No Stone Unturned (20 page)

Kelly traced the black line representing the railway with her finger, moving slowly out from Stratford-upon-Avon. Sure enough, before the footbridge and Wilmcote station, there was a series of contours marking the position of a small hill, right on a bend in the track. The hill was labelled Bishopton.

‘That's it, all right,' confirmed Ben. ‘That was where it happened.'

‘And not only that,' said Kelly excitedly, ‘that's where Tyson found the boot!'

For a split second, Kelly thought Ben's eyes turned misty. Then he shook his head and they seemed to come back into focus. ‘It's getting late,' he said. ‘You have to get back. I don't want to get you in any trouble.'

He leaned towards her and Kelly's heart gave a little leap. Then she felt a touch on her arm, light as a feather, and looked down to see the newspaper clipping tucked into her jacket pocket. When she looked up again, Ben was moving away.

‘But wait,' she said, her voice suddenly tight. ‘Mum and Dad wanted to meet you.'

‘I can't, Kel, not now. I'm really sorry. It's nearly seven and my parents said I couldn't stay out too long tonight either. I've really got to go. Maybe next time?'

‘Okay,' replied Kelly trying to sound cool. Truthfully she had hoped he would come in with her and perhaps stay a while, but instead she said, ‘It would probably all be a bit embarrassing anyway. Like I said, I think Mum and Dad are convinced we're an item.'

‘An item?'

‘You know, boyfriend and girlfriend. Crazy, hey?'

Ben chuckled as he crossed over the lane.

‘Listen,' Kelly called after him. ‘I don't know about you, but I'm curious to know who died in that accident.'

Ben stopped and turned round. ‘How can we do that?'

‘Well there are birth and death records…but we might not need to go that far. If they were local people, there might be some clues in the churchyard. The victims could be buried there. Fancy a trip to the cemetery?'

‘Er, maybe. When?'

‘How about tomorrow, before school? If we met there at seven-thirty, I'd still have half an hour or so before my bus.'

‘Seven-thirty? I guess that's all right,' said Ben, looking a little unsure. ‘It will be empty then, won't it? I mean, we can explore without being disturbed, can't we?' Kelly nodded. ‘Fine. I'll see you then. Can you apologise to your parents for me, for not coming to introduce myself?'

‘Will do.'

Kelly watched Ben climb up onto the stile at the start of the footpath. She didn't expect him to look back again, but just before he jumped down the other side he paused and his eyes met hers across the lane.

‘Would it be that crazy then?' he called, smiling cheekily at her.

‘What?' asked Kelly, bemused.

‘If you and I
were
, what did you call it? An item?'

‘I guess not,' she laughed nervously, ‘but I wouldn't rate the chances of it lasting.'

‘Why not?'

‘A farm boy whose family has lived in the same cottage for centuries and a Traveller girl with roaming in her blood? Come on!'

Ben laughed and waved her goodbye.

Kelly stood and held her breath as Ben moved away along the path. She watched him until she had to strain her eyes to make out his shape, getting smaller and smaller in the distance. Only when he had completely disappeared from view did she finally let out a little whistle and summon Tyson to her side.

She looked down and smiled. ‘Are you going to carry that for me? Good lad. Just don't chew it. I think that boot might be rather special after all.'

Chapter 25 – September 1860

M
ost of the building work on the Palace of Westminster was now complete, and Sir Charles Barry's monthly inspection should have been a positive one. But he was so tired of the whole project, and so stressed by years of overcoming one problem or delay after the next, that he was unable to enjoy the fruits of his labours or appreciate the building's magnificence. He felt anxious and irritable, and in every room, hall or chamber he entered, he could see only more and more items for the snag list.

At Sir Charles' side as he paced about the palace was his son, Edward. Now thirty-seven and a tall, slim, fine-looking gentleman, Edward had followed his father into architecture, and had become his right-hand man in the practice. He had come to know the building almost as intimately as his father.

‘This project is now twenty years old,' Sir Charles moaned, coming to a halt in the entrance to the Royal Gallery. ‘Twenty years since your dear mother laid that first foundation stone! And I boasted that it would take me six. If I am unable to sign off the project before the State Opening of Parliament in November, it will be beyond a joke. I will be a joke. But who am I trying to fool? I am a joke already!'

Edward looked sympathetically at his father, red-faced, breathless and perspiring after their ascent of the Royal Staircase which led up to the first floor from the base of Victoria Tower. ‘You could never be that, Father. Come, let's rest a moment while you catch your breath.'

Sir Charles stopped to pull a handkerchief from his top pocket and dab at his forehead, but he refused to sit down. Hurrying along the length of the Royal Gallery, he led his son into the Prince's Chamber. ‘There are some extraordinarily expensive carpets to be fitted in this part of the building next month. This place needs to be completely clean and dust free before then. Look at this!' Sir Charles wiped his finger across the knee of the enthroned statue that dominated the room. ‘Whatever would Her Majesty say if she saw herself covered in a layer of dust!'

