The Mausoleum

by David Mark

  ‘Bones?’

  ‘Years back the church was being repaired and the flagstones were taken up. There were more human bones found under the floor of the church than they were able to count. The archaeologists have made plenty guesses who they were but nobody knows. They were centuries old though and they died hard. The Saxons buried their honoured dead in stone coffins and there are plenty of those in the churchyard. More bones under the font too. Robert the Bruce ploughed his way through this land after the Battle of Bannockburn and there were locals who saw it as their duty to defend it. They were buried where they fell. Honestly, we think we know about where we live but we’re just passing through really. The land knows more than we do.’

  ‘Fairfax interviewed you?’ I asked.

  ‘Time and again,’ laughed Harper. ‘Loved a yarn. Broke my heart to hear of the accident. He’ll be buried there, will he, Mrs Goose? In the yard?’

  I ignored him. The pain in my hip was getting worse. I wanted a hot bath and some time to think. I wanted to see if my son was OK and find out why he hadn’t been at school. I wanted to say thank you and tell him off all at the same time.

  ‘He’s with the undertaker in Haltwhistle,’ said Cordelia, when she realized I wasn’t going to answer. ‘I think he’d like to be buried there from what little I knew of him.’

  ‘Buried with his secrets, no doubt,’ laughed Harper. ‘That book of his – shame it never saw light of day.’

  I tried to persuade myself to smile but my face wasn’t obeying me. I was tired and cold and everything ached. I moved myself over to the table and picked up Brian’s jacket. It was damp and dirty and smelled like him – that strange mingling of chemicals, meat and cigarette smoke. I carried it to the sink and picked up the nailbrush. I started scrubbing the dried-in grime from the elbows.

  ‘Did anybody mention what we thought we saw?’ asked Cordelia, and I promise you she flicked her hair when she said it. The girl knew what to do with men. Forgive me, but I don’t reckon she were a virgin on her wedding night. She’s told me as much since. Told me more than I really asked to know.

  ‘I heard a whisper,’ smiled Harper. ‘Not to worry, you had a fright, so I heard. The mind’s a funny thing. I remember looking at a cloud when I was sick with tonsillitis and I swear I saw Christ on the cross in among the ripples. Don’t feel silly.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Cordelia. Honestly, she had no shame.

  Then two things happened. They might have been at the same time or they might have been moments apart but I remember them as happening at once. I heard John open the back door and come running in like he was being chased. He was saying my name. Saying it like a daft lad, over and over, like a pecking bird.

  And then I found it. Patting the pockets, feeling embarrassed, muttering that I was fine and he didn’t need to make a fuss. I put my hand in Brian’s jacket pocket and it took an effort not to jump back like I’d been bit. I turned my back to the room to look at it properly. My lungs felt like they were being squashed. My arms went all chicken-skinned. It felt like there were crumbs under my clothes.

  It sat there. Just sat there – glinting up at me from the blood and grime on my palm.

  Bullet-shaped. Solid. Smooth. Smiling up at me.

  A gold tooth.

  CORDELIA

  I could see from the shape of her that something had changed. She’d gone stiff, like all her joints had lost their elasticity and she had transformed into a shop-window dummy. John was trying to get her to look at him. Was digging at us both for answers. He’d had a call at work. Harper’s lad. There’d been an accident. Felicity was fine but he might want to get himself home …

  ‘It’s fine, John,’ I said, and his name seemed to fit the shape of my tongue. I liked saying it. Wanted to say it again.

  ‘Mrs Hemlock,’ he said, and I could see the battle in him. It was manners versus the moment. He wanted us all gone. Wanted to hug his wife without anybody seeing. It was like that, then. People cared about losing something of themselves if too many people saw them for what they were.

  ‘Shall we give her a moment?’ I asked, and it surprised me as much as him. ‘I haven’t seen the mess since we got in. Is the house OK? We’d be as well to take a look, don’t you think?’

