No Stone Unturned (18 page)

‘Sorry, Dad. Sorry. It's nothing. Well, I mean, not nothing. Just something Ben has found. It's about the railway.' She waved the newspaper clipping, as if trying to fan the expression of alarm off her father's face.

‘Jeez, Kelly! I thought I was about to hit something.'

‘No. You're fine, Dad. But there
was
an accident here. Four people were killed!'

‘You're joking? Anyone we know?'

‘No.' Kelly laughed. ‘I don't know who it was. And it was a hundred and fifty years ago, Dad.'

‘Oh well, that's all right then.'

‘Well, not really.'

‘No, you know what I mean. A hundred-and-fifty-year-old accident? What's that got to do with you? With us? Now?'

‘It means I have a whole new chapter for my history project, that's for sure!' Kelly put the clipping safely inside the envelope. ‘It's not just history now, Dad, it's a mystery, too. I've got to find out who the victims were.'

Dad playfully nudged her upper arm with his fist. ‘I don't know, Kel. You're one on your own, you are. You're a clever girl, that's for sure. Perhaps you
were
right about staying on at school.'

Kelly smiled broadly. ‘Thanks, Dad.' She leaned over to plant a big kiss on his cheek.

‘Any time.' Dad watched Kelly in silence as she gathered her things and prepared to put up her umbrella as she stepped out of the car. She met his eyes as she popped her head back inside to say goodbye.

‘I'm guessing this means you'll be wanting to see that boy again, though?' Dad asked, his smile turning to a slight grimace.

‘I think I have to,' said Kelly quietly. ‘Besides, he has apologised, in the note. Is that okay with you if I see him again? Can you back me up with Mum?'

Dad sighed. ‘I guess so. But if he upsets you like that again, he'll have me to answer to. And your mum and I meant what we said about wanting to meet him.'

‘Sure. Thanks, Dad,' said Kelly once more. She closed the door, stepped back and gave a little wave with her brolly.

As Kelly watched Dad's car pull away along the wet road, she noticed the postman walking towards her. He was a sprightly, friendly-faced, middle-aged chap with a bushy brown beard, and Kelly had bumped into him many times while out on her walks with Tyson. He waved to Kelly who, after checking her watch, dashed over to him.

She spoke quickly. ‘I haven't got much time. My bus is coming any second. But could you possibly do something for me on your round today?'

The postman grinned. ‘Depends on what it is. Anything to do with heavy boxes or angry guard dogs and you can count me out.'

‘No, nothing like that,' laughed Kelly. ‘I just wondered if you could put a note through someone's door for me.'

‘Well… I'm not supposed to, really, love.'

‘Pleeeease?' begged Kelly, putting her hands together as if in prayer. ‘It's for my friend. I've got to get a message to him and I don't know his phone number. It's really important.'

The postman relented. ‘Oh, go on then. But just this once.'

Kelly handed her umbrella to the postman who, to his own surprise, took it without question and held it over her while she rummaged for a notebook and began scribbling a note.

Ben

Apology accepted.

Meet 6pm tonight (Thursday). Campsite gate. Urgent
!

Love Kelly

Kelly folded the note three times then wrote
Ben, Stone Pit Cottage
on the outside. Taking her umbrella back, she pressed the note into the postman's hand. Over his shoulder she could see her bus approaching.

‘Do you know the cottage at the end of the lane beyond Stone Pit Farm? Stone Pit Cottage?'

‘Er, yes,' said the postman. ‘Well, I mean, I know where it is but I never go any further than the gate. They never get any parcels. Rarely get any letters either. Mostly just a bit of junk mail and I always stick that in the postbox at the end of the track. I'll put your note in there, if you like.'

‘I guess that'll be okay,' said Kelly, walking backwards away from him, ready to jump on her bus when it pulled up. ‘But I need to be sure my friend'll see the note today. You couldn't go up to the cottage for me, could you? Pop it through the door?' She gave him one of her nicest smiles.

‘Look, love, that's a long, shabby old lane and it's full of pot-holes, and I'm already doing you a favour,' the postman shouted back. ‘Besides, are you
sure
you've got the right address ‘cause…'

The end of his sentence was washed away as a stressed parent on the school run zoomed by in her people carrier and decanted the contents of a giant puddle over the pavement. Kelly, who narrowly escaped a drenching, was unsure whether or not to run back and grab her note from the postman, but she couldn't think of any better way of getting the note to Ben. Instead, she gave him a cheerful wave and mouthed ‘Thank you,' as she stepped onto her bus.

PART 5

Chapter 23 – September 1860

T
herefore, my dear brothers and sisters, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know nothing you do in the Lord's service is in vain.'

Billy reached the end of his reading and gently closed his Bible before stepping out from behind the lectern and returning to his seat in the front row pew beside his mother. She smiled at him and patted the empty place as he approached. Alice always looked forward to her father's Sunday morning service. It was an hour of peace and tranquillity, when she felt safe and sheltered from life's challenges. She particularly enjoyed the services when Billy read. He spoke so well, his voice so clear and confident, that she was left bursting with pride, and she knew that her father, looking on from his seat beside the lectern, shared her emotion.

Furthermore, this week Billy had chosen the reading himself from the list in the Lectionary—a fact her father had made clear to his congregation when he invited his grandson to come and stand before them.
1 Corinthians 15:51-58
, a passage about the resurrection of Jesus Christ, revealing the ‘secret truth' about the glorious after-life open to those who chose a life of hard work and good deeds. Billy had selected it for his father, to give him and the men like him, who were so exhausted from months of hard labour on the railway, the encouragement and strength of mind to reach their goal which, like the coming autumn, was now close enough to almost reach out and touch.

