The Swimmer

by David Haynes

  “Anyone important?” Joe asked.

  “No, no-one important. What were you about to say Henrietta?”

  “I wasn’t about to say anything. You asked me who the dead man was and I was about to tell you I didn’t know, that was when the music started?”

  May wasn’t about to let go. She knew Henrietta had been on the threshold of telling them something before David got in the way, as usual.

  “Okay, Henrietta. So why did we see you throwing a flower into the sea this morning? Who was that for?”

  Henrietta didn’t flinch. “Maybe it was for Coppinger? A belated tribute to my forebear?”

  Joe saw May’s lips tighten. She was becoming frustrated with the jockeying and he didn’t want to risk losing their only line of enquiry. He spoke before May had chance. “Well Coppinger would be more than happy with a tribute like that. I might start some sort of Coppinger flower day down on the Cove. You in?”

  “What a wonderful idea.” Henrietta beamed.

  Joe smiled back. “I understand you don’t know us from Adam, Henrietta, but we all know you weren’t throwing flowers in the ocean for Mister Coppinger. As much of a fan as I am of the big man, it’s not true is it? We haven’t got an axe to grind, especially me. I just want a quiet life, but when something like this happens, I just can’t help myself. So, the way I see it is, we can just get up and leave, then make some enquiries of our own or…” He saw May’s head snap around, but he ignored the glare.

  He continued. “Or we can all be honest here and stop playing games. What do you say?”

  Henrietta stared back; her expression was completely inscrutable. She remained that way for several seconds until he turned to May and made a motion to stand. “May, I think we should…”

  Henrietta interrupted. “Joseph, if I tell you what you want to know, I can assure you, the last thing you’ll get is a quiet life.”

  Joe shuffled back in his seat. “Well, as one or two people have been so kind as to point out, maybe I need a noisy row now and again.”

  “I’ll get some more tea. This could take a while longer yet.” Henrietta took the empty tray of cups into the kitchen.

  “Show tunes?” He shook his head. “I can’t say I had you down as a show tunes type of gal.”

  May narrowed her eyes. “So what type of gal did you have me down as then?”

  “Hmmm, country and western, definitely.”

  “Country and Western? You have been alone too long.”

  Henrietta put the tray down gently and poured three cups of tea. “Round about three weeks ago, a young chap knocked on my door. I say young; to me he was, but he was probably about your age, forty ish? Anyway, I don’t know how he found me or who he was, so I told him to clear off but he just kept coming back, always with his little dog. One day he bought me a bunch of red roses, only from the Co-op but it did the trick. It’s been so long since anyone bought me a posy and I didn’t think there could be any harm in it. He said he was from Exeter University and he was studying for his PhD. He came in, drank lots of tea with me, and we just chatted about how things used to be. He knew an awful lot about that, particularly about things around here.”

  May interrupted, she was a little impatient. “Did he tell you why he chose to knock at your door?”

  Henrietta held her hands out with her palms facing upwards. “At first he told me someone in the village sent him. I was the person to speak to about how things used to be, the fount of all knowledge as it were.”

  “Oh I see.”

  “Ah, but I knew that wasn’t true. It might’ve been thirty years ago when I knew people in the village. Most of my generation are gone now though, so I don’t really know anyone that well now; certainly not well enough for them to send a stranger to my door. After speaking to him and answering his questions it became clear he already knew quite a lot, especially about things which aren’t common knowledge.”

  “Such as?” Joe asked.

  “I’ll come to that shortly. I dropped a few comments I knew weren’t correct and he picked me up on them, so I knew this was someone who had more knowledge than a student. This was someone who had connections; someone who had listened to bedtime stories or listened through the crack in a door late at night. Anyway, eventually we both realised there was too much pretence floating about and very much like you’ve done with me; I called his bluff.”

  “I’ll bet he was a damn sight easier to call than you, Henrietta.” May said.

  “Maybe he was, I don’t know. After a clearing of the air he told me his name was Adam and that his relatives were important and respected people from the area. They lived here at the start of the twentieth century and were probably second only to the Polglaze family in their wealth. He was a nice lad, and whatever money his family still had I don’t know, but he certainly wasn’t a pompous fart like David Polglaze or his father.”

  “There’s not many who’d disagree with you about that,” May stated.

  Henrietta turned her attention to May. “You know him?”

  She was suddenly cautious. Mention of the paper could derail the conversation very quickly. “I know of him, I’ve worked with him in the past.”

  “Well I knew his father and I knew David as a boy and the phrase ‘peas in a pod’ is apt.”

  Henrietta took a deep breath and then continued. “Have either of you heard about Levant mine?” They both nodded but only Joe spoke.

  “My great grandfather worked in the mine most of his life and according to my late family, he died down there.”

