Silent as the Grave (11 page)

To my surprise, Eve was more inclined to believe in the existence than I'd imagined. ‘I wouldn't set much store by the fact that none of the family has seen it,' she told me. ‘None of them are what you'd call voracious readers, with the exception of Becky. Tony restricts himself to the
Shooting Times
,
Field and Stream
, and
Cricket Monthly
. Charlie reads football fanzines, Sammy reads sloppy teen romances, and Harriet reads sloppy adult romances. As for Charlotte, I don't think I've ever seen her with a book in her hand, and to the best of my knowledge Tony's father had the same reading habits as Tony.'

‘So the library doesn't get used much?'

‘Hardly.' Eve's tone was amused. ‘In fact, Tony wanted to have it converted to a rumpus room for the kids a few years back but Harriet put her foot down. Not because of the priceless books in there; although there are quite a few of those. Harriet was more concerned about the exquisite bookshelves and furniture that Tony wanted to get rid of. She said it would spoil the ambience; whatever that means.'

‘In that case I reckon we ought to have a look round the library first.'

Eve groaned. ‘I think I've just talked myself into another job, haven't I?'

As we were debating the merits of an early start to our treasure hunt in the library Tony ambled in. ‘We're organizing a sledging expedition, we're all going up to the old quarry. There's a good slope there. We thought it might help to take everybody's mind of what happened to poor Beaumont. Would you care to join us?'

I explained our plans for the afternoon. ‘I think it's important for me to try and start looking for a solution to the problem you set me. Normally I'd have loved to go along. There's also Eve's injured leg to think of. She wouldn't be able to go and it wouldn't be much fun for her stuck here alone.'

‘No I suppose not. I'd forgotten about that,' Tony conceded. He thought for a moment, then added, ‘I don't suppose you'd want to be bothered by Sammy in the circumstances, would you? The poor girl's sick as anything at missing out but her throat's worse, and Harriet's banned her from going. Thinks the cold air would be bad for her. But of course if you want to be alone, we could leave Sammy watching TV or something.'

I dare not look at Eve; I was trying too hard not to laugh and knew I'd never keep a straight face if I saw her expression. ‘Tony,' I said eventually, ‘I said Eve and I were going to search the library; nothing else. If Sammy's bored and on her own, she'd be more than welcome to help. There's a massive task ahead of us and the more help we get the better. There is one favour you could do for us though.'

‘Of course, what is it?'

‘Loan us your chair.' I pointed to the one behind the desk. ‘It has castors on, and it would be great for Eve. She can't go climbing up and down those library steps, so if she and Sammy take the lower shelves I'll do the upper ones. If she has a chair with castors it'll help no end.'

‘I'll get Rathbone to bring it through for you.' He ambled out.

I looked across the room at Eve; she was struggling with her laughter. ‘I think Tony suspected we'd be having it off in the library,' she suggested.

‘Damn, another plan foiled,' I said.

Sammy joined us only seconds after Rathbone had wheeled Eve's chair in to the library. ‘Hello,' she whispered in a sort of croak. It was easy to see why Harriet had insisted she remain indoors. She looked flushed and there seemed little doubt she was running a temperature.

‘OK, girls, we're looking for an old book,' – I looked at the long shelves that ran along three walls of the room – ‘and it seems we have a few to choose from.'

Every shelf was crammed with books; the shelves stretched from floor to ceiling. The only breaks were for the door and fireplace. It was a daunting prospect. I didn't even want to speculate on the total number of volumes in that room. ‘As I see it, we have two problems. One, we don't know if the book has a title or not, and even if it does the title may bear no resemblance to the contents. Two, we don't know what size or shape the book we're searching for is. Therefore, we have to take every book from the shelf, examine it, and put it back. The one we want will be about Mulgrave Castle and the Rowe family. Eve, whereabouts do you want to start?'

‘To be honest I'm not sure I want to start at all,' she said with mock despair, ‘but if we have to, why don't Sammy and I take one of the shorter walls each and you concentrate on the long wall. Then when we've finished on the lower shelves we can switch places with you.'