  I pitied him for so many reasons. I saw the confusion in his face. He wanted answers and he wanted to hold the woman he loved. But people were watching. It was a rare, peculiar situation and he didn’t know what he was supposed to be. I could have made him do anything in that moment. He was so directionless that all it would have taken was a slight pursing of my lips and I could have blown him to the four winds. I’d have done it, too, were there anything to be gained. I’d have climbed inside his head and pulled things apart if it hadn’t been that Felicity was so much more important than anybody else within a thousand miles. It had almost killed me, seeing her laying there on the road. How had she become so important? When? All I knew was that I needed to save her from this moment and leave her to deal with whatever had caused her spine to turn so rigid.

  ‘Ah, ’tis good to see you,’ said Harper, and I noticed that his portrayal of a genial Irishman became more pronounced in the face of awkwardness. He was a clever man, there was no mistaking. Almost as clever as me.

  ‘Your boy …’

  ‘Ah, I told him not to worry you. Did he call from the house?’

  ‘I don’t know. It came through to work.’

  ‘And you came running home. Aye, you’re a good man, you mark my words. I’ll be leaving you to it, I suppose. Best check on the youngster, see he hasn’t pulled the rest of the house down while reversing, eh?’

  They shook hands at that. Something passed between them that said this would be the end of it. Harper had done no wrong and John hadn’t shown himself up. I think I envied them. Envied them the ridiculous simplicity of their association.

  ‘I’ll be docked a half day,’ said John, when there was just the three of us in the kitchen. He seemed relieved at being able to immerse himself in the simple comfort of grumbling. ‘I’ll owe Graffoe a few good turns too. Dropped everything to run me home. Bloody hell, Felicity, but you scared me.’

  She hadn’t turned from the window. Her whole body seemed to be a cocoon, as if she were holding something precious within herself.

  ‘You’ll be wanting to say thank you to your youngest,’ I said, and I almost laughed at how unlike the locals I sounded as I said it. ‘He pushed her out of the way. Brave lad. Good boy.’

  It sounded ridiculous against my lips. I’d read Ulysses, for God’s sake, and here I was, dealing in monosyllabic platitudes. I repulsed myself. Repelled, now I think on it.

  ‘Is he all right?’ asked John.

  ‘Scratches, but he’s tough. Like his mam. His dad.’

  John nodded. Gave his wife a look and then nodded, more to himself than to either one of us. He turned and I followed him down the corridor to the front room. It was a cold, unwelcoming space. The sofa was a brown and grey leather with tartan cushions which clashed spectacularly with the pink and apricot swirls of the wallpaper. An electric fire sat in an unlit hearth, edged with beige tiles. The coffee table in the centre of the room was made of cheap wood varnished to a gaudy gloss, and the dresser against the wall contained good china cups and saucers that looked as though they had never been used. With the curtains drawn it looked as miserable as the kitchen looked inviting.

  ‘Is she really all right?’ he asked, turning to me like he was being controlled by strings. ‘They said not to panic, but I’ve got myself in such a lather. And Brian. Bloody hell, is it true? Did he push her out the way? What were he doing there? It were school today, weren’t it? That lad’ll be the death of both of us …’

  I let him talk. He needed it. Needed to rail against the inadequacies of his life and the failings of others so he could avoid staring at the horror of what might have happened that day.

  ‘She don’t need this,’ said John, hands on his hips, looking at the floor. ‘
I thought she did. Thought it might bring summat out of her. But it’s gone ’tother way. That’ll do, eh?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘This stuff with Fairfax. With this body she reckons you saw. When she told me there were a sparkle about her. Some life. It were nice to see. She can be such a one with her nerves. She won’t cross water, did you know that? Won’t walk over a stream and can only go over one on the bus with her eyes closed and her hand gripping mine down to the bone. She jumps at every noise. Fairfax, God rest him – he wanted to interview her loads over the years but was frightened to ask in case she got herself in a tizzy about it. That’s what she does. She’s a bag of nerves. But she were different last night, did you not notice? Talking about things that normally would have turned her stomach. I thought it would take her out of herself. But we didn’t even get through a day of it and she’s on her backside in the street.’

  He pulled his cap from his pocket. Twisted it like he was killing an eel. Ran a hand back over his head and managed to raise his head enough to look me in the eye.

