The Art of Standing Still (35 page)

‘And these plays. Letting these plays on my farm. I thought it might help. I thought it might . . . I dunno, appease God somehow. But now he's punishing me.'

‘God doesn't work like that,' Josh said. ‘It wasn't your fault. As you said, you did what you thought was best.'

‘That's right. I never meant to hurt anyone. I've never committed a crime before in my life.'

Josh's eyes grew wide. Jemma glared at him to keep quiet. She had to win his trust, get him to speak.

‘Mr Griffin, I'm sure people will be more sympathetic if they know your side of the story.'

‘I'm a stupid, weak, foolish old man.' He slapped his forehead with the heel of his hand. ‘And I deserve everything I get.'

‘Not everyone will see it like that. Do you want to tell me what happened?'

‘You have to promise me you won't put it in the papers . . . or go to the police.'

She thought of her Grandfather's words about honesty and integrity.

‘You know I can't promise that. If there's been a crime, I can't keep it quiet. It's unfair to ask me to do that. As for the
Gazette
, I promise I will get your permission before I write a word.'

A look of relief washed over him.

‘Anyway,' she continued, ‘it's not as if you could keep this quiet, even if you wanted to. The notice on the gate is a bit of a giveaway. And it's only fair to tell you that there will be a story about it in Friday's
Gazette
. My boss has already got details from the nurse at the veterinary practice, and there are photographs of you with the vet and the inspector.'

‘Thank you. Thank you for being honest with me.'

So far
,
so good. Now to get to the bottom of this.
‘So, what happened?'

He let out a deep sigh. ‘Nosy, bloody do-gooders that's what. People interfering. That half-witted hippy girl who lives on one of them boats down on the river.'

‘Skye Wortham?' Jemma was stunned. ‘What has she done?' Skye was the most innocuous person Jemma had ever met. She lived simply on her eco-friendly houseboat, ate vegan food supplemented by wild fruit from the hedgerows, and took it upon herself
to recycle what rubbish she found on the banks. Skye was a human Womble; what could Bram have against her?

‘Only gone and reported me, hasn't she?'

‘What for?'

‘Said she could smell something. Started poking around. Found some stuff in the lower field and called the vet.'

‘What kind of stuff?' asked Josh.

‘Animal remains. She jumped to conclusions and told the vet I'd had another outbreak, that I was slaughtering the animals myself and burying them. It's not true!' He put his elbows on the table and hid his face in his hands. ‘It's not true. I wouldn't do that. Apart from anything, there's no point. The government even changed the compensation system to the farmer's advantage. The irony is, I'd be better off if my herd did have foot-and-mouth.'

Jemma took his mug and poured him another cup of tea.

‘So what happened?' asked Josh.

‘Well, after the outbreak in 2001, I was just about finished. I was going to change the sign to “Hopeless Farm”. Then Alistair came to see me.'

‘Alistair Fry?' Jemma just managed to stop her jaw hitting the floor. ‘What did he want?'

‘He offered me money.'

‘What, a grant?'

‘Not exactly. Although I suppose you could call it that if you like.'

‘Could you call it a bribe?' Josh stood up. ‘Jemma, we have to go to the police.'

‘Wait,' said Jemma. ‘What did he get out of it?'

‘Well, if I agreed to sell off some of my land to a developer, for the bypass and the new industrial estate, he would make sure I had enough money to restock and start again. I still had plenty of land. It would be a smaller venture, but I would keep the farm. It seemed like a good idea at the time.'

‘But Alistair opposed the road and the business park. How could he offer you money for it?'

‘He made everyone believe he was against it. He led all the protests, made a big noise in the papers and the local media, but behind our backs the developer and some of the business owners must have been lining his pockets.'

Jemma sat open mouthed, shaking her head. ‘I can't believe it!'

Josh looked puzzled. He pulled his chair round and sat down again. ‘What has this got to do with the animal carcasses on your land?'

