'To confirm identification, of course they would. Except that you don't have any identification to confirm, and in any case, if as seems probable this chap is prewar, I doubt if his records are still lying about, even supposing he didn't just have his extractions done by the local vet in the first place.'
'Thanks a lot,' said Dalziel. 'I can see why you specialize in dead 'uns, Troll. Don't have to worry about cheering them up.'
He put down the phone. It rang almost immediately.
'Seymour, sir. We've just had word on Walker's bike from Forensic. No sign of any paint or other traces from the contact vehicle, but the front wheel had damage consistent with being run over by a car wheel.'
'Great, that helps a lot,' said Dalziel.
'Yes, sir. I mean, no. I mean, maybe. . look, the thing is, sir, if the car actually ran over the bike, how come we found it in the dyke thirty feet away from the woman?'
'Bugger who hit her hoyed it there so's anyone else passing wouldn't notice the accident,' suggested Dalziel.
'Yes, sir. Except that, as I explained earlier, there aren't any traces on the road of a car braking violently. And if the vehicle did actually run over the bike, it would have been dragged along the surface, leaving very distinct marks in the tarmac.'
'So what is it you're suggesting, lad?'
'Well, maybe Wendy Walker was knocked down somewhere else and the driver decided he'd rather she were found a lot further away from his home, say. Or.. '
'Let's have it, lad.'
'Or she wasn't knocked down at all, but someone would like it to look like that.'
xi
For a while on the journey back from Kirkton, Peter Pascoe got ahead of the rain. But always its dirty grey clouds came bubbling up in his rear-view mirror and suddenly they were above and beyond him, spilling huge greasy drops to burst like insects on his screen. The dual carriageway he was on was crowded and soon driving began to feel like crawling along the bed of a filthy canal littered with the rubbish of an over-consumering society.
At the first opportunity he turned onto a country road, often his preferred route in good weather because of the pleasant rolling countryside it wound its way through. But today there was little hope of enjoying the view. Indeed, as if provoked by his attempt at escape, the clouds now darkened to black and exploded in such fury over his head that he could hardly see the road let alone the landscape. He dropped his speed to twenty but even then almost overshot a sharp bend and, deciding enough was enough, he pulled off the road onto a cart track and came to a halt in the shelter of a small clump of trees.
He turned on his radio but the rain was making it crackle and fizz so unpleasantly that he soon turned it off. He was, he realized, curiously disturbed by his encounter with the ghastly Quiggins women. Not just by the abuse the old one had showered on his family but also by the sense they'd given him of how claustrophobic life in a village like Kirkton must have been only a couple of generations ago. Perhaps still was! And this was his heritage, this was where he came from.
He almost wished that when he'd discovered that the Wyfies' barracks had been knocked down he had simply scattered the ashes on the site and carried on home. What did it matter where your remains came to rest? If I should die, think only this of me: That there's some corner of a short-stay park that is forever Ada!
He managed a smile at the parody but it didn't change things. He'd gone into the museum, met the major, and now he was stuck with knowledge he couldn't ignore.
The rain showed no sign of letting up. Pity he hadn't bought a newspaper. But there was reading matter in his glove compartment, and not inappropriate. It was the volume on the First World War which Major Studholme had loaned him. He opened it and turned to the chapter on Passchendaele.
It was a brisk, scholarly account, concentrating on giving detail rather than drawing conclusions. Not that this was a felt deficiency as the simple facts spoke eloquently for themselves.
After the opening assaults on the last day of July, the opposing armies settled in their new lines, which weren't all that much different from the old, and shelled and bombed and skirmished with each other while the intermittent sun dried the surface of the bogland sufficiently for the Allied High Command to contemplate the next major push. Main objectives were the village of Langemarck on the left of the Salient and Glencorse Wood on the right. August 13th was the chosen day for the attacks to start. On August 11th it started to rain again, and rained, and rained, and rained. .
.. and rained! After the opening attack wed come out of the line — weather had improved a bit then — sunshine and showers — and Gertie was back to his old form. I knew how he were feeling — first time under fire and youve survived — you feel like youve just come out of the dentists — it were hell but its over and everythings going to be all right from now on.
Except that its not — youve got to do it again — and again — and again — and it never gets any better — and its when you realize that that the real test comes.
But for now Gertie felt like a hero. Bank Holiday back home, Pascoe — he said — everyone off to the coast. Wish I were with them sir — I said.
No you dont — he said — better off here. Think how they put up the price of ice cream on a Bank Holiday.
Well it were all very jolly for a while — but I knew that the longer the sun shone the more certain it was thered be another push — and sure enough on the 10th we went back into reserve — and sure enough on the 11th the rain started again.
Word is the bombardment has really got Jerry on the back foot up in Glencorse — said Gertie — doubt if well even be called forward this time.
I caught Jammy looking at me to see if Id agree —! said nothing — all I knew was the Huns had got more pillboxes than Doctor Dick in Glencorse and that Id never been in reserve yet but what we were called forward.
But still you hope against hope — when you hear the whistles and see the flares and know that up ahead the far side of Sanctuary its started — mebbe this time itll go to plan. We are cold and wet in our mud filled holes — but nobodys complaining — up there in Glencorse therell be heat enough from bombs and bullets — and men lying in the wet crying for water. Mebbe this time we wont be called — but I know we will — I know what Gerties still got to learn — that theres no such thing as worst — theres always more — and the only way to get Fritz out of his concrete pillboxes is to pile our dead so high in front of them he cant see out to fire.
It took longer than I thought afore we were called forward — not because things went better but because things were so bad hardly anybody was left to send the news back.
In a battle you only know later what youve been doing, while youre doing it all you know is what you can see right ahead of you — and when this is a sodden pock-marked desolation with a bristle of pathetic stumps that had once been trees — and theres no glimmer of sun to give you a hint of direction — then you might as well be anywhere — except there was something to give us a hint
— bodies — this was where the first attack had gone in no doubt — like a trail dropped in a paperchase the bodies of our own dead showed us the way — we even trod on them — no helping it — and besides they kept you out of the mud.
I could hear Gertie jabbering away — lots of encouraging words like he was at a football match — but a bit too high a bit too fast — then suddenly they stopped and I thought hes bought it! But when I looked along the line I saw hed just come to a halt — just like that first time — mouth open like a hen with gapes — staring at a head which had got blown clean off some poor devils shoulders and landed squat on the end of one of those blasted stumps.
I saw Jammy give him a push — then when that didnt work a real jab in the kidneys — that woke him up and off he went again — only he wasnt shouting any more — Jerry had been pretty quiet up till now — maybe to let us get close — but suddenly he opened up from those bloody boxes — we all went down so quick it must have been hard to say whod been hit who not — only when we started to move and slither into better protection it soon became clear — Johnny Cadger was hit — hed always been looking for a Blighty but from the awful bubbling screams he was letting out hed overdone it — a lot of others too — but worst of all Jammy had taken one in the chest. Steve was close by him and had managed to drag him into cover, somehow I wriggled across to join them — Gertie was in the same hole — he looked so bad I felt sure he mustve caught one too — but Steve said — no hes all right but the sergeants bad — Jammy looked up at me and said — acting sergeant now Pete — mebbe permanent from the way I feel — I said — Nay Jammy — miserable sod like you wouldnt do owt nice like dying on us — he tried to smile then said