We had been at work a couple of hours when Rathbone entered bearing a large tray. In addition to a coffee pot and a mug of hot chocolate, Sammy's favourite, the tray contained a plate each of sandwiches and chocolate biscuits. ‘With Lady Harriet's compliments,' Rathbone announced in pompous tones. He set the tray on the reading table and departed.

‘Leave the last book you examined on its side on the shelf, Sammy,' Eve suggested, ‘that way you'll know exactly where to start afterwards.'

Shortly before three o'clock, I decided enough was enough. I moved the last book I'd examined onto its side. It was a weighty seventeenth-century tome on astronomy. I doubted whether it had been opened since the day of its purchase. As I moved it, a smaller, much slimmer volume slipped from the shelf alongside and dropped onto the floor. I muttered a mild oath and climbed down. I picked it up and glanced at the cover. I whistled silently in surprise as I read
A History of Mulgrave Castle by Miles Rowe
. ‘OK, folks, let's call it a day,' I suggested.

My colleagues needed no prompting. Eve swivelled round on her chair. ‘I never realized a library could be such a filthy place,' she said inspecting her hands. ‘I'm going to need a long hot shower after this. How about you?'

‘I consider that a very generous offer,' I replied.

I ducked and narrowly avoided being hit by a low-flying copy of Chaucer's
Canterbury Tales
.

‘What's that you've found?' Eve pointed to the book in my hand.

I showed her. ‘I think we should have a look at it before dinner,' I suggested. ‘The rest of the family should be back any time now.'

It was at that point that Tony burst into the library. ‘Adam, we need your help,' his voice was high with worry bordering on panic. ‘There's been an accident. It's Charlie. He's fallen down the cliff. I think his leg's broken. We can't get to him and it'll be dark soon.'

‘OK,' I said, ‘Tony, you take me to the spot. Eve, find Marsh. Tell him I want every inch of rope he can find and I want him out there as fast as possible. Tell him to bring every torch he can.'

Tony and I reached the quarry fifteen minutes later. The family was gathered round the cliff face, their expressions ranging from distraught to despondent. Harriet was being comforted by Polly. It seemed they'd been using the gentler slope away from the quarry. I strode past them and looked over the edge. The light was fading rapidly. We were running out of time. Tony pointed and I saw Charlie. He was in a precarious position on a ledge two-thirds of the way down the cliff. ‘Charlie,' I called out. ‘Can you move?'

‘I'm scared,' he called back. His voice confirmed that.

‘I'm not bloody surprised. Free fall is usually better with a parachute.' I tried to keep it light. ‘Try and move your arms. I need to know if they're OK.'

I waited; then heard, ‘I can move them.'

‘Good lad, do you have any pain in your chest or back?'

‘Everything feels sore,' he complained.

‘Don't worry about that, as long as it's no worse than sore. Can you move your head and neck?'

‘Yes, it's just my leg. That hurts all the time.'

‘OK, as long as that's all. Now just lie still for a minute or two then we'll start work on getting you out of there, OK?'

‘Please.' The cry was heart-rending.

Marsh came panting up the slope. ‘I've got the spare bell rope from the chapel and a length of chain as well.'

I uncoiled the rope and flung one end of it over the cliff. I was relieved to see it reached Charlie, comfortably. I looked round for an anchorage. A sturdy looking oak tree was growing only a dozen or so yards away. ‘Wrap that chain round the tree,' I told Marsh, ‘and make certain it's secure. Then tie the rope to it and let me know when you've done it.'

‘Charlie, I'll be down with you in a few minutes then we can get you out of there, don't worry.'

I signalled to Tony, his cousins and Marsh. ‘When I call out, I want you four to haul the boy up, really gently. You're working against time – it'll be pitch black soon. As soon as you get him up here, get him onto a toboggan and take him back to the castle. Don't wait about for me. Leave Marsh to throw the rope down to me. Got that?'

They nodded. ‘Right, here's hoping,' I wound the rope round my waist and under my arm, stuffed the torch Marsh had handed me into my pocket. Harriet was standing close by. I reached out and pulled her scarf from round her neck before I eased myself over the cliff edge. ‘Pay it out slowly, Frank,' I told Marsh.

