No Stone Unturned (24 page)

‘I wonder what kind of relative,' said Mum. ‘A great-great-grandad or uncle or something maybe? Does it say whether he was married or had any kids?'

Kelly scrolled down the record to the list of Household Members. ‘Yes. Here. It says Alice Denton, age 21. She's listed as his wife. And there's a son, Billy Denton, age four. Wow!'

‘So that means Alice was seventeen when she had him.'

‘She was quite young, then.'

‘I reckon it would depend on your circumstances. I'll bet people lower down in society had kids much younger than the toffs.'

‘The census says that William was working in the quarry in 1851. That's pretty low down in society, I guess. I wonder if moving on to being a railway labourer was seen as a step up?'

‘Maybe. I certainly think
I'd
prefer it. But then again, it didn't bring poor William and his family much luck did it, if he ended up getting killed?'

Kelly shook her head. She was lost in thought. This family were just names on an old census record, hidden away in some huge, faceless database, but it felt like she knew them, and she was surprised how sad she felt, especially when she tried to visualise little four-year-old Billy, whose father would be dead by the time he reached his teens.

Kelly was glad that the next day was a Saturday. She hadn't seen Ben for a week, since that misty morning in the churchyard. She had wanted to give him time to sort out whatever it was that was bothering him. But she had hoped he would make the first move and get in contact with her. So far, nothing. Even so, Kelly might have left things a little longer to calm down had she not managed to lay her hands on these documents. News of a death certificate
and
a census record was too much to hold in. She had to share it with Ben.

The next morning, as soon as all her jobs were done, Kelly set off for Ben's cottage, with Tyson in tow and her notebook and copies of the records in her bag. It was a beautiful morning—clear sunny skies and crisp underfoot. The unexpected sunshine filled Kelly with positive energy. She couldn't wait to see Ben.

And she didn't have to wait long. She saw him the moment she started along the footpath into the woods, walking towards her. He was wearing the same old trousers he always did and, Kelly noticed, in spite of the chill in the air, he had no jacket on top of his favourite green checked shirt. Although Ben looked quite relaxed and happy, Kelly felt a strange sense of disquiet. It seemed so odd that after a whole week of silence, there he should be, walking towards the campsite, as if he knew she needed to see him. She wondered if Ben had come this way at other times during the last seven days, waiting for her to go for a walk with Tyson. Or was it just a happy coincidence that they had decided to find one another at exactly the same time?

Tyson began to yap and pulled at his leash. Kelly tried to rein him in, embarrassed that a little dog could drag her along in such an ungainly fashion, but her feet were slipping on the fallen leaves so she had no choice but to break into a jog.

‘Hello there,' said Ben, looking a bit sheepish, as Kelly got closer.

Kelly presumed that he felt bad about the way their last meeting had ended. To show that there were no hard feelings, she stepped up to him, murmured ‘S'good to see you,' and went to give him a kiss on the cheek. As she did it, she realised that this was the first time she and Ben had been quite so close. Ben must have realised that too, because he pulled back before she could touch him, a look of surprise on his face.

Kelly felt the need to explain. ‘I've been worried about you, Ben Denton.' She curled Tyson's lead around her fingers. ‘That's your surname, isn't it? Denton. You never told me.'

Ben looked shocked. When he responded, he spoke slowly. ‘Yes. Denton's my family name. I knew there had to be a connection the moment I saw those initials on the gravestone.'

‘But you knew what W. T. D. stood for.'

‘Not really. I mean, I think I just saw the D and thought of my own name. D for Denton.'

‘But you said the whole name.'

‘When?'

‘In the churchyard. Last Friday. You said William Thomas Denton.'

Ben reached down and picked up a stick. ‘Why don't you let Tyson off?' He waved the stick at the little dog, ‘You want to play fetch, don't you, boy?'

‘Ben?' Kelly didn't understand.

‘There you go,' said Ben, still ignoring her and unclipping Tyson's lead. ‘Good lad. Fetch the stick!'

