The Drowned Village

At the next junction, there was a small road leading off to the right, signposted ‘Brackendale House Museum’. ‘Ooh, I wonder what’s there?’ Laura said.

‘Don’t know. Perhaps some local history? Sounds like it could be worth a visit.’

Laura was silent for a moment, debating with herself whether to ask him if he’d like to go there, in the next day or two, with her. If she did, how would he respond? Would he consider it just a friendly request to follow up on their shared interest in the drowned village, or would he read more into it? She liked Tom. She’d only known him an hour or so, but she felt comfortable in his company and already she was beginning to feel she knew him. They’d clicked, somehow. As an experiment, she made a mental comparison of Tom with Stuart. He was kind – the way he’d treated her when she felt dizzy was testament to that. Stuart would have scoffed and told her to ‘man up’. Tom was interested in some of the same things as her – history, mountains – whereas Stuart was more into video games and nightclubs. Tom was tall, broad-shouldered, strongly built, with soft grey eyes that crinkled when he smiled. Stuart was good-looking, sure, but in a cold, chiselled way. His eyes were dark and brooding, and his smiles did not always reach them. But however nice Tom was, Laura knew she was not ready for any kind of new relationship yet, and she’d hate him to think she was interested in him.

The moment passed, and she realised it was too late to sound spontaneous if she asked Tom if he’d like to go to the museum with her. She felt a pang of regret. She shouldn’t have been overthinking things. The rest of the journey passed more or less in silence, with each of them making only a few comments about the scenery they passed through.

Back at the campsite, Tom dropped Laura off beside the shop, with a cheery ‘See you later, drink more water!’ as she needed to buy something for the next day’s breakfast. She did not see where he drove off to.

She spent the rest of the afternoon resting and rehydrating, paddling in the stream, lying in the shade of the oak with a book. Bliss. She decided to go to the pub for an evening meal rather than cook again on her little gas stove, so just before darkness fell she stuffed her purse into a pocket, closed up her tent, and walked across the campsite and down the lane the short distance to the pub. It was a converted farmhouse, with a few rooms used for B&B, and a side extension that was open as a café in the daytime. The bar itself was in a low-ceilinged, stone-flagged room, with an assortment of small wooden tables and chairs dotted around. A large fireplace suggested it would be delightfully cosy in the winter months. A sign over the door announced that walkers and dogs were welcome, no need to remove muddy boots. She grinned at this. Her kind of pub, and the last place she could imagine Stuart fitting in.

She ordered a pint of the local bitter and a dinner of pie and chips, and noted the WiFi network name and password that was written on a note pinned above the till. Free WiFi. Perfect. She found a small table tucked in a corner, pulled out her phone, connected to the internet and began searching for information about Brackendale Green, the dam and the Old Corpse Road. Now that she’d seen it, it was all so much more exciting and interesting.

She was so absorbed in reading the web pages she’d found that she didn’t immediately notice Tom sit down next to her. ‘Room for a little one?’ he said.

She looked up and smiled. ‘Of course. Can I get you a drink? As a thank-you for looking after me today.’

‘Later, perhaps. I’m all right at the moment.’ He held up a nearly-full pint. ‘Are you eating? I can recommend the pies here. I’ve ordered one myself.’

‘That’s exactly what I’ve ordered, too. Want to look at the pictures of Brackendale I’ve found?’ She passed him her phone, and he peered at the images she’d been scrolling through. ‘Having been there brings it all to life, doesn’t it?’

‘Certainly does.’

Their food soon arrived, and after eating they resumed searching websites and exchanging the titbits of information they’d found.

‘Hey, here’s the website for Brackendale House Museum,’ Tom said, handing his phone over to her.

‘Oh yes, that place we passed,’ Laura replied. ‘I definitely want to visit that.’

‘Me too,’ Tom said. ‘I want to go up Bracken Fell tomorrow, but maybe we could do the museum the day after? Actually, do you fancy climbing the mountain with me as well?’

‘If you’re sure. I mean, I don’t want you to change your plans for me,’ Laura said, allowing a tone of wariness into her voice. It wouldn’t do to let him think she was available. She’d need to make it clear she wasn’t interested.

‘Well, I’m definitely going, and it’d be good to have some company,’ Tom replied.

‘Well then, why not?’ Laura smiled and Tom grinned back.

Chapter 6

JED

Thankfully, John Teesdale had decided to remain loyal to his long-term, village customers and had sent a message to the dam-works to say that their workmen were no longer welcome in his pub. Jed was able to go for a drink once or twice a week without fear of running into the man whose lip he had split.