I hadn't abseiled in years, but the skill soon returned and within a couple of minutes I joined Charlie on his ledge. ‘Hi there, Charlie,' I greeted him. ‘Relax now. We'll soon have you out of here. I'm going to fashion a harness to go under your arms. All you have to do is hold onto the ropes. Your Dad and the others at the top will haul you up. I'm going to tie your legs together with scarves to try and keep them straight. Try to remain as still as possible. The more you move or swing about the more pain you'll cause yourself, OK?'

‘Yes, Adam,' he said through gritted teeth.

‘What exactly happened?' I asked casually as I began knotting the rope.

He remained silent. I looked across at him and saw his lips were pressed tightly together as if he was in pain. ‘Are you OK?'

‘Yes,' he said easily enough. So that wasn't the problem.

‘You were going to tell me what happened,' I prompted.

‘I was waiting my turn on the sledge when I saw a peregrine falcon hovering over the quarry. I turned to watch it. I was standing near the edge,' he paused.

‘What happened, did you slip?'

He looked at me and the anguish in his eyes had little to do with the pain from his leg, ‘No,' he told me reluctantly, ‘I didn't slip. Someone pushed me.'

I nearly dropped the rope, so great was my astonishment. ‘Are you absolutely sure about that, Charlie? You didn't simply tumble and imagine the rest?'

‘No, Adam,' his voice was steady now. ‘Someone put both hands on my back and pushed me.'

‘Did you see who it was?'

He shook his head. ‘Can you remember who was near you at the time?'

‘Everybody I think, apart from Becky. She'd just set off down the slope on the sledge.'

I needed a moment or two to think about this. ‘Right, I'm going to put this rope over your shoulders and under your arms. Do you think you can sit up if I help you?' I put the rope in place and tightened the noose. ‘That won't let you down, so you don't have to worry about it. Now listen carefully. I don't want you to say a word about what happened to you. Not even to your Mum and Dad. Whoever did this will be expecting you to say something. If you don't, they'll be wondering why. I'll see you back at the castle later. Don't forget.'

‘I won't.'

‘Good lad; now get ready.' I turned to look upwards and raised my voice. ‘OK, up there: start pulling.'

‘OK, Adam,' I heard Tony answer.

Slowly, foot by foot, I watched the boy being hauled towards the top of the cliff. The sunshine had long since disappeared and there was a universal greyness to the last remaining light. Charlie's form disappeared into the gloom and I knew that when it came to my turn I would be climbing in total darkness. I felt something soft brush against my cheek. It had started to snow again.

After what seemed an age I heard Tony's voice; relief in every syllable. ‘Adam, we've got him. He's safe. We're going to load him on the toboggan. As soon as we've got him on that, Marsh will throw the rope down for you. OK?'

‘That'll be fine, Tony.'

It was a few minutes later when I heard a swishing sound that told me Marsh had thrown the rope down. A split second later I felt it hit my arm. I grabbed it and slipped the harness over my shoulder. I wanted to be out of the quarry as quickly as possible. I'm a good enough hand at rope-climbing but in the dark with snow falling, I wasn't relishing the challenge much. ‘OK, Frank, I'm starting to climb now,' I called out. There was no response from above.

I began my ascent, hand over hand. I'd got no more than twenty feet when I suddenly felt the rope above me go slack. Then I was falling; sheer down the cliff face. I felt a buffet on my leg as I hit the ledge that saved Charlie. It didn't save me. It was the snow in the foot of the quarry that saved me; that and luck. I didn't appreciate the luck much at the time.

I hit the snowdrift and the breath exploded from my lungs as I was winded by the impact. Then my head hit something hard and I passed out.