  ‘That’ll be the end of it, yes?’

  My breath came out in a rush. There may have been laughter in it. I was disgusted with him. How could he make a decision like that? Just tell me that he’d made up his mind and his wife could no longer come out to play. It felt like I’d been pressed into the pages of a book written a hundred years before. I glared at him, silently repeating my vows to myself – I would never be told what to do. I would never be controlled. I would never be shackled by somebody who did not love my independence as much as they loved the idea of us being together. It was the way I felt a lot back then. For all my cleverness I never really opened my mind or my ears to anything other than the bits of a sentence that stood out. I just heard John being some patriarch; some brute of a husband who found his wife weak. Looking back I wish I’d said something more comforting. He’d had a shock. He knew his wife better than I did. And by God he loved her. I was upset for myself – upset that he’d said that we were done.

  ‘That’s her decision to make,’ I snapped. ‘She was enjoying herself. She’s really very clever and I don’t know people like she does. I can’t do this on my own.’

  ‘You shouldn’t be doing it at all. Fairfax had an accident and there was no bloody body.’ He didn’t raise his voice but I could see he was getting cross.

  ‘There was!’ I shouted. ‘A blue suit and good shoes and a bag hanging from one strap. Sprawled on the grass with his head turned to one side. I saw him. Felicity saw him!’

  Temper flashed in his face. ‘Well mebbe he were there for a reason! You thought of that? There’s a bloody rocket base up the road. There are criminals from London running a casino not more’n a few miles away. Pike’s put his hands around enough men’s throats and he lives twenty yards from the church gate. Do you want to dig into all that muck? Do you?’

  I was breathing hard. I felt like I was being told off and that immediately made me aggressively defensive.

  ‘If somebody’s done something wrong …’

  ‘You don’t care about the living!’ he snapped, jerking his head forward. ‘You walk past people like they’re stones. You’ve never come and knocked on a door and asked after a soul or even stopped to have a natter in the street. Yer walk past with your nose sniffing the clouds and now yer talk about what’s right and what’s not. Yer doing this for the thrill of it and to tek yer mind off yer lad.’

  I wanted to hit him. I could see myself doing it – slapping my right hand across his face and feeling the sting on my palm. But his face changed before I could get to him. Regret rippled across his face. Shame.

  ‘I’m sorry …’ he muttered, dragging his hand back across his scalp. ‘I’m het up. There were no need.’

  I felt like my legs were going to give out on me. I slumped down onto the armchair and felt the cold leather against my bare arms and the back of my neck. The hairs on my arms rose like sails and I found myself shivering, even as my cheeks burned.

  ‘She’s not like you think,’ I said, surprised to hear myself speaking so quietly. ‘She’s not some fragile thing.’

  ‘I know that,’ he said, whispering now, as if he was trying to make up for shouting so harshly. ‘She’s got iron in her soul and she can be stubborn when she needs to be. But there’s a difference between finding a bit more toughness, a bit more spark, and digging into a bloody murder, love.’

  ‘If Chivers had just come to talk to me …’ I began.

  ‘You ever think Chivers might know more than you, love? More than all of us?’

  I didn’t reply. In truth, it hadn’t occurred to me. Did Chivers have an agenda of his own? Might he already know about the body and be deliberately avoiding taking a statement from me? Could he be in the pay of somebody a lot more powerful than the silly snotty girl up the hill?

  ‘Look, I’ve been thinking about this,’ he said, and he came nearer, standing over me. I must have shrunk back a little because he instantly changed his pose and squatted down in front of me like he was going to take my boots off.

  ‘Love, I’ll admit it – you got me interested last night,’ he said, and I saw for the first time how attractive his eyes were. They reminded me of the colours at a pigeon’s throat. ‘What you said about prisoners of war and papers under the church floor. It got me blood up and I saw in Felicity that she didn’t want to let it go. But I feel like I were drunk on it last night and I’m sober right now and there’s no way I want either of you messing about in this.’

  ‘It was an accident,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘The wagon came out of nowhere. She’d run because a bird came through the window. She’d had a fright.’