Kelly watched as Ben threw the stick into the trees and Tyson shot off after it, his little legs pumping furiously, propelling him at top speed through the grass. Should she press Ben further? Remembering her father's advice, she decided to try a different angle. ‘Well, since I saw you last, I've been to the Records Office.'

Ben didn't respond, but she carried on. ‘I managed to get hold of a copy of William Denton's death certificate. The age and dates match those on the grave, and it looks like he
was
killed working on the railway. And if he is in a shared grave with three others, we've got to be talking about the same accident that's described in that newspaper article.'

Ben was looking at her again, but she found it difficult to read his expression. Something between intrigued and anxious. Choosing her words carefully, she continued. ‘I found William in the Census records too, for 1851. He lived in your cottage, Ben, didn't he? And he had a wife and a son.'

Ben swallowed hard. ‘It said that?'

‘Yes, it lists everyone in the household on that date. They're your relatives, aren't they?'

‘Apparently,' muttered Ben, turning away.

For a few minutes the pair walked in silence along the footpath, side by side, into the wood. Eventually, Ben asked tentatively, ‘What else did it say?'

‘Not a lot, but one thing
was
interesting. It listed William's occupation as a quarryman. Imagine that! He must have worked in Wilmcote quarry before he went to work on the railway.' Kelly paused, before asking, in a small voice, ‘Do you know anything else about your relatives, then, Ben?'

‘Not really.'

Kelly wanted to get everything clear in her head. ‘Well, what
do
we know?' she said, climbing up to perch on the top of a stile. ‘We know that the railway was opened on 29
^th
September 1860, and we know that Wilmcote quarry was supplying stone for the Houses of Parliament. For a job as big as that, as far away as London, the new railway line must have been a real bonus. It would have been by far the quickest way to move the stone. Far better than moving it by canal. Yes?'

Ben nodded, climbing up to sit alongside her. Tyson sniffed about beneath their dangling feet.

Kelly carried on. ‘And
now
we know that on the day before the railway officially opened, four men died—and at least one of them was a railway labourer. So chances are they all were, if they were buried together. They were certainly all local. They could even have been friends.'

‘Yes I think they were,' said Ben, looking at his hands.

‘Yet there is hardly any information about the accident that we've been able to find. There was no detail on William's death certificate, no mention on the internet—just that newspaper clipping you found. And there was nothing obvious on the men's gravestones, not even their full names. How weird is that?'

‘Very,' said Ben. ‘You would think the victims deserved to be named at least.'

‘Exactly!' said Kelly, delighted that at last Ben seemed to be on the same page as her. ‘But why? It's like someone was trying to gloss over it. Make as little fuss as possible, or deliberately make the details hard for people to trace. Who could have something to hide, do you think?'

‘Someone with the power and influence to cover up four deaths.'

Kelly shivered. ‘Ooh, that's quite a scary thought. Almost as disturbing as that hangman's noose in the old shed!'

Ben sprang off the stile as if an electric current had passed through it. Tyson gave a yelp of protest.

‘Hey, watch out!' cried Kelly. ‘You trod on his tail!'

Ben spun round. ‘Why do you have to keep going on about that noose? I told you it gives me the creeps. Besides, what can it possibly have to do with anything?'

‘Sorry
.' Kelly's apology dripped with sarcasm as she climbed down to scoop Tyson up into her arms. ‘I forgot you were such a baby about that.'

Ben didn't look amused, so Kelly decided to let it drop.

‘Whatever,' she resumed. ‘There must have been plenty of people in Wilmcote who knew what went on. An accident like that couldn't have been swept under the carpet completely. People talk in small communities, don't they?' She plopped Tyson into Ben's arms, forcing him to give the dog a conciliatory cuddle. ‘Mum suggested asking somebody local. Someone who might have a good knowledge of history round here—a storyteller or a local historian or someone like that. But I don't really know anyone in the village, apart from you.'

‘Nor do I,' said Ben.

‘But you've lived here all your life!'

‘I know, but I don't have any school friends, and my parents…well, they're always busy on the farm. They don't socialise much.'

The two friends fell silent, contemplating their next move.

‘I've got an idea,' announced Kelly. ‘I think we should go to the pub!'