It was harder, however, to steer clear of Maggie, but since that night she seemed to have cooled off towards him. Jed hoped that meant she had got the message, and would leave him in peace now. She was undoubtedly an attractive woman, but he was not interested. Not now, and probably not ever. There was enough for him to worry about without the added complication of a woman.

‘Heard the latest?’ John Teesdale said, as he poured Jed’s pint of bitter. ‘They’re going to move all the graves. Everyone in St Isidore’s churchyard – they’re going to dig them up and rebury them in Glydesdale. Well, I suppose better that than have them under twenty feet of water.’

‘My Edie will be reunited with her parents, then.’ Jed nodded. It was a macabre thought – that all those graves would be exhumed – but it was the right thing. People would still want to be able to pay their respects at the graves of their loved ones, and once the valley was flooded that would no longer be possible if they were left in St Isidore’s. He was glad that Edie herself was already over in Glydesdale, and would not have to be disturbed.

‘Aye. Though they’ll put the folk from St Isidore’s in a new part of the Glydesdale churchyard. Bishop’s been up to consecrate an extra field – they’ll need a lot of room.’ Teesdale handed Jed his pint, and took payment for it.

‘Any idea when they’re going to start?’ Jed asked.

‘This week, as I understand it. There’s a notice gone up on the church door. It’ll all be done under a tarpaulin, behind screens. Each set of remains will go into a new coffin and there’ll be a hearse waiting to drive them around to Glydesdale where they’ll be reburied.’ Teesdale leaned on the bar, and shook his head. ‘There’s a schedule up telling you which graves will be dug up on which day. It’s to be my ma and pa’s grave on Wednesday. I’ll have to shut up shop here, and be standing by. They don’t want you watching, but you’re allowed to stand behind the screens, and go with the new coffin to Glydesdale, see it’s all done properly.’

‘I’d better go and read that notice, then,’ Jed said. He hadn’t been to church much lately. Not since Edie had died. But his mother was in St Isidore’s churchyard, and perhaps he should be at hand when her grave was exhumed. Perhaps he should bring Isaac along, too. Teesdale had turned away to serve another customer, so Jed took his pint to a seat near the window that faced up the lane towards the church, and contemplated what was happening to the village. If it was time to start moving the dead out, it wouldn’t be much longer before it was time to move the living.

Teesdale passed by, collecting empty glasses, and sighed. ‘Ah, ’tis all changing. Nowt’ll ever be the same again, once we’re all spread to the four winds. You found somewhere to go yet, Jed?’

He shook his head. Why did people keep asking him that? The future was hanging over him like a sword suspended by a thread. It terrified him just to contemplate it. But soon he’d have to do something about it, he knew. ‘Not yet, John, not yet.’

‘Time’s running out. Don’t leave it too long. Reckon this village’ll be a sad place for the last few to leave. That’ll no doubt be me and the missus, any road.’

‘Aye.’ Jed tried to imagine the houses standing empty, but it was a painful image and not one he could dwell on. He made a decision. He’d buy the Westmorland Gazette and start looking for work and accommodation. Tomorrow he’d do it. Or the day after.

Jed finished his pint and decided to call in on his father before going home. The children would be all right – Jessie had been fast asleep before he’d even left, and Stella had been reading in her bed, promising to snuggle down to sleep when it became too dark. The thought of his ma’s grave being exhumed was preying on his mind, and the sooner he told Isaac the better. He walked quickly to the far end of the village and pushed open the door to Isaac’s little cottage.

‘Pa?’ he called as he entered. It was only around nine o’clock but the old man had already got himself into bed.

‘That you, Jed? I were almost asleep.’

‘Sorry, Pa.’ He walked through to the back room and sat on the end of the bed. ‘Something I need to talk to you about. But if you want to sleep, I’ll come back tomorrow.’

‘No, lad, now’s as good a time as any. Put the kettle on first, though.’ Isaac shuffled himself into a sitting position, and lit the paraffin lamp beside his bed. His was one of several small cottages in the village that did not have electricity. There was no mains electricity at all but the larger buildings all ran their own generators.

Jed went back through to the kitchen and popped the already half-full kettle on the stove. He cleared up the remains of Isaac’s dinner, washing the plates and cutlery he’d used, while he waited for the kettle to boil. The place was filthy, he realised; even in the gloomy light of the paraffin lamp he could see the thick dirt. He’d have to find some time to come up here and do some cleaning. Isaac clearly wasn’t coping.