Chapter Ten

I'm not sure how long I was unconscious. Not too long, I reckoned, because I'd not lost any body heat. I tried movement; slowly. My legs first, they felt OK. Then my arms, no problems there either. My chest and back felt sore but no worse than the rest, the shock of the impact and the winding were probably all they'd suffered. It was when I moved my head that the pain hit me. I felt as if I'd a wickedly bad hangover. I rolled cautiously onto all fours and waited for the pain to subside. It didn't. I got to my feet, moving like an arthritic eighty-year-old. I felt a bit like one too.

It was pitch black by now; what little light there had been was gone. I don't suppose the walls of the quarry helped much either. I peered around me, though quite what I expected to see, I've no idea. The pain increased but I was rewarded with the sight of a glimmer of pale yellow light a few yards away. I realized it was coming from my torch which had also survived the fall; probably better than I had. As I looked, the gleam of light from the torch became two; then three; then a whole kaleidoscope of amber reflections. I closed my eyes and shook my head to clear my vision. Mistake! Big mistake! Very, very big mistake! I waited for the pain to subside. If it did, I wasn't aware of it.

I opened my eyes again and looked cautiously towards the light. I was relieved to see only a single beam. Obviously, shaking my head had cured the problem. I still wouldn't recommend it. I moved again, this time trying to remove the harness from round my chest whilst keeping my head still. I'm a fast learner. It proved difficult and I had to pause to allow another surge of pain to pass. Its passage was dreadfully slow. I waded slowly towards my torch which was buried in about two feet of snow. Each step was an effort. I reached the torch, bent down, and plunged my hand into the drift to retrieve it. That was a double mistake. My trouser legs were already soaked by melted snow. Now I had collected more snow up the sleeve of my jacket, inside my shirt sleeve and clinging to my hand and wrist. That would soon melt and my arm too would be cold and wet. At the time I didn't appreciate the stupidity of what I'd done. I was busy trying to ignore the fresh pain in my head from bending over. I held the torch. Then I was holding two torches; then three. Then I blacked out again. I came to almost immediately. I was lying where I'd fallen and in falling I'd collected more snow that was already melting on me. As I moved I became aware that my foot was entangled in something. I groped around and my hand came in contact with the obstruction. It was the rope. I picked it up and held the torch to it. I worked a couple of feet along the rope until I reached the end of it. I'd been feeling pretty lousy already. The sight of the rope end made me feel ten times worse. The rope hadn't frayed or the knot untied. The end of the rope had been severed; cut straight and clean through with a knife.

My thoughts were chaotic. It didn't help much that I wasn't in the best shape for logical thinking in the first place. I took a deep breath. What could have happened? Well I knew what had happened, but how did it happen? Tony said he was leaving Marsh at the top of the cliff. Then the rope had been thrown down to me. I'd called out that I was going to climb up. I remembered being surprised there had been no reply. I was unwilling to believe that Frank Marsh was the killer, the idea seemed ludicrous. I went cold, or rather I went colder. I felt a sharp pang of fear for Marsh's safety.

Strangely, the knowledge that someone had attempted to kill me cleared my head; if only temporarily. I began to reason, for I knew my plight was still desperate. I might have survived the fall more or less intact, but I was trapped in a snowbound quarry in darkness. I was cold, wet, and aching and I had absolutely no idea how to escape from the hole I was in.

I glanced at my watch. 5.05 p.m. I wondered how Charlie had survived the pain of the journey back to the castle. I wondered again about what had happened to Marsh. I wondered who had cut the rope and tried to kill me. Most of all I wondered how the hell I was going to get out of that blasted quarry. It took a few moments, but eventually reason penetrated my poor aching skull and I began to think about the quarry. A quarry is a place where stone is dug out, I thought. Well, to be accurate, stone and aggregate. Once these products have been dug out they have to be transported from the quarry. Therefore the quarry had to have an exit road. I congratulated myself on the brilliance of my deduction. The only problem that remained was how to find the bloody road.

Whether or not it was from the effort of thinking but my vision went again. This time I didn't pass out but I felt an unpleasant nausea; like a severe case of seasickness. I waited for it to pass. It took its time. When I began to feel marginally better I tried thinking again. The dilemma facing me was that I had to move. I was feeling colder and wetter with every passing minute. If I didn't get some warmth soon I would be adding hypothermia to the suspected concussion I was already suffering. However, there was little point in moving for movement's sake. I needed to walk towards the exit road not away from it and how was I to find out where it was in the dark?

