No Stone Unturned (17 page)

‘Ingenious,' said Kelly, laughing. She was starting to regain her composure. ‘Look, sorry I'm a bit late.'

‘It's fine,' replied Ben, smiling. ‘I knew you were coming.'

‘Yeah but it means we've got less than an hour.'

‘Then you'd better take a look at this right away.' Ben pulled a narrow, sepia-coloured envelope from his shirt pocket and waved it enticingly in front of Kelly's face. ‘No, Tyson, it's not for you,' he added, as the excited little dog jumped up, convinced he was getting a treat. ‘This is for Kelly. A map of the quarry. Showing everything that was here in the 1850s, before the railway was built.'

‘Wow!' exclaimed Kelly, taking the envelope from him and gently extracting the contents. ‘This looks a bit delicate.'

‘It is. It's very old now.'

‘Where did you find it?'

‘Oh,' said Ben, scratching his head. ‘I remembered that there was one in the attic.'

Kelly tied Tyson's lead to the rail where he wasn't in any danger of spoiling the old document, and she and Ben went to sit on the grassy slope next to the bridge. Kelly carefully unfolded the map and began examining it closely, checking off all the sites she and Ben had visited. Ben was right about the route of the tramway from the main quarry pit. A dotted line showed it winding its way down the hill past the lime kilns, which were marked with a series of ink lines, like tally marks, pointing inwards in a tiny circle. The tramline led to a series of buildings by the side of the canal labelled Blue Lias Lime and Cement Works.

‘We haven't seen any sign of those, have we?' asked Kelly.

‘No. They're long gone. Although the ground is very bumpy over there. Perhaps that's the foundations, under the soil.'

‘What about that hut in the wood, near the well?' Kelly traced the map with her finger. ‘Look. The well is marked on, but not the shed. That means it must have been put there later. I still think it had something to do with the railway. If this map is definitely dated 1850, and we know the railway opened in 1860, the shed could have been put there sometime in between. Perhaps it was a workmen's hut, or a storage hut.'

‘Or it could be nothing to do with the railway at all,' said Ben. ‘What else can we see on the map? Look, here's my cottage.'

Kelly wasn't listening. She couldn't shake the feeling that the shed was connected, somehow, to the railway. Then she remembered something. She jumped to her feet and went over to her bag, which Tyson was happily curled up against as he lay on the grass.

‘Sorry, Tyson,' she mumbled, as she delved inside.

‘What are you looking for?' asked Ben.

‘My camera. I took a photo, didn't I? Inside the shed.'

‘Yes, but it was pitch black in there,' said Ben. ‘What could the camera possibly see?'

‘It's got a flash.'

‘What flash? You never said anything about seeing a flash.'

‘No, silly! I'm talking about the camera's flash.'

Kelly sat down next to Ben and began scanning through all the photos she had taken. ‘Look. There's the lime kiln. It was after that,' she said, tilting the view finder so Ben could see too. ‘Here. There's the shed. Before I went in.'

She flicked through two more shots. One a close up of the old door handle, the next completely black.

‘There. I told you. It was too dark,' crowed Ben, sounding almost relieved.

But then Kelly pressed the scroll button once more, and they both gasped. Lit up perfectly by her flash, hanging down from a roof beam, was a rope. A rope tied into the shape of a hangman's noose.

‘What the hell…?' cried Kelly, almost dropping the camera.

Wide-eyed, she looked up at Ben, who had turned a ghostly shade of white.

Kelly felt a little dizzy. The memory of the creaking noise she had heard in the shed was all too clear. ‘I'm a bit creeped out,' she said quietly. ‘Why on earth would there be a noose in there?'

She saw Ben swallow hard. He was clearly contemplating the possibilities. After a few seconds, he said, ‘You know, it's most likely some part of a pulley system. If the shed was used to store equipment for the railway—sleepers maybe—they probably needed some way of lifting things. Some of that stuff was incredibly heavy, you know.'

Kelly wasn't convinced, but she couldn't think of any other practical reason for the noose being there, and her nana had always told her not to pick holes in someone's argument unless you could think of something better.

‘Perhaps you're right. I did see some old pieces of timber in there.' Kelly switched off her camera and slipped it into her pocket. She nodded at the map. ‘What else can you see on there?'

Ben began explaining what he knew about some of the other features that were marked, including an old barn further along the canal which was a sawmill. ‘That was where they cut the stone. They did that near to the canal because they needed water to pour over the stones as they were cut. They used sand too.'

‘But what did the masons cut the stone with? That must have been tough.' Kelly tried to sound interested, but she couldn't get the picture of the rope out of her head.

‘Well they had engines by then, for power. It wasn't done by hand.'

‘Would there be anything left inside the barn, do you think? An old engine?'

‘I doubt it,' laughed Ben. ‘The tinkers will have robbed all the metal long ago—' He stopped short, realising what he had just said.

Kelly's mouth closed into a small pout. She marched over to Tyson and began fumbling with his lead, untying him as quickly as she could.

‘What are you doing?' asked Ben, tentatively.

Kelly shook her head, frustrated by the tears which spilled so easily down her cheeks. ‘I thought you were different,' she sobbed, ‘but you're just as prejudiced as the rest of them! We're not all thieves, you know!'

Ben looked appalled. ‘No. Wait. Kelly, I didn't mean…'

Kelly wasn't listening. She grabbed her bag and began to drag Tyson towards the footpath. ‘I had some great news to tell you but you can forget it. I'm going to finish this project on my own. I don't need help from someone like you!'

‘But what about the map?' Ben called after her.

‘You can keep it!' she barked back, over her shoulder.

