Restless Dead (Harry Grimm Book 5) by David Gatward (english reading book TXT) 📗

up towards the primary school at the end of town. ‘I don’t think there’s anywhere I don’t know the way to around here,’ she said, pulling out onto the road. ‘Could pretty much navigate blindfolded.’

‘You and me both,’ Liz said. ‘Sometimes, I think the roads and lanes are more like my DNA than my actual DNA.’

Jen laughed as she headed them out of Hawes and past the petrol station to follow the main road out. If they kept on, past their destination, it would eventually lead them to Sedbergh and on towards the Lake District. Liz hadn’t been out that way for a good while but had a mind to head over soon. The dales had its fells, and it was where her heart belonged, but the lakes ached with another kind of beauty. Jen knew it for the ultra-marathons and other races she would often head over to take part in, but for Liz, the roads and lanes were the best in the world for anyone on a motorbike, and they drew bikers from all over. The pubs were good, too, particularly the Golden Rule in Ambleside, a pub set in its own time, stoically refusing to bow to fashion or trend.

The journey to Black Moss House wasn’t a long one, only a few miles really, but it wasn’t any less enjoyable for that. The road weaved itself between lush pastures, enclosed by drystone walls, and Liz wondered just how old the road really was, how many folk had made their way along it, transporting livestock, their families, between hill and fell and dale.

The morning’s rain had eased again, though the clouds were still heavy and grey, threatening more to come. Puddles lay on the tarmac, their still, metallic surfaces like holes to another world.

Arriving in Appersett, the village between Hawes and their destination, Jen eased off the accelerator.

‘Ex-boyfriend of mine lives here,’ she said, then pointed at a house on their left. ‘There, actually. At least he used to. Moved away.’

‘He liked you that much, then?’

Jen laughed.

‘Lots of folk do,’ Liz said. ‘Job, was it?’

‘He worked at the creamery for a while,’ Jen said. ‘But then who hasn’t at some point, right? I had a job there for a while, but the smell, I just couldn’t handle it. Worse than cigarette smoke for getting into your clothes, your hair, on your skin. Anyway, as I was saying, he used to talk about Black Moss House.’

‘Everyone talks about Black Moss House.’ Liz laughed. ‘It’s a weird place, isn’t it?’

Jen took them over the bridge and out of Appersett, the road following the River Ure on their left, the water rushing on in a tumble of white and grey, like wool tossed into a ravine.

‘Just another mile or so,’ she said. ‘You ever been? To the house, I mean?’

‘Never,’ Liz said. ‘It’s just one of those places you know about because you’ve driven past it so often. And there’s nowhere else looks quite like it, is there?’

As she was speaking, the house came into view, just up on their right, the deep grey stone of its walls just visible between some sparse woodland, which grew thicker the further back it stretched up the hill.

‘There it is, then,’ Jen said. ‘It’s certainly impressive.’

As they drove past, Liz ducked down a little to get a better view of the house through the windscreen. It was an imposing building, sat at the top of a large sloping lawn, the centre of it bowed out and flanked by two wings. Off to its left was a large gap, then another smaller house, which stood there as though shunned by its larger sibling.

‘Doesn’t exactly look cosy though, does it?’ Liz said, as Jen drove on past the house to then turn right and into a lane, which would lead them back to it.

‘Must be worth a fair bit,’ Jen said, as she rolled the car to a stop in the parking area at the back of the house. ‘So, who is it we’re seeing, then?’

Liz was about to say, when a man emerged from a large door in the rear of the house. He was tall, Jen noted, and walked not just with purpose, but with bearing, his shoulders pulled back and his chin out, a stick at his side that seemed to be no hindrance at all to his speed.

‘He’s a retired colonel,’ Liz said, unclipping her seatbelt.

‘That would explain why he’s marching towards us, then,’ Jen said.

Outside the car, the damp chill of the air sweeping in off the fell danced around them, Liz and Jen made their way over to meet the man who had put in the call.

‘Thank you for coming out,’ the man said. ‘Look, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have had my daughter call you.’

Liz stepped forwards and introduced herself. ‘And this is Police Constable Blades,’ she said. ‘You must be James Fletcher, yes?’

She knew he was in his mid-seventies, but Liz couldn’t help noticing that he was fit for his age, his face showing little in the way of the chubbiness she had noticed with some who hit retirement and then relaxed perhaps a little too much. But his eyes, now they were tired, she thought, seeing the grey shadows beneath them, like dark dunes swept up by a cold sea.

‘It’s very kind of you to come out,’ James said. ‘I’ll be honest, I’m feeling a bit daft now, having got you over, but best to be sure, isn’t it? I mean, you never know, do you? It’s why I insisted Patricia call you.’

Liz caught the raised eyebrow from Jen. ‘Can we go inside, please, Mr Fletcher?’ she said. ‘Then you can tell us exactly what it is that you saw. Okay?’

James gave a nod, and there was sorrow in it, Liz thought, and as he moved away she saw him do his best to stifle a yawn. He was limping a little as well.

‘Would you like some tea?’ James asked as they neared the house. ‘I can do