Man.'
‘I've heard of him,' said Meredith. ‘He was a forest spirit, wasn't he?' She looked at Ruth, slightly puzzled. ‘Is there a legend about him hereabouts?'
‘Come outside,' Ruth said suddenly. ‘I want to show you something on the wall under the eaves.'
Outside the church the sun had come out and was doing its best to dry up the rain. It had its work cut out in the churchyard which was covered with long grasses and self-set bushes and generally unkempt. Poking up among the grass-stalks and between the irregular humps of the old burials were the tall
plants of honesty, with spade-shaped leaves and clusters of purple flowers. Meredith remarked she'd seen the same plant growing profusely in the vicarage garden and they agreed it must have migrated from there to colonize the churchyard. Tombstones and monuments emerged from the jungle of weeds and flowers, lichen-encrusted and lop-sided. An angel on a nearby pillar looked about to topple full-length at any moment, weighed down by its useless stone wings. A solitary magpie, which had been perched on the stone head, flapped away at their approach.
‘One for sorrow,' Ruth said aloud and looked around almost desperately for a second. Two for joy? No, just the one.
She thrust the superstition from her mind and began to apologize for the state of it all as the two of them picked their way round the building. ‘We used to pay Old Billy to tidy it but then he couldn't do it any longer because of his hip and his angina. It looks just terrible. No new burials take place here, although I suppose if any of the really old villagers, Billy for example, expressed a wish to be buried here we'd try to find a spot. Father Holland always says we should respect a wish for a person to be buried among his own kin.'
They stopped and she pointed upwards. ‘Do you see up there, the gargoyle?'
Meredith looked up in the direction of her pointing finger. Some kind of mythical beast formed the waterspout. She said, ‘The dragon thing?'
‘Yes. Now look to the left, along the gutter and down a bit.'
Meredith looked as directed. ‘Oh,' she said. ‘There's a carving, a face, on the side on the church right up under the eaves.'
Ruth said soberly, ‘That's him.'
A ray of sunlight caught the carving as she spoke, enabling them to see more clearly a cunning face peering from a thicket of leaves.
‘Some people,' said Ruth, ‘think he's a Celtic god, Cernunnos, but my father believed he was part of a far older tradition, before even the Celts, perhaps neolithic. There's another line of thought which links him with the rites of Dionysus, a sort of west European version of them. My father was doubtful about that. At any rate, the woods are of ancient origin. My father's researches told him they'd always been a sacred place. There's a sort of earthwork in there, mostly overgrown, which my father believed might have been a place of sacrifice. There are plenty of roof bosses and pillar capitals in other churches which show foliate heads, as my father liked to call them, to distinguish them from the real Green Man. It became a fairly common decoration, just a flight of fancy in many cases. But the original Green Man, whatever he was, lived on in people's subconscious. The men who built this church believed in him all right, the masons and workmen. They knew that this church, representing the new beliefs, challenged the old ones. So they put the Green Man up there, where he looks out towards Stovey Woods, his domain. Inside the church, he's always a sort of trespasser. But when we go to the woods, then we're the trespassers.'
She saw that the visitor was looking at her a little strangely and Ruth forced a laugh. ‘Sorry to go on so. It was a particular interest of my father's so I was brought up on all this. I don't believe in him, of course. It's just that Stovey Woods have a reputation. Over the years things have happened there, not nice
things. That's why I didn't like it when Old Billy told me a police car had gone there. I hope it doesn't mean more mischief.'
She had intrigued her visitor who looked as if she was about to ask what kind of mischief. Ruth bit her tongue and wished she hadn't been so garrulous. What had led her to burble on about the woods? The reason, she supposed, was that they were never far from her mind. They were part of that jumble of suppressed memories which lurked like a fishy monster in a lake, surfacing when least expected. But she was in luck. Her companion had been diverted and instead of putting the dreaded question, was pointing up the road which led to the woods.
‘The police car's coming back,' Meredith said. ‘And there's Alan's car behind it.'
The two women began to walk towards the lych-gate, Ruth trying to look natural, not to hurry, not to seem eager to hear any news. And I don't want to hear bad news, I couldn't bear it, she thought desperately. What shall I do if …
The police car rattled past without stopping. There was a youngish man, in his thirties, sitting in the back of it. What had he done? wondered Ruth. The following car, however, slowed and drew up. A tall, thin, fair-haired man in a pullover and chinos got out. He came towards them, smiling.
Meredith said, ‘Ruth, this is Alan Markby. This is Mrs Aston, Alan. She's the churchwarden here and her father was the last resident vicar. She grew up in the vicarage.'
Ruth found herself blushing. ‘I was just showing Meredith our church. It's not very active, I'm afraid.' She drew a deep breath. He looked a nice man. He'd tell her, wouldn't he? ‘What happened?' she asked. ‘Up at the woods?'