  ‘A bird?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah, it came through the landing window and shattered the glass.’

  ‘It dead?’ asked John, standing up.

  ‘Of course. What does that matter?’

  ‘You won’t understand,’ said John, shaking his head. ‘We must seem like peasants to you, love. I don’t mean it cruel but you don’t know life as it’s lived here. They’re a superstitious lot.’

  ‘They?’ I asked, temper rising again. ‘You’re not one of them?’

  ‘I’m from Brampton, love. Compared to this place that’s the big city. I don’t walk under ladders and I try not to spill the salt but I don’t worry about omens and old prophesies or drawing a cross on my shoe if I see a white horse. But they do, love. Felicity’s from that. And a bird coming through the glass the week of the death of a loved one – that means they’re not at rest. To Felicity that means Fairfax is somewhere other than at peace. No wonder she ran.’

  I could see then how much he wanted me gone. He wanted to go and hold his wife and it would have been wrong of me not to let him. But I needed more. Had to push.

  ‘Doesn’t that mean she’ll want to help me keep digging?’

  ‘Aye, it might, but it’s not what’s best.’

  ‘You, then,’ I said, a little desperately. ‘You could ask around with me. Read Fairfax’s papers with me. You know the locals. You said about Pike …’

  ‘Pike’s a nutter. Always has been. Put more men in hospital than the flu.’

  ‘And Chivers would know that?’ I asked.

  ‘Chivers knows plenty but you don’t need to be a policeman to know about Pike. I said as much to Brian. I know Pike can seem reasonable sometimes and he’s got that, I dunno, that badness about him which people want to get close to. But he’s no good. When he fights he goes for the eyes. He’s wrong.’

  ‘And he lives directly opposite the church?’ I asked, incredulous.

  ‘Aye with his mam. Been here and there and did some time with the army though I wouldn’t trust him with a wooden spoon, let alone a gun. He’s dangerous. I dunno why Fairfax put up with him.’

  ‘He knew Fairfax?’

  ‘All his life. Was friends with Christopher, Fairfax’s son. Felicity told me, years ago. Pike always seemed a bit more respectful with Fairfax, but y
ou shouldn’t poke a sleeping dog no matter how friendly they seem.’

  I stayed silent. Screwed up my eyes as if trying to swallow toast with a sore throat.

  ‘They’re at it again,’ said John, sadly, cocking his head. We could hear banging and shouting coming from upstairs.

  ‘Brian and Felicity?’ I asked.

  ‘Aye. He’s not a bad boy. Just needs his brain tweaking a bit. It’s not easy, having a soul that don’t fit yer surroundings.’ He smiled a little. ‘You’d know better than I.’

  ‘Is that what he is? A city kid in the country?’

  John shrugged. ‘Sometimes I think so. Others I don’t. He loves nature but I think he loves the wrong bits. He don’t worry overmuch about sunsets or full moons. He likes getting two rats in a bucket and watching them fight. He can stand for an hour watching a spider eat a moth it’s caught in its web. He can seem such a big mouth one minute and the next he’s crying on his own in his room. His older brother weren’t like him. Felicity worries.’

  ‘You must too,’ I said.

  He seemed puzzled at that, as if I was the first person to realize that his son was more than just his wife’s business. There was the sound of footsteps and then the slam of a door. A moment later it opened and closed again. John turned and crossed to the window, pulling open the curtains.

  ‘She’s gone after him,’ he said. ‘Limping like she’s been in a bullfight and not a coat on.’ He shook his head. I wanted to put a hand on his shoulder or say something kind but he had the same stiffness to his posture as Felicity had taken on in the kitchen and suddenly it all seemed too impenetrable. These people had something I didn’t – they could turn themselves to statues when the pain became too great. They could make a steel rod of their spine while people like me bent and twisted and spiralled into nothing but sobs and tears and wishes.

  I was quiet as I gathered my things from the kitchen. Didn’t say goodbye as I closed the door.

  Felicity had gone running down the road towards the church. To my left, Harper and his son were sitting in the cab of the wagon, eating sandwiches and smoking. The lad waved his hand in greeting and I might have managed a nod in return.