When Tony and I had left the castle we had walked directly towards the setting sun: due west in other words. That meant the quarry face, down which I'd fallen, was the northern rim of the quarry. I was standing in front of that face, so I was facing more or less due south. The main road ran to the south of the castle, therefore it ran to the south of the quarry. If the operators of the quarry had been logical businessmen they would have put the track leading from the quarry on the side nearest the main road. Oh great, I thought, if my reasoning was correct that meant I had to wade the full width of the quarry, in the dark, encountering God knows what obstacles and all of them obscured by the snow.

As if the thought had prompted it, bad had just become worse: the falling snow was getting heavier. I shelved the thought that I might have got my thinking wrong, that the road might be on the east or the west of the quarry. Why think that? I didn't need depressing. I was depressed enough already. It took almost an hour to find that road, an hour of wading, slipping, falling, getting colder, getting wetter, getting angrier, cursing, swearing, and threatening vengeance. My journey wasn't made any easier by the load I was carrying. The rope was evidence; evidence that might be needed in a court of law. Alternatively, I could use it to hang the bastard who'd tried to kill me; who might still succeed if I couldn't get out of that place soon.

I paused for breath before tackling the exit road; but not for long. Although the exercise had warmed me slightly I knew I was beginning to lose sensation in the extremities of my fingers and toes. I thought about frostbite. I remembered with horror some of the cases I'd seen; gangrenous and evil-smelling obscenities that had once been healthy feet and legs. I tried to summon up amnesia on that subject. It didn't work. I needed to get up this track and across to the cliff top before I could consider returning to the castle. I wondered whether the castle's inhabitants had raised the alarm yet. Surely they would be aware I'd been missing far too long. Then I remembered Charlie's injuries. If my blood didn't run cold at the thought, it was because it was already cold enough. They would be preoccupied with Charlie and caring for him. Even if they'd noticed I was missing, who was there to come to my rescue?

The thought of the cliff top reminded me of Frank. I set off to battle my way up the track. Snow had drifted across it and the going was hard in some places; close to impossible in others. Eventually, I reached a point where the road that had been a cutting levelled out and I emerged onto flat land. I had escaped the quarry. I had surmounted the track. I was warmer from the exercise. I had completed half my journey. Or, to look at it from another point of view, I still had to make my way round the rim of the quarry from the south to the north side, to the cliff top, then I had to find out what had happened to Frank, then I had to get to the castle. I was wet, I was tired, I was feeling sick, and the headache was bad again. Oh, and the snow was falling heavier still.

I was lucky in choosing the first part of my route, for there was a large, flat expanse I later discovered was a patch devoted to grassland. That made walking somewhat easier. On the downside, I was now walking directly into the snowstorm. A phrase of the weather forecasters came to mind: ‘drifting in a north-easterly wind.' The snow was being blown into my face. That raised the prospect of drifting.

I battled on and eventually reached a hedge. I looked at my watch and saw with surprise that it was 7.30 p.m.; to me it felt more like midnight. The hedge was a thorn one. It presented me with an interesting and different challenge – although those weren't the words I used at the time. I struggled through and emerged on the other side. The scratches it inflicted on every exposed part of me were a distraction from the pounding headache, sore chest, aching ribs, sore shins, sore knees, and sore temper. Not a welcome distraction; just a distraction.

The field beyond the hedge had been ploughed but not sown. That meant it was rutted, ruts I had to cross rather than walk along. More fun. I got across the field after countless more falls and prepared to do battle with another thorn hedge. It proved tougher than the first. I wondered if hedge number one had warned his colleague to be on the lookout for an attacker on the prowl. Then I realized I was becoming delirious; to imagine a conversation between intelligent hedges. I shook my head to clear it. Who said I was a fast learner? Tell him he's a liar.