The man shrugged his shoulders and a fringe of fair hair fell over his forehead. He bore, thought Ruth, a superficial resemblance to old Sir Rufus with his thin features and patrician bearing.
‘Nothing to get excited about,' he said. He spoke with that kindly firmness which Ruth associated with those who carry their authority as if it were natural to them. She found she was both relieved and disappointed. That was policemen for you. Like doctors and priests, they were custodians of other people's secrets. They never parted with information. She should have known. She felt embarrassed because she knew she shouldn't have asked.
But Meredith beside her had no inhibitions and urged, ‘Oh, come on, Alan. We're dying to know.'
‘You are, you mean,' he replied good-naturedly. ‘Keep it to yourselves. A hiker sheltering from the rain found some old bones.'
Ruth heard a gasp escape her lips. She faltered, ‘Bones? What kind of bones?'
‘Not a skeleton, nothing like that. Just a few and we'll have to wait and see what the experts make of them.'
‘How awful, do you mean, not animal?' Things were going from bad to worse. Ruth thought her horror must show in her face to a degree which even he must think was more than might reasonably be expected from someone hearing the news.
‘Unlikely,' he said. ‘Human, all right. But as I say, pretty old and not many of them. I doubt they'll be easy to identify. We'll try, naturally.' He must at last have taken notice of her pale face and gaping mouth. ‘It may be an archaeological find,' he said. ‘These things turn up from time to time, unearthed by wildlife.'
Ruth pulled herself together. ‘Oh, well, then that's what it probably is. How – how interesting.'
‘Ruth's been telling me about the woods,' Meredith told him. ‘And how very old they are.'
Ruth wondered whether the man called Alan heard her. His mind seemed to be running on something else. He looked at both of them for a moment quite blankly, then blinked and said rapidly, ‘If you've finished here, Meredith, perhaps we should be getting back.'
‘Yes, sure,' Meredith said, sounding a little surprised. ‘Thank you for the guided tour, Ruth. It was really fascinating.'
‘Not at all.' As they started to walk away, Ruth called after them on impulse, ‘If you come back to Lower Stovey, to take another look at the vicarage, please come and have a cup of tea with us. My cottage is at the end of Church Lane. It's called The Old Forge because once it was a forge and I share it with an old friend. Do come, Hester and I don't get many visitors.'
They promised they'd come. She watched them get into the car and drive off. It was a nightmare. After all these years, how could it have happened? Why had she asked them to come and see her? To learn what the police found out? The man wouldn't gossip, not him, not a police officer himself. But the woman, Meredith, might. Then there was Hester. What would Hester say when she heard the news? She'd been asked to keep it to herself but she'd have to tell Hester.
There was a movement to her right in a bushy young yew. Its sprays of dark green needle-like leaves quivered and parted. A wreathed face with small malicious eyes and a snub nose appeared. Ruth gave a little shriek.
The face vanished. The bush shook again and Old Billy Twelvetrees emerged from his hiding place. She'd quite forgotten him but she should have known he'd be hanging around.
‘I heard 'un,' he said. His tongue ran over his withered lips and his expression had grown thoughtful. ‘Bones, eh? Human bones.' He drew a deep rasping breath and looked down at the grassy strip between two graves where his own stout boots were planted. ‘That's a turn-up for the books, ain't it?'
‘Bones?' Meredith ventured as they drove back to Bamford.
‘Bones. The countryside is full of them. It doesn't have to be sinister.'
‘You don't sound as if you believe that.'
His manner was too off-hand by far, she thought. You don't fool me, Alan Markby, what's going on here, eh?
‘I don't disbelieve or believe anything,' he was saying virtuously. ‘The bones were found by a young doctor walking the old drovers' way. He turned off into the woods when it started to rain, fell down a bank and
voilà
! Found himself looking at a mixed collection of odd bones which he recognised as human.'
Meredith thought about it. ‘It seemed to upset Ruth.'
‘Who? Oh, Mrs Aston. She's old Pattinson's daughter, you say? Perhaps I should have mentioned I met her father years ago.'
Meredith, glancing at him, said, ‘I'm sorry if I seemed to make a big deal out of your being here before.'
He shook his head. ‘I should have told you. You were right about the old vicarage. I don't know why I brought you out to view it. I knew it was a big place, too big.'
‘I'll go back to the estate agents,' Meredith offered. ‘There must be other houses.' She leaned back in the front passenger seat. ‘Did you get a look at the church when you were last here?'
‘Is it interesting?'
‘Oh yes. There's a carving on the outer wall of the Green Man. That's what we'd been looking at when you came back. Ruth's father was very interested in the legend.'
‘There's a farm,' Alan said suddenly. ‘It's called Greenjack Farm. It's back there alongside the woods. I went there when I came before. The Green Man legend must be connected with the name.'

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