Chapter 22 – September 2012

K
elly woke up the next morning feeling as wretched as the weather. She could hear the rain splattering against the window above her pillow and when she reached out to hit the snooze button on her alarm clock, the chill in her room created instant goosebumps on her arm. Groaning, she pulled her duvet up tight around her neck and snuggled back down into the warmth. But the precious extra few minutes of sleep that Kelly hoped for eluded her. The angry words that she had directed at Ben the night before buzzed around her brain, and when she closed her eyes, one image after the other flickered on the back of her eyelids like a gruesome slide show—Ben using that horrible T word; the old map, handwritten labels and black lines merging into one; menacing dark water rippling at the end of a slimy green well shaft; the cobweb-strewn shed; and that sickening, twisted, knotted loop of rope.

Kelly knew it was no good. She was not going to get back to sleep now. She might as well get up. She threw back the duvet and reached for her school uniform, shivering as she pulled on her skirt and fumbled with cold fingers at the buttons on her blouse. She kept replaying her conversation with Ben in her head and it made her angry and frustrated at the same time.

She had been so excited about sharing her news about the Houses of Parliament with Ben, yet with the discovery of that photo, and the old map, she hadn't even got round to telling him. And then he had made that stupid remark about tinkers. She felt so let down. Ben might have pretended to be cool about Travellers, but under the surface he was as prejudiced as everyone else.

Kelly's mood was not helped by her parents' comments over breakfast. When Kelly had burst into the caravan the night before, hoping to retreat straight to her room, her mum had demanded to know where Ben was and why he hadn't walked her home, as agreed. ‘We had a fight, okay?' Kelly had blurted out, wiping away her tears with the back of her hand. ‘I wouldn't have let him walk me home even if he'd paid me.'

Mum had let the matter lie at that point, but she had obviously been talking about it with Kelly's dad afterwards, because over breakfast they both seemed keen to press Kelly further.

‘There was no need to snap at me when you came in last night,' commented Mum as she poured herself a coffee. ‘I'm only looking out for you. And having you wandering about the countryside all evening with a boy we've never met isn't exactly ideal.'

‘I was gone less than an hour, Mum!' Kelly mumbled, through a mouthful of Rice Krispies. ‘And it won't be a problem from now on it, will it? I won't be seeing Ben any more.'

‘Look, Kelly, we're sorry you and your friend have fallen out,' Dad said. ‘But it's like we always say, mixing with outsiders ain't easy. Better to stick to your own kind.'

‘He seemed so nice though.' Kelly put her spoon down. She didn't feel like eating any more. ‘I thought he was different.'

Apparently reassured, Kelly's dad waved an olive branch in the form of a lift to the bus stop. Hearing the rain still pouring outside, Kelly enthusiastically accepted and dashed off to her room to fetch her coat and her school bag.

She kissed her mum goodbye, pulled the hood of her coat down low over her head, jumped down from the caravan, waved to Tyson who was peering miserably out at her from the door of his kennel, and raced down the path towards her dad's Nissan. At the gate, Dad pulled up and glanced over at Kelly with a lop-sided grin.

‘Oh do I have to?' Kelly whined, realising that he wanted her to get out and open the gate. ‘I thought the whole point of this lift was to keep me dry!'

Dad just nodded, giving her a cheeky wink.

Reluctantly, Kelly climbed out, her shoes squelching on the wet grass. She dragged the gate open, held it while Dad drove through, and was about to close it again when she noticed an envelope sticking out of their post box, which stood in a row of boxes at the entrance to the site, each bearing a family name. Dropping the latch on the gate, she ran over to the box and grabbed the envelope, shielding it with her body from the worst of the rain as she raced to get back inside the car.

‘What you got there, love?' asked Dad, tipping his head in the direction of the envelope.

‘I don't know.' Kelly turned the envelope over to see her name written in large letters on the front. It was a large, old-fashioned style envelope, sealed at what was now a rather soggy end, not with glue but by a thin piece of red string wrapped around a red cardboard disc. Kelly unwound the string, opened the flap and tipped the contents out onto her lap.

‘It's from Ben,' she announced, as the car bumped along the lane.

‘Peace offering?' enquired Dad.

‘Maybe,' she mumbled, recognising the map from the night before. Along with it was a note, written in the same ink and the same, surprisingly elaborate handwriting as the envelope.

I'M SORRY
!
I did not wish to offend you. You have taught me so much yet I still have so much to learn. I hope you can forgive me and we can still be friends. But whatever happens, I want you to have this. Don't give up
!

Ben

One side of Kelly's mouth curled into a smile. Without saying anything, she began to slip the note and the map back inside the envelope but as she did so, she noticed another document tucked in between the folds of the map. It was a tiny, yellowed, newspaper cutting.

The movement of the car and the small type size made it difficult to read at first, and Kelly had to hold the clipping up in front of her face to bring it into focus. It was headed
The Stratford-upon-Avon Times
and the date at the top read 15
^th
March, 1861. But it was the headline that caused Kelly to take a sharp intake of breath:

‘Accidental Death' verdict in Bishopton Hill Railway Tragedy

A coroner's inquest into the loss of four lives at Bishopton Hill on the Stratford-upon-Avon to Hatton railway line in September last year has resulted in a verdict of accidental death. The owners of the line, the Stratford-upon-Avon Railway Company, were found not guilty of any negligence or mis-management. It was established that nothing could have been done to prevent this freak yet tragic accident which happened just outside the village of Wilmcote.

‘Oh my God!' Kelly shrieked, covering her open mouth with her hand.

‘What? What?' cried Dad, rapidly looking about him to see what he was about to hit, and stamping so hard on the brakes that his tyres locked. The car slid to a halt a few metres short of the bus stop.