‘Father, calm yourself. All this will be taken care of,' Edward said. ‘It's not all your responsibility. You shouldn't be worrying about a bit of dust here and there. Besides, Richard Greenslade at Wilmcote has promised faithfully that we will have delivery of the last batch of flooring stone next week. I understand it's all ready to be loaded onto the wagons, and he's promised to send a team of his best stonemasons to help finish off the job on site.'

‘Promised faithfully, has he? Well, he's more of a gambling man than I. He's relying on that new track being fully operational in, what, the next three days? Talk about a close shave! If he lets me down, I'll wring his neck.'

‘Steady on,' said Edward. ‘Look, why don't you send Greenslade a telegram? Tell him to sit on that railway company's back from dawn till dusk until that first train leaves the station.'

‘Good idea,' said Sir Charles, patting his son's shoulder approvingly. ‘I shall tell him in no uncertain terms, that if my stone is not here in London by the beginning of next week, he'll be reimbursing me for my share in the line. We had a deal and I don't want to learn that my financial investment was a waste of time.'

Chapter 26 – September 1860

I
t was into Alice's trembling hand that the telegram was placed. She knew as soon as she saw the London office stamp in the corner that it was from Sir Charles Barry, and she doubted that it would be good news. But, conscious that the message must be urgent, she hurried down the hall to Greenslade's study right away.

‘Sorry to disturb you, Mr Greenslade,' she said quietly, after knocking on the door and entering the room, ‘but there's a telegram for you. I think it's from London.'

She handed the paper over and took a silent step back, hoping that her employer wouldn't dismiss her before he read it. She wanted to see his reaction. Perhaps he would tell her what it said.

She was in luck. He was obviously as anxious as she to know what Sir Charles had to say, for he seized the telegram and scanned it rapidly, moving his lips as he read each word, while a deep furrow formed in his brow. ‘Good Lord! As if I wasn't under enough pressure,' he mumbled, throwing the telegram down onto his desk.

‘Oh dear. Is it bad news? Can I help, Mr Greenslade?'

‘I wish you could, Alice! But there's nothing you can do. Although your husband can, and his workmates. They need to put in as much extra effort as they can and make sure my stone is making its way down that railway line by next week.'

Greenslade picked up the telegram and began reading it through again.

‘But there are only three days to go until the official opening,' Alice reminded him. ‘They're already working so hard, Mr Greenslade, I know they are.'

‘I'm not criticising your husband, or any of his workmates. They've worked their tails off in the past few weeks. And I know that the railway company has already driven a test engine up and down the line between Stratford-upon-Avon and Hatton junction. But I heard this morning that the driver reported some vibration on the bend in the track near Bishopton Hill. So there are still some running repairs to do.'

‘Will that mean they will have put back the official opening?'

‘Oh no, no, no. They can't afford to do that.' Greenslade got to his feet and put on his coat. ‘They just need to get the engineers to pack some extra ballast around the track at that point. I'm sure they can do that without bringing everything to a halt.'

Alice nodded, not moving from the spot as he walked past her, heading for the door. She decided to risk asking one last question.

‘Was that what the telegram was about, sir? The railway?'

Greenslade paused, his hand on the door knob, and for a split second Alice thought he was going to reprimand her for speaking out of turn. Then he said, ‘In a nutshell, yes. Let's just say it's given me one more reason to make sure that my delivery is on that train and arriving in London by the start of next week.'

Seeing the worry on his face, Alice felt she had to offer something. ‘It's not much, I know, but I can ask William to spread the word among the men. Ask them to give it one last push.'

Greenslade smiled. ‘Thank you, Alice. Hopefully, if we all play our part, we will all be on that station platform on Saturday with something to celebrate. And if we are, I promise you that there will be a bonus in everyone's pay packet, including yours!'

Now it was Alice's turn to smile.

Greenslade glanced at the old carriage clock on the mantelpiece above the fire. ‘Heavens! It's nearly noon already. I must be off. Can you tell my wife that I have gone into town on an urgent matter, please? I have to pay Reginald Adkins a visit at the Stratford-upon-Avon Railway Company offices.'

Chapter 27 – September 2012

F
or Kelly, Friday morning usually meant a hurried slice of toast and a last-minute rush down to the bus stop. She was never good at getting out of bed on school days, and as she grew more and more tired throughout the week, leaving behind the comfort of her warm duvet became an increasingly big challenge. This wasn't helped by the fact that she allowed herself one extra snooze each day, so that by the time Friday came around, she got up a whole fifteen minutes later.

But Kelly's approach to getting up on this particular Friday was quite different. So excited was she about meeting Ben at the churchyard that she had set her alarm a whole hour earlier and, when it went off, jumped straight out of bed. By seven o'clock, she was already sitting at the breakfast table, dipping a banana into her pineapple yoghurt.