‘What?' asked Ben, placing Tyson back on the ground. ‘Why?'

‘Because if you're looking for locals—I mean, old folk who have lived here a long time, people who might have relatives who told them stories about this place—it's not a bad place to start. The landlord is bound to know who's who in the village. He might be able to suggest someone we could talk to. Come on!'

Kelly patted her leg to summon Tyson to her side and began to walk off in the direction of the village. Ben hung back. ‘I can't go into a pub.'

‘Why not?'

‘Well, my mother will kill me for starters. She hates those places. Besides, children aren't allowed in, are they?'

‘I'm thirteen next month,' laughed Kelly. ‘Hardly a child, and neither are you. Anyway, we aren't buying drinks. We just want to ask a few questions, see who's in there. Surely we can do that.'

She waited for Ben to reply, but could see that he wasn't convinced.

‘Oh, you can wait outside, then!' she said impatiently. ‘At least I'm going to try.'

Wilmcote had two pubs. The biggest and usually the busiest was the Mary Arden Inn, which was popular with tourists. Kelly aimed for the smaller pub, the Mason's Arms, which was more popular with the locals. She had been in there with Mum and Dad and her brother for a Sunday lunch a couple of times. They did the biggest Yorkshire puddings Kelly had ever seen.

There was a public footpath across the fields which came out into the centre of the village along the back of the Mason's Arms garden, and a gap in the hedge where you could get through. It took a good half hour for the two friends to get there, and by the time they reached the gap in the hedge, Ben had fallen quite a way back. Kelly waited for him to catch up.

‘What's wrong with you?' she scoffed, when he slouched through the hedge and flopped down on a bench tucked away at the end of the pub garden. ‘You can't be that tired, surely?'

‘I walked nearly all the way to yours. Anyway, you might as well have gone ahead and gone inside. I'm not coming in.'

‘Oh, Ben! Your mum doesn't need to know. You really can be a baby sometimes.'

Ben simply shrugged.

Kelly rolled her eyes. ‘Oh well, it looks like it's Kelly Hearn or nothing. If you're staying here, you might as well make yourself useful. Look after the dog.' She tied Tyson's lead to the leg of the bench and, without another word, strode round the corner and up the path towards the rear entrance of the pub.

Inside, the Mason's Arms was dimly lit but welcomingly warm. A log fire crackled in the grate on the far side of the room and huddled around it were a few old local chaps enjoying a pint. Besides them there were two couples having a pub lunch, but apart from that it was fairly quiet.

Nervously, Kelly approached the bar. She recognised the landlord, put on her best smile and nodded a greeting to him.

‘Can I help you, young lady?' he asked, his expression not matching the welcoming ambience of his pub.

‘I'm not sure,' Kelly stammered.

‘Then maybe you'd better come back with your parents, hey? I can't serve kids, you know. And I'm not giving out any free glasses of water either.'

‘No, I mean, I don't want to buy anything. I'm looking for someone. I was hoping you might be able to help.'

‘Oh aye,' remarked the landlord, dubiously.

‘I'm working on a school project, about the history of Wilmcote, and I need to find some local people who have lived here a long time. Ideally, people with relatives who have lived here since the Victorian times. When the quarry was open.'

‘Look, love, we might be called the Mason's Arms, but that doesn't make me an expert on the quarry.'

‘I know. But I thought perhaps you would know someone who might be.'

The landlord sighed and rolled his eyes.
Grumpy old fart
, thought Kelly, convinced he was about to send her packing. But then he gestured to an old man sitting in the corner, in the alcove next to the fire, nursing his pint.

‘I suppose you could ask old Jim. His family have been here for ever. I think his great granddad used to work the quarry. But you'll need to be quick. And you'll have to speak up. He's as deaf as a post.'

‘Perfect!' exclaimed Kelly. ‘I don't mean perfect that he's deaf.'

The landlord smirked.

‘Oh, you know what I mean. Thank you. I'm really grateful.'

Kelly crossed the bar, feeling very uncomfortable. She felt as though everyone was staring at her. She wished Ben had come too.