Alice felt humbled by her son's ability to see the best in his father. In spite of all the tension which William caused in their home, his constant nagging at Billy to leave school, and—they had to admit it—his increasing reliance on alcohol to boost his morale, Billy never gave up on him. He always believed that his father would come good. He had even made excuses for him that morning, when it was time to leave for Church and he was still unconscious in his bed. ‘He's exhausted, Mother,' Billy had said. ‘God will understand.'

Alice hoped that Billy was right and she prayed that God would also understand why she was no longer finding it easy to be so generous in spirit.

Billy and Alice held back as the congregation filed out of the church at the end of the service, each person stopping in the doorway to shake hands with Reverend Knott and offer him their thanks. When, finally, the last of them had gone, Alice and Billy stepped outside into the crisp September air.

‘You
are
still coming to the vicarage for lunch?' asked the vicar, greeting his daughter with a kiss on the cheek.

‘Of course,' Alice replied, patting her father on the arm.

‘Without William? He is missing lunch as well as the service?'

Alice looked down and spoke to her feet. ‘William is not well, Father. He has to rest.'

The vicar glanced at his grandson, raising his eyebrows in disbelief, but Billy backed up his mother's statement with a swift nod of his head. In an effort to divert his grandfather from the topic, he began walking towards the rectory.

‘The colours of the leaves are simply gorgeous this time of year, aren't they, Father?' asked Alice, with the same intention as Billy.

But her father was not going to allow himself be led off track. ‘Is he so in need of rest that he is unable to give his thanks to God? Surely he could rest after lunch. And besides, why
is
he in need of all this rest? I heard that all the line was now laid.'

‘That's right, Father, it is,' replied Alice, hurrying along between the gravestones. ‘But there's still an awful lot to do to prepare for the official opening. That's just two weeks away and everything has to be working smoothly before the first train runs.'

Billy joined in. ‘Most of the workforce has been laid off now, Grandpa. The few that are left are all local men, like Father. Father says the foreman has them running back and forth all the time. Everything has to look spick and span and there are still last-minute adjustments to be made to the line.'

‘Well I do appreciate that there must be a lot of pressure on them,' the vicar conceded. ‘Richard Greenslade is certainly desperate to get his stone down to London more quickly. I'm surprised he hasn't insisted that they start sending goods trains down the line already. He's got a stake in the railway, I believe, so he ought to have a say in what goes on, too.'

They reached the vicarage and went inside. The vicar touched his grandson on the shoulder. ‘Billy, be a good boy and go to the kitchen to tell Cook that we're back. That roast beef smells more than ready to me.'

As soon as the boy was out of earshot, Alice's father returned to the topic of his son-in-law. ‘If it really
was
an exhausting workload that kept that husband of yours in his crib, I might forgive him, but I know that's not the case. He might be suffering, all right, but not from illness. I know it's the demon drink! I saw him with my own eyes, staggering homewards up the lane last night, hanging off the shoulders of those friends of his.'

Alice went pale. Tired of constantly covering for her husband, she collapsed into a chair and put her head in her hands.

Her father continued his rant. ‘William should be ashamed of himself, leaving his wife and son at home of an evening with barely a loaf of bread on the table while he spends all the money he earns on ale.'

‘He deserves to let off some steam. I'm not exaggerating the pressure he is under,' said Alice, blowing her nose into her handkerchief.

‘Maybe not, but
you
deserve a husband who is well-mannered and doesn't bring you shame. And I'll wager he doesn't treat you well when he gets home full of ale. If he ever gives me reason to suspect that he's laid a finger on you…'

‘My father would never do that!' Billy was standing in the doorway, glaring, his fists clenched at his sides. ‘He loves my mother. He's trying so hard to please everyone—his foreman, Mother, me…and you! He knows he can never please you.'

‘You're right there, my lad. He'll never please me as long as he keeps climbing into a cask of ale to drown out his problems.' The vicar was now in full flow, unable to stop the venomous words spilling from his lips. ‘It's shameful. After all I've done to welcome God into this community. Those quarrymen may have brought wealth to the village but they've taken us to the depths of debauchery at the same time, and your father's at the heart of it. Oh yes. He may have left the quarry face, but he's still a—what do they call it? A Stonehead at heart.'

‘Shut your mouth!' Billy, stiff with rage, had taken a step towards his grandfather.

‘Stop it!' screamed Alice. ‘Both of you. Apologise to your grandfather, Billy, now!'

‘Why me?' Billy hissed at her through gritted teeth. ‘You heard what he said.'

‘Because he's your grandfather. He only says it because he loves you, Billy.' Billy, still fuming, said nothing. ‘Then do it for me,' pleaded Alice, crossing the room to stand between her son and her father.

Billy's shoulders dropped. He looked past his mother directly into his grandfather's eyes. ‘I'm sorry, Grandpa,' he croaked. ‘But you're wrong about Father. He'll see us right. If the line opens on time, he'll get two extra months' pay. We'll be fine.'

The vicar turned to his daughter. ‘At least let me give you some money until then, Alice. I know how bad things are. You need not tell William.'

Alice wanted to accept, but when she saw the look in Billy's eye she changed her mind. ‘Thank you, Father, but no. Billy's right. William is due some extra wages, and he'd be so angry if he knew I had accepted your money. We are already taking your charity by living in your cottage. We must leave the man with some pride.'

‘You mean he still has some of that?' scoffed the vicar.

‘Father, please!' cried Alice, exasperated.