With the tea made, and poured into two chipped enamel mugs, Jed took them through to the bedroom and handed one to his father.

‘Cheers, lad. Now, what was it worth disturbing my sleep for? Your little Jessie all right, is she? Who’s looking after her?’

‘She’s at home with Stella,’ Jed replied. ‘Pa, it’s about Ma. Her grave.’

‘What about it? Need tending, does it? I used to keep that graveyard so tidy, back in the day. ’Spect it’s gone to rack and ruin now.’

‘No, Pa. Something else.’ Jed took a deep breath. ‘They’re exhuming the graves. Going to move them all to Glydesdale. It starts next week, John Teesdale says. There’s a schedule, so I’ll call in to the church tomorrow and find out when Ma’s will be done. I’ll take you, if you want to be there.’

‘Exhuming? You mean, digging up?’ Isaac caught hold of Jed’s arm in a tight grip.

‘Aye. But it’ll all be done properly – behind screens, with dignity. They’re to be reburied in Glydesdale in smart new coffins. We can be there for Ma, go with her to Glydesdale and see it’s done properly.’ Jed looked at his father and frowned. Isaac was white and shaking. ‘What is it, Pa? What’s wrong? It’ll be hard, seeing Ma’s grave disturbed, but it’ll mean we can still visit . . .’

But Isaac was shaking his head. ‘They can’t dig them up. They can’t. ’S’not right. I’ll not dig it up again.’ Isaac thumped the mattress defiantly.

Jed remembered that Isaac had once been the gravedigger at St Isidore’s, long ago, before Jed had even been born. Perhaps it was that he was referring to? All his hard work to bury the poor souls, all to be undone.

He patted his father’s arm. ‘Aye, I know, Pa. All your work. You did a good job back then, but now it’s someone else’s turn to do the digging. You won’t have to.’

Isaac was still shaking his head, and screwing up the corners of his bedcovers in his hands. ‘It’ll all be bad, all be uncovered. And at my time of life and all. ’S’not right, ’s’not fair.’

‘It’ll be hard for all of us who’ve loved ones in that graveyard. But it’s for the best, you’ll see. Come on now, Pa. Drink your tea. Stop fretting. If you think it’ll be too hard to see Ma’s grave dug up, I’ll go by myself. You don’t need to if you don’t want to.’

‘’S’not fair, after all these years,’ Isaac muttered.

‘Shh, now. Drink your tea.’ So this was it. Jed had always worried that his father might lose his mind, and here it was happening, far too quickly. There was no putting it off any longer. Pa would have to move in with him and the girls, as soon as possible, so Jed could keep an eye on him. How Jed would cope he had no idea, but Isaac was his father and it was his duty to care for him.

Jed’s mother’s grave was exhumed on a grey, drizzly morning just a few days later, with Jed in attendance, a protesting Jessie on reins at his side. Stella was at school. Jed had decided it was best if Isaac didn’t attend the exhumation and had not mentioned it again. His Pa seemed to have withdrawn into himself, and kept muttering about not wanting the graves dug up, and it being unfair. Who knew what he was saying. It must be something related to his time as a gravedigger, Jed thought.

It was a solemn and strangely surreal moment – although Jessie didn’t give the occasion the respect it deserved, choosing that moment to fling herself to the ground, covering herself with mud and throwing a full-blown tantrum when Jed scolded her – to see the new, plain casket that contained his mother’s remains brought out from behind the screens and loaded into the hearse. Jed followed behind, in a black car paid for by the water company and driven by a uniformed chauffeur, with Jessie on his lap. It was the second time he’d been driven this route by a chauffeur, he thought, remembering the journey back from Edie’s funeral in Mrs Pendleton’s motorcar. A different daughter accompanied him this time.

At Glydesdale Church, the reburial was quick and no-nonsense, with the vicar saying a few simple prayers as the coffin was lowered into the newly dug grave. Afterwards, Jed took Jessie to visit Edie’s grave, in the older graveyard beside the church. He pulled up some weeds from around the headstone and laid a bunch of bluebells beside it.

‘Look, Jessie. Mama’s there,’ he said.

The child stared at the gravestone and shrugged. ‘Mama gone to heaven,’ she said, parroting the words Jed and Stella had used to explain her mother’s absence. She ran off to hide behind another gravestone, giggling. Jed sighed. So soon after Edie’s death and it seemed that already Jessie was forgetting her. He supposed that in time, she’d forget her completely. But he couldn’t help but smile too. That giggle of Jessie’s was an infectious sound that always gladdened his heart. So much better to hear than the tantrums she’d had earlier in Brackendale!