  It was Henrietta’s turn to be taken by surprise. “Really? And what was your great grandad’s name?”

  “His name was Alec Prideaux. I don’t know an awful lot about him. My grandma was only a few months old when he died, so she didn’t know him. I think fairly soon after he died they moved away from the area; I guess they must’ve had some money saved up.”

  Henrietta shook her head with a slim smile across her lips. “It may surprise you, Joseph that your great grandaddy and my grandad are buried together down there in Levant. They were the only two never brought back up.”

  Joe was shocked. “You’re kidding? Why were they the only two?”

  May jumped in. “Aren’t we getting off the subject a little here. I understand you two have some history, but can you talk about it afterwards?”

  Henrietta exhaled loudly and May felt colour rise in her cheeks. “Sorry I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m just anxious to hear about our dead swimmer.”

  “If you hold on a minute I think you might find that both Adam and Levant are very closely linked.”

  Joe and May looked at each other blankly and then both turned to look back at Henrietta.

  “Officially, they were at the bottom of a very big pile of dead or dying men; probably buried beneath the man engine. Whatever was left of their bodies would’ve been washed into the mud and rocks; their bodies were never found.”

  Joe nodded. “Well I suppose their burial memorial is the mine itself. How very macabre. “Where were all the others buried?”

  “They have a plot together at the back of St Just church. My mum always said it was a bit odd they were buried there.”

  “Odd? How so?” Joe asked.

  “They were all Methodists and St Just is Church of England. They don’t mix, or at least they didn’t back then.” She paused and looked at May. “Now here’s where the link comes in. Adam told me he knew of a book, a book which would cast some dark shadows over the official story.”

  May leaned in closer. “What did he tell you?”

  Henrietta slumped back in her chair. “That, I couldn’t tell you, because he didn’t tell me, or rather, wouldn’t tell me.”

  “And what about the book? Where is it?” May was getting frustrated.

  “Again, he refused to tell me.”

  “But…” May was lost for words.

  “But…he did say that when he got hold of the book, there’d be some nasty surprises for some people
around here. He also said that I’d know why my grandad was never found.”

  Joe had picked up on something Henrietta had said. “You said, ‘when’ Henrietta, when he got hold of the book. Did you think he knew where it was?”

  She smiled again. “Oh yes, he knew where the book was. He said it’s with the thirty one.”

  Both May and Joe said together. “The church.”

  Henrietta shrugged her shoulders, “Could be. He never said that, but that’s where my money would be.”

  May started to stand. “I think we should go and speak to the Reverend then, see what he knows.”

  Joe put his hand on her leg but kept his eyes on Henrietta. “How long before he died did he tell you all this?”

  “The day before.” She answered quickly.

  “And did he say why he went ocean swimming every day?”

  “He asked a lot of questions about The Brisons and whether any of my family had ever talked about them in the past. You would’ve got along well; he loved to talk about Coppinger. I told him, if Coppinger’s bones were anywhere, they were on The Brisons. Perhaps he’d gone looking for the remains?” She smiled broadly again, Joe was glad to see it; she was starting to look tired. He turned and looked at May.

  “I don’t think we should go running off anywhere for the time being, least of all the church.”

  May opened her mouth to speak but the look Joe gave her stopped her in her tracks.

  “What an afternoon Henrietta.” Joe straightened his back and grimaced. “I don’t know about you but I’m starting to get tired. Must be all the fresh air, I’m not used to it.”

  Henrietta nodded. “And I’m not the gal I used to be.”

  “So we ought to leave you in peace but maybe, if it’s okay with you, we could come back tomorrow and talk again?” He stood up.

  “That would be lovely.” She started to stand but Joe put his hand out.

  “No don’t get up, we can let ourselves out, can’t we May?” May simply nodded. She had more questions, but she could see Joe had other ideas, and for the time being was willing to cede to his judgement.

  Henrietta stared up at them both. “I wouldn’t advise going back through the tunnels. Just walk down the side path and you’re back on the lane to St Just.”

  Joe laughed. “I’m not sure I’ll be going down any tunnels again anytime soon. See you soon.”

  Henrietta raised a hand. “Just take care, the last person who came here, just to talk, is dead. I know you’re working things out, things which don’t altogether add up. Maybe they don’t need to add up. Perhaps it’s best to leave them alone.”

  “Maybe.” said Joe quickly “But maybe they should’ve added up a long time ago.”

  Joe led the way to the door but May stopped and turned. “Just one last thing, Henrietta?”

  “Yes?”

  “Why didn’t you answer the requests to name Adam? It’s been all over the press.”

  Henrietta smiled. “Because his name wasn’t Adam.”

  Joe turned sharply. “What?”

  “His name wasn’t Adam.”