I stood on the other side and regained my breath; if not my composure. I was muddy, bloody and angry. I was also wet and tired and aching from head to toe. I looked at my watch again. It was 8.15 p.m. I'd be late for dinner again, I thought, and began to giggle. I sobered up at the sound. This wouldn't do. Hysteria added to delirium added to concussion. I really wasn't feeling very well.

My sense of direction appeared to have deserted me. This didn't really surprise me as all the other senses seemed to have vanished along with it. After a few moments the snow slackened briefly and I was able to make out a darker line that I thought was in the general area of where I wanted to be. I hoped and prayed it had been in my eyesight rather than my imagination. I set off towards it, banishing the thought of falling over the cliff in the dark. Not again, I thought; once a day's quite enough.

I found the cliff edge. Then I found the oak tree. Then I found Frank Marsh. He was lying alongside the tree partially buried by the snow. I shook him gently and he groaned. That was one plus point. At least he was alive. I shone the torch on him. He was lying face down. At the base of his skull was an ugly looking egg-shaped lump. No wonder he hadn't replied when I called him.

I turned him gently on his side into the recovery position. His eyes rolled up alarmingly in their sockets; then returned to a more normal position and I could see he was regaining consciousness. ‘Marsh,' I said loudly. ‘Frank, come on, wake up.'

He stirred and groaned once more. ‘Don't try to talk yet,' I told him, although I didn't think he was about to. After I'd iced his wound with snow I helped him to his feet. The brief respite seemed to have alleviated my own problems slightly, which was as well as I knew I'd need what little strength I had left to help get Marsh back to the castle.

We reached our destination just in time to prevent a full blown row. Eve and Cathy Marsh were the protagonists on one side; ranged against them the other adults, apart from Tony, Harriet, and Charlotte, who were presumably tending Charlie.

I helped Frank along the corridor and opened the kitchen door, the room was empty. We staggered through and I opened the door into the dining hall. The bright light hit my eyeballs with searing force. I stood there supporting Marsh, both of us in a dreadful state. We must have made an impressive sight. Eve was the first to react. ‘Adam, are you injured, what happened?'

I smiled weakly. I couldn't manage anything stronger. I helped Frank into a nearby chair. ‘Sammy,' I called the youngster. I waited until she came over to me. ‘Do me a favour, love. Run upstairs and ask your mum and dad and gran to come down, please.'

Cathy Marsh was fussing over her husband. ‘He's had a nasty bang on the back of his head,' I told her, ‘he needs to be put to bed. Watch out for concussion.'

I leaned against the back of a chair. It was all right me advising other people about concussion, but my own headache was back to full power. I felt nauseous and the room was flickering as if in an old movie. ‘Evie,' I murmured. ‘Help me off with this, will you?'

I pointed to the rope. As she was uncoiling it I said, ‘Lay it down on the table, please.'

I was aware, in a detached sort of way that the others were eyeing me curiously. I didn't care. Tony and Harriet arrived, followed an instant later by Charlotte and Sammy.

‘Adam, what happened, where have you been until now?' Tony asked.

‘I've been very busy,' I told him, ‘and I've got news for you. Not just you, Tony,' – I was beginning to feel light-headed – ‘but for everyone; all except for one, that is.'

I paused and waited. Everyone waited. I'm not sure what they thought I was going to do or say. I was aware that I must look a strange sight to them, soaked through, scratched, bloody, and mud-bespattered; looking as if I'd been dragged through a hedge backwards. Well that was wrong, I'd gone through forwards. What had I been about to say? Something important. I remembered. ‘How's Charlie?' I enquired.

‘I put his leg in a splint as a precaution. I'm not sure if it's broken, it could just be badly sprained.' It was Charlotte who replied. ‘He's resting now. He seemed very concerned about you, said you had something to tell us.'

‘Yes I do. What was it though?'

I could feel Eve's arm around my waist, supporting me. I needed it. My brain cleared momentarily. ‘I said I had something to tell you. I said someone in this room already knows what I'm about to say. The person who murdered Beaumont on Christmas Eve had a day off yesterday, but they've been extra busy today. Two attempted murders and a serious assault. I'd say that was a pretty fair afternoon's work.'