‘What a simply adorable child. Is she yours, Mr Walker?’

Jed stood, startled by the voice, and found himself once more facing Alexandria Pendleton. He removed his cap. ‘Yes, ma’am. She’s my youngest. Jessie, come here. This isn’t a place for playing.’

In response, Jessie just giggled again and climbed upon a full-length tomb, which to Jed’s horror bore the name Pendleton on the side.

‘Jessie, get down off there! It isn’t for playing on. Ma’am, I apologise. She’s not quite three years old and knows no better.’

But Mrs Pendleton was smiling, and waved her hand dismissively. ‘It’s perfectly all right. A child of that age does not understand death, and she’s within her rights to play when she gets the chance to.’

‘Thank you, ma’am,’ Jed replied.

‘Are you here to pay your respects to Edie?’ Mrs Pendleton asked. ‘It’s a long way to come, especially with your little one.’ She was still watching Jessie play.

‘Yes, but also to see my ma’s remains reinterred,’ Jed replied. ‘They’re moving all the graves from Brackendale Green to here, before the valley is flooded.’

Mrs Pendleton nodded. ‘Ah, yes. I was part of the church committee, agreeing to have the graves moved here. I’ve been here today to oversee the process. I am sorry one of them is your mother’s. It must be very difficult for you.’

‘Aye, but if she’s here along with Edie I can visit them both together.’ Jed realised that throughout their conversation, Mrs Pendleton had not taken her eyes off Jessie once. He squirmed a little. The child’s coat was covered with mud from having rolled on the ground at St Isidore’s. ‘Jessie, come here and say hello to the lady.’

The little girl for once did as she was told and skipped over, slipping her hand into her father’s. ‘Hello, lady,’ she said.

‘Hello to you too, little miss,’ Mrs Pendleton said, crouching down to speak to Jessie at her own level. ‘What a pretty child you are.’

Jessie’s response was just to giggle and run away again, leaving Mrs Pendleton smiling indulgently after her. ‘What a lovely sound a child’s laughter is,’ she said, almost in a whisper.

There was a gentle beep on a car’s horn, and Jed realised it was the black car, ready to return to Brackendale Green. The hearse had already made its return journey. The schedule was for four exhumations and reburials each day, and it was time they went back, or he’d be left with no lift.

‘Beg pardon, ma’am, but we must go now, the motorcar’s waiting.’

She nodded, still watching Jessie, as he fetched the child and took her back to the car. There was something odd about her gaze. It was full of longing, and something else he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Perhaps she was simply disapproving of Jessie’s muddy clothes. He held Jessie tightly in the car on the way back to Brackendale. She was a handful, but such a precious little thing.

It was two days later that the discovery was made. The exhumations were about a quarter done, when the gravediggers reached the not-quite-final resting place of Martha Atkins. There was quite a crowd waiting behind the screens for Martha’s remains to be brought out and loaded into the hearse, for she had been the grandmother of Maggie Earnshaw, and mother of Janie Earnshaw and also of Janie’s simpleton sister, Susie. All were standing solemnly waiting for the moment when the new casket would be carried out from behind the screen. Even Susie was to go with them to Glydesdale – Martha was her mother too, Janie had said, and besides, there was no one else available to keep an eye on her.

Jed passed by with Jessie as they stood waiting, and although Maggie glared at him he felt he should stop and pay his respects. He knew how emotional an occasion it was. Stella was at school and Jessie was, for once, behaving herself, so he decided to wait a while until the hearse left.

‘How do, Janie. Hello, Susie,’ he said, and nodded at Maggie who turned her face away. ‘It’s not easy, is it, this?’

‘No. But it’s got to be done,’ Janie replied. ‘I’m glad for you that Edie did not have to be moved.’

‘They’re moving Ma,’ Susie said, her round face gazing up at him, her eyes sad and worried.

‘They are, Susie, lass, you’re right.’ She was looking old these days, and indeed must be well past fifty, though he always thought of her as a child. He always had done, even though she was a generation older than him. She had that simple, childlike face and way of speaking. Even now, she was holding Janie’s hand, and shuffling her feet in the dirt.

‘Don’t want them to move her,’ she said, pushing her bottom lip outwards.