  “So what was it?” He asked utterly confused.

  Henrietta winked. “Tell you what. You find that book and tell me why my grandad never saw the light of day again and I’ll tell you what his real name was.”

  Joe sighed. “I don’t think anyone could ever say you were straight forward could they?”

  “That’s probably why I’ve never married; men tend to find me a bit difficult.” Henrietta quickly replied.

  May laughed. “Not just men Henrietta.”

  Having spent the last five years driving along every lane in the area May found their way back onto the main road quickly once they left the cottage. What neither of them realised was how much time had passed since they had started talking with Henrietta. The daylight had started to diminish and both of them knew it wouldn’t be long before it was completely dark. Without the presence of street lighting the mile or so back to May’s car would take longer than either of them really had the energy for. They stayed as close to the hedgerow as they could but remained side by side.

  Neither of them spoke as they tried to digest and dissect all that Henrietta had told them. There were so many questions floating around in the ether that it was difficult for either of them to form a cohesive plan.

  Joe was the first to speak. “Listen, I’m not sure about you but that’s just blown my mind. I don’t know which way to turn.”

  May nodded. “Me too, tell you what? How about we go pick up my car and grab a bottle of plonk and a pizza? Then we can go back to yours and put our heads together?”

  “I thought we did that once today already. Very nice it was too.”

  May punched him playfully on the shoulder. “Only nice?”

  Joe laughed. “I think that would be an excellent idea. No mushrooms though, I can’t stand them.”

  “Okay, you pick the pizza and I’ll pick the wine. I just have to pop into work for five minutes, just to check my emails and listen to my messages. That was my boss who phoned earlier and I haven’t exactly been in to work much today.”

  “You haven’t been there at all have you?”

  “Exactly. Race you?” May lengthened her stride and quickened the pace.

  Joe quickened his pace too. “Show tunes?”

  David sat hunched over May’s desk and typed ‘Joseph George’ into Google. He hadn’t bothered adjusting the height of the chair to suit his frame and the hunched posture only heightened his irritable mood. The results appeared immediately and as he methodically worked his way through each link he became more and more annoyed by each story. The photographs accompanying each web page also irked him. Joseph George was clearly handsome and he’d turned May’s head.

  The stories didn’t paint him in a good light though; the drugs, death and criminality made him look like villain. Some women liked that kind of thing though, and although May had been quick to take him up on the job offer five years ago, she hadn’t taken him up on anything else since. Maybe a respectable, affluent and influential businessman wasn’t her type. David clicked the small red cross at the top right of the screen and the browser closed. His forefinger remained on the mouse button until he felt a grinding sensation beneath his finger. He pressed the button again rapidly but an impotent flap had replaced the usual click. He released his finger and the blood flowed back into his white fingernail. He pushed it bad temperedly away; he had no time for broken, useless objects, he just purchased new ones. He was beginning to wonder if May wasn’t becoming broken or useless. He picked up the dictaphone and slipped it inside his jacket pocket; he didn’t know how, but it might come in useful at some stage.

  By the time they reached Joe’s cottage, the wood fire had all but burnt itself out. It felt cold and unwelcoming when they walked in but Joe quickly stoked the fire and dropped more wood into the grate. It didn’t take long before the pop and crackle of the burning fuel made a relaxing harmony in the cottage.

  May had quickly gone into the office while Joe was waiting outside in the car. She couldn’t put her finger on it because it was so messy, but her desk looked like something had been moved. She wanted to check her emails but the mouse button had stopped working which only served to heighten her sense of disquiet. She shrugged it off; there wasn’t likely to be anything which couldn’t wait until the following day. Returning a call to David was one such task. She left the office feeling a little uneasy but the feeling quickly evaporated as she met Joe in the shop and chose the pizza. The words ‘no mushrooms.’ resounded in her ears.

  Joe poured two large glasses of Chablis and handed one to May. The wine was still cold from the chiller in the shop and icy droplets formed instantly on the glasses; they rolled lazily down their fingers. She watched as Joe took what she considered to be an inappropriately large drink from the glass. “God that’s good.”

  “I doubt you tasted it. I need you to have a clear head for a while longer yet.”

>   Joe raised his eyebrows. “Do you now?” He pushed the pizzas into his pristine oven; one vegetarian, the other pepperoni.

  “Yes, I need you to help me piece this all together.” She shook her head. “This has been one hell of a crazy week. This time last week, all I had to think about was how many pages to dedicate to advertising the farmers’ market. This week, I’ve got a dead swimmer whose name was Adam then wasn’t Adam. I’ve got a mine about to be re-opened with who knows what kind of scandal attached to it and I’ve got a reclusive writer with a single rights interview.” She threw her head back. “I need to be more careful what I wish for in future.”