‘Well, it all worked fine at first. I got my money and Fry got his land, but it didn't stop there. Fry had to pull some strings to get the land redesignated. It was all greenbelt you see. No building allowed. I imagine it cost him a lot more than he was expecting to “influence” the right people. Then he started to ask me for money. Of course, I wasn't in a position to pay him so he offered to broker another deal.'

‘What, sell more land?' Jemma asked.

‘No, about that time he started to get really twitchy. He thought someone was on to him, so he had to distance himself from any dodgy stuff.'

‘I can't believe this. Fry's in it up to his neck.' Jemma took her portable tape player out of the bag. ‘Mr Griffin. This is complicated. I need to get the information straight. Please let me record it. Alistair Fry is the villain here. You can help the police. You can get him locked up.'

‘What about me? I'm in on it too. I'll be finished. If the Department of the Environment finds I've been contaminating my land, we're talking hundreds of thousands in fines. Perhaps even prison.'

‘Not necessarily. If you go to the police voluntarily, it can only reflect well on you. What Fry has done is pure evil, and you can't let him get away with it.'

Bram's shoulders sagged. ‘It can't get any worse, I suppose. Switch your machine on. Right, where was I?'

‘You were telling us about the animal remains,' Josh said.

‘There is a factory on the industrial estate, meatpackers.'

‘I know it,' said Jemma.

‘Well, there are very strict rules about disposal of animal waste, the bones, and all that. The factory usually pays to have them properly disposed of, and the local authority checks to see that it's done. As you can imagine, it's expensive, and Colin Riley, the factory owner, will do whatever he can to cut costs. Riley was one of those in on the original deal with Fry to get the new road and business park built. Fry suggested that I dispose of the carcasses. Riley paid me, and I paid Fry, to keep it anonymous.'

Jemma's head was starting to ache.

‘How did you pay him?' Josh collected their empty cups and deposited them in the sink.

‘The money came in cash, and I couldn't exactly march into his office or the council chambers and hand it over the desk. Besides, he was sure he was being watched. Riley would bring the carcasses at night. I roped off the field and built a barn. Then I got the digger down there and buried them early in the morning. It was fine at first. I dug a deep pit, covered it all up, and nobody was any the wiser. Then the deliveries became more frequent. The trouble is, there were so many of them I couldn't keep up. I buried them when and where I could, but I couldn't get them so deep and the smell began to get worse. That's when that hippie woman came nosing around. She assumed the foot-and-mouth had struck again and those were my critters I'd buried.'

‘You didn't put Skye straight?' Josh shifted in his chair.

Bram Griffin shook his head. ‘I didn't want it all coming out. I didn't expect this.'

‘What about the money?' Jemma planted her elbows on the table and looked into Bram's eyes.

‘We devised an arrangement. Riley gave me the money when he dropped off the waste. To keep it all away from the farm, Riley's factory, and the Town Hall, we found a quiet spot on the river, and I hid the money there. We started by wrapping it up and leaving it under a tree or in the long grass, but “flower child” was so hot on her rubbish clearance that I was worried she'd find it. Then I came up with the idea of hiding it in the water. I put the notes in an envelope, wrapped it all up – '

‘ – in black plastic and tied a fishing float to it to mark the spot,' Josh filled in.

‘You know about it?'

‘We found the last lot,' Josh said.

Bram stared at him for a moment without speaking. ‘Fry must be going nuts. He's supposed to have picked it up.'

‘So that was the splashing I heard.' Jemma glanced at Josh. ‘I knew it wasn't sandwiches.'

‘Sandwiches?' Bram gave her a quizzical look.

‘Just a theory,' Josh said.

A shiver ran through her. The muddy green Land Rover in the car park. Her leap into the trees. ‘Then it was you that drove at me! You tried to kill me!'

‘You were the idiot shining the torch beam in my eyes. I couldn't see a thing. I nearly hit a tree.'

‘So,' Josh said, ‘what is Alistair going to do when he finds out the police have his money?'

‘Won't be long before the police bring in Fry,' Jemma said. ‘Will you come with us if we take the tape to the police?'

‘But they'll arrest him!' Josh said.