‘They have to, Susie. I told you, it’s so we’ll still be able to visit her, even after the village is gone,’ Janie told her sister gently.

‘Don’t want the village to go,’ Susie replied.

‘Oh no, please don’t let her start a tantrum, not now,’ Janie whispered, raising her eyes to the heavens.

Jed thought quickly, trying to come up with something to distract Susie, but Maggie was quicker. ‘Don’t worry, Aunty Susie. Remember what I told you about the cake we’re going to make for tea? With jam inside, and buttercream as well, and you can sprinkle the icing sugar on the top.’

‘And the first slice for me?’ Susie said, raising her round eyes to Maggie’s.

‘Of course. And we are going to do this as soon as we get back from moving your ma.’

Susie looked conflicted for a moment, as though deciding whether to protest against the moving of her mother, or continue to be happy about the prospect of cake for tea. But as Jed had seen so many times before, her natural happy nature won out and she smiled broadly. ‘We’re having cake for tea,’ she announced.

‘Cake for me too?’ asked Jessie, slipping her small hand into Susie’s chubby one.

‘If you like,’ Susie said, beaming down at Jessie, and the crisis was over.

There was some commotion going on behind the screens. Janie frowned. ‘What are they shouting about now?’

‘I’ll look,’ Jed said, and he pushed through a gap in the screens, leaving Jessie still holding Susie’s hand. He expected to be told to get back, but the three men – two gravediggers and an overseer – were all crouched on the ground, peering at something they’d dug up. The new coffin stood empty beside them – they had not yet dug deep enough to reach Martha’s remains. ‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘Something odd in the grave,’ the overseer said. ‘We weren’t expecting this.’

‘Course we weren’t,’ one of the gravediggers said. ‘How could we be expecting to dig up treasure? Ay-up, is it finders, keepers?’

‘No, it is not. We’ll have to inform the police. This looks very valuable, and it’s probably no accident that it’s in the grave.’

‘Maybe the relatives know something?’ the gravedigger said.

‘They’re standing just back, behind the screens,’ Jed said. ‘What have you found?’

The overseer stood up and took a step back, gesturing at a dirty package on the ground. Jed moved forward for a better look and gasped. Wrapped in oilcloth was an old tin box, and spilling out of that was a fistful of jewellery, gold, rubies, diamonds, necklaces, earrings, bracelets – all jumbled together. ‘Is it real? Or paste?’

‘Looks real to me, but that’s to be discovered, I suppose. So, let’s ask the relatives if they have any idea about this.’ The overseer stepped out from behind the screens, holding the tarpaulin bundle. ‘Ladies, sorry to intrude, but, ahem, this was found in the grave, on top of the coffin. Does anyone recognise it? Looks too valuable to stay buried in the ground.’

Jed watched as Janie and Maggie stepped forward to look. Both women gasped as they saw what was wrapped inside the tarpaulin. Susie hung back a little, her mouth open and her eyes wide.

‘No, sir, never seen that before. What’s it doing in my mother’s grave? She never had anything like that – I’d know if she had,’ Janie said, her hand over her mouth.

Maggie glared at her, and gave her a little kick as if to shut her up. She wanted to lie and say the jewels were her grandmother’s so they could keep them, Jed realised, but it was too late – Janie had told the truth.

‘I seen it before,’ Susie said quietly. Then, louder, ‘I seen that bundle.’

‘What? What are you talking about, Susie?’ Janie said. ‘How can you have seen it?’

‘When Ma were put in the hole. I seen it then.’

‘Don’t be daft, Susie, love. You weren’t at Ma’s funeral. Old Mrs Eastbrook looked after you, as Pa didn’t think you’d cope with it all.’

Susie was shaking her head. ‘It were later.’ She bit her lip, in a gesture that Jed knew meant she was scared she would get in trouble for what she was about to say.

‘Later?’ Janie frowned at her sister. ‘Ah, you’re talking rot.’ She turned back to the overseer Mr Banks and shook her head. ‘I’m sorry. Ignore her. The jewels are nothing to do with us, sadly. I hope you can find their owner.’

‘It were his pa,’ Susie shouted. She was pointing at Jed. ‘His pa. He put them in the hole with my ma. I seen him do it. I come out the house when I were supposed to be in bed, ’cause I wanted to say bye-bye to Ma and I knew she were in the hole. It were dark. I hid over there.’ She pointed to a large yew tree. ‘He never seen me but I seen him, and he dropped that in the hole with Ma and then spaded in the soil on top. I seen him. I seen it all.’