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

said with a nod. ‘She does this millionaire’s shortbread that’s so sweet, I swear that after a slice of it, you can feel the sugar at the back of your eyeballs.’

‘Details then, Jim,’ Harry said. ‘And I don’t mean about your mum’s amazing baking.’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Matt. ‘Could be useful.’

‘Right,’ Jim said, brushing away a few crumbs and ignoring Matt. ‘First off, I’ve no idea what time they came, or anything like that.’ He leant forward, his elbows on the table, hands clasped together just in front of his mug. ‘I was out last night with Neil.’

‘Your old school mate, right?’ Harry asked, and Jim gave a nod.

‘Neil Hogg, or Hoggy as we call him. Not seen him in a few years. He’s been away for a good while, like, so it was good to catch up. Anyway, I was out till closing time, walked back across the fields—there’s a nice little footpath from Hawes to Burtersett—and this morning, Dad went out like usual, but not early, which isn’t like him. And he wasn’t even up when I left for work, so I should’ve known something was wrong with him then, but he doesn’t like a fuss, like I’ve said, so I didn’t think anything of it, and I suppose when he found what had happened, down in the barn–’

Harry held up a hand and said, ‘Jim, you’re running away with yourself. How’s about you slow down a bit?’

‘Am I?’ Jim asked, lifting his mug then setting it down again without taking a sip. ‘Sorry. It’s just, you know, I should’ve noticed, shouldn’t I?’

Harry watched Jim look down at his dog, Fly, and pat it on the head. ‘Your dad is usually out early then?’

‘I don’t think he’s even been in bed past six in the morning,’ Jim said. ‘Not once in his life. Thinks he’s wasted the best part of the day otherwise. When I was a kid? He would just walk into my room, pull open the curtains, heave open the window to let fresh air in, and that was that!’

‘What time does he usually get up, then?’ Jadyn asked.

‘Five, five-thirty-ish?’ Jim said.

‘Five-thirty?’ Jadyn said. ‘Who the hell gets up at five-thirty? Oh, that’s right, no one! Is he mad?’

‘No, he’s a farmer,’ Jim said.

‘Though the two are quite similar,’ Matt said.

‘True.’ Jim smiled, then explained, ‘There’s always a job to do, something that needs checking over. The sheep are out all winter, like, not up on the tops, but down in the lower fields, closer to the farm. Dad had them in the barn to give them a check over. They’ve all been tupped, and his flock is a prize winner, you see, so he’s a bit more careful than some I suppose. They’re all Swaledales. Beautiful they are. Blackfaces, the lot of them. His pride and joy. Envy of a lot of other farmers up and down dale, that’s for sure.’

‘Tupped?’ Harry asked.

‘Tups are the ones who get all the action,’ Matt said. ‘Quite the life they lead, if you ask me. Must be exhausting though.’

‘I know nowt about sheep farming,’ Harry said. ‘Or any farming for that matter.’

Matt laughed. ‘I’m keeping a tally, you know, of how many times you say nowt over the next month.’

‘Oh, are you?’ Harry said.

‘I am,’ Matt nodded. ‘And if you get to a certain number, we’ll know for sure that the dales have really got into your blood.’

‘And what’s this certain number, then?’ Harry asked.

‘Oh, well, now that would be telling, like, wouldn’t it?’

‘Back to you, Jim,’ Harry said. ‘You were, I think, giving me a very quick lesson in sheep farming. And you said something about other folk envying your dad’s flock?’

‘The ewes are the females,’ Jim explained. ‘Tups are the males we don’t castrate, instead, keeping them on to breed from. And dad’s been working on this flock of his for years now. Proper special, they are. And yes, there are a few out there who wish they had my dad’s flock. But most haven’t got the passion and drive he has to see it through, to put years into it.’

‘So, you don’t think someone out there would be jealous enough to come and have one over on your dad by taking them, do you?’

Jim laughed at this as though it was the daftest thing he had ever heard.

‘Not a chance!’ he said. ‘There’s a friendly rivalry, yes, but that’s all.’

‘So, what happens, then, to the ones you castrate?’ Harry asked, knowing the answer, but for some reason needing to hear it as well, just to make sure.

‘We eat them,’ Jim said. ‘Well, not only us, as in my mum and dad and me scoffing our way through the flock, but the general public. What did you think lamb was, then?’

‘Can’t say I’ve ever given it much thought, if I’m honest,’ Harry said. ‘Like most people, I’m sure. Anyway, back to your dad finding them gone.’

‘Like I said,’ Jim continued, ‘Dad wasn’t up when I left for work. Mum says he was feeling a bit rough and she tried to get him to take it easy, but as soon as he was up he was out. And that was around nine-thirty I think. Proper late for him, that’s for sure.’

‘And that’s when he found them gone?’ Matt asked.

‘Not right away, no,’ Jim said. ‘He likes to do things a certain way, so he does his usual walk around. Chickens first, most times, has a little chat with them and a shout at Tom.’

‘Tom?’ Jadyn asked. ‘Who’s he when he’s at home? Does your dad employ a farm labourer?’

‘The cockerel,’ Jim said.

Harry laughed hard. ‘Your dad named the cockerel Tom?’

‘After Tom Jones,’ explained Jim, ‘on account of him being so bloody loud. Though dad reckons the cockerel would give Tom a run for his money.’

Harry smiled at that.

‘After the chickens, he checks the yard,’ Jim continued, ‘and usually takes a broom with him and a bag, to sweep up a bit, pick up any rubbish that