‘Dur, yeah. That is the general idea. But don't you see, if there's no foot-and-mouth, there's nothing to stop the Monksford Mysteries going ahead as planned. And to do the plays we need Alistair.'

‘We can't withhold this information – that's a crime in itself.' Josh ran his fingers through his hair.

‘We're not withholding it, just delaying. We owe it to Ruth, after all the effort she's put into the plays.' Jemma felt like screaming with frustration.

‘I suppose we're only talking about a couple of days, and this has been going on for months. Mr Griffin, will you ring the vet and the Department, see if they'll accept your explanation? Then we'll all go to the police station. You can call Ruth later and give her the good news.'

Jemma felt drained. She was certain things would be far less complicated in Fleet Street.

Scene Eleven

RUTH SAT IN HER MOTHER'S CHAIR. DIMITRI PUSHED HIS HEAD AGAINST HER
legs as if he understood. She lifted him up to her lap and stroked hard, running her hands up and down his stripy back. He dug his claws into her thighs. She didn't mind the pain; it distracted her. Today was Corpus Christi, the day when the ancient plays would have been performed in an age when weekends and Bank Holidays had no meaning. After what seemed like centuries, the phone rang. It was Bram.

‘Well?' Ruth could feel her heart thumping.

‘DEFRA weren't happy about the contamination of the land. They've informed the Department of the Environment who say it will have to be sealed off and properly cleared, but they're happy that it poses no danger to the public.'

Ruth's heart was beating so loudly she was sure Bram could hear it. ‘And . . .'

‘The vet could find no trace of the disease among the cattle or sheep and the results of the blood tests aren't through yet, but he's satisfied my animals are in first class health.'

‘So that means – '

‘That means they've lifted the ban. The plays can go ahead.'

Ruth gave a whoop of joy and blew kisses to Bram down the phone. Then she found her address sheet and passed on the good news. She saved Alistair's call until last. After all he'd been through recently, he deserved some good news. She rang his house several times, but he wasn't in. She tried his mobile phone. His voice, when he answered was snatched away by the wind, which made the phone crackle and buzz.

‘Alistair, where are you?'

‘By the river. I thought I'd go for a walk to clear my head.'

‘Can I join you? I've got some news.' For once she didn't care if they were alone together. She didn't even care if he kissed her. She longed to see him, to be with him. She wanted to see his smile, to take his hand, and walk with him beside the river.

‘Better not. I don't think we should see each other, just for a while.'

It felt as if he had punched her. ‘What do you mean?'

His voice sounded strained. ‘Ruth, I'm trying to protect you. After all I've done to hurt you, surely you can let me do that.'

‘I don't understand.' She had spent months keeping him at arms length. Now, finally, she admitted to herself that she loved him, and he was pushing her away.

‘What with Amanda, and my little brush with the law.'

‘I thought you were just helping the police.'

‘I was, but now that Amanda's gone, it still wouldn't look good for you, a vicar.'

Ruth laughed. ‘After all we've been through, now you start to get all prissy.'

‘Believe me. I've got your best interests at heart. Now, what did you want to tell me about the plays?'

When she had finished, he merely said, ‘That is good news.'

Ruth felt the information warranted a little more enthusiasm. After all, Alistair was almost as much part of the mysteries as she was. ‘Alistair, what's wrong?'

‘It would be easier to tell you what's right.' He sighed, and Ruth detected a profound sadness and weariness in his voice that made her long to reach out. Now they were both single, perhaps . . . perhaps.

His phone went dead. Ruth waited for him to return her call, but he didn't. Her first instinct was to go and find him, but whatever his reasons, he had made it perfectly clear that he needed to be alone.

Overwhelmed by ‘things that needed doing', Ruth sat on the chair again, stalled by a kind of inertia. Dimitri jumped on her lap again, and she stoked his soft ears.

‘I have to help Alistair,' she said. ‘I don't know if there's anything I can do, but I have to try.'

Dimitri looked up with his cold, green eyes. Life was so simple for him – eat, sleep, and receive a little affection now and again, that was all he required. Not for the first time, Ruth wished that they could exchange places.