She followed him up the stairs and hung back, waiting for him to open the door. He heaved and pushed. And, eventually, managed to get it open a little.
‘I don’t think it’s Martha in here. It’s just junk and rubbish. Looks as if someone tried to get something out and there was an avalanche. Maybe she was after a suitcase or something. I reckon she’s gone. Must have decided to leave the place during the night.’
‘But what about the hens? And the other creatures?’
‘I reckon she must have tried to kill the hens. There was an axe lying on the ground. Covered in blood, it was.’
‘My God. She must have been desperate. Poor old thing.’
‘There are about four hens that escaped unharmed. They’re pretty traumatised, actually. I’ve shut them inside the hen house. I’m not sure what to do with the rest of the bodies.’
‘Don’t you think we should just call the police?’
‘I suppose we should. Maybe they’ll come and sort out the mess. Do you think she was trying to get rid of the hens because they needed looking after? The other animals are out in the fields – probably OK out there for now.’
Rosie pulled out her mobile and dialled the number. She was able to speak to one of the men who had been here the previous day.
‘There seems to be no sign of Martha anywhere and well …’ She gave a gulp, ‘… it seems she slaughtered a load of the hens. We’re not sure what to do with them.’
She listened for a few moments and finally switched her phone off.
‘They’re sending someone round. We – or I – have to stay here. Do you want to go back to the build?’
‘I’ll stay with you till they get here. Do you think she’s gone off somewhere for the day, or gone completely?’ Drew asked.
‘The latter, I’d say. I don’t know if she took her stuff with her. It’s a wonder we didn’t hear something.’
‘I suspect she killed the hens during the night or even yesterday evening. We were down at the pub, remember.’
‘I guess so. It seems awful to have killed them though. Poor things. If it was her who did it, of course. We’re assuming the worst. Someone went berserk in the hen run. Almost as if it was someone crazy. Horrible. What about the ones who are left?’
‘See what the police say. We could take them on, I suppose. Build a small hen run in your garden?’
‘But I know nothing about looking after hens.’
They continued to speculate until the police finally arrived.
‘You’re sure she isn’t inside?’ the officer asked.
‘Absolutely. We looked in every room. Maybe she’s gone somewhere for the day? But we don’t think so. There are the hens, for one thing. Why on earth would anyone slaughter them like that? It was horrible. Some of them were still alive but badly injured. Drew went to sort them out.’
‘I’ve left them there, in a heap. I didn’t know what to do with them. There are still four of them alive.’
‘We’ll go and take a look.’
‘It’s not a pretty sight, be warned.’
Drew really didn’t want to go there again.
The two police went round to the site of the henhouse and came back looking slightly green.
‘I think we’ll have to burn them, actually. Everyone hereabouts will think we’re having a barbecue,’ one of them said with a smile.
‘We could take the living creatures on,’ Drew offered. ‘I can’t do much for the rest. Look, if it’s all right with you, I’d like to go and get on with my work now. You know where I am if you need me again.’
‘Very well, sir. Thanks for your help.’
‘Do you need me any more?’ Rosie asked.
‘If you don’t mind staying for a while longer. There may be something else we need to ask you.’
She gave a shrug and went to sit on the wall near the door.
The two policemen went into the house to search themselves. It was a few minutes before they emerged again.
‘You’re right. She seems to have gone,’ said one. ‘I checked in one of the wardrobes and she doesn’t seem to have left much.’
‘How bizarre. What about his clothes?’
‘They seemed to be missing too. No sign of any piles of stuff around, is there?’
Rosie thought for a moment but finally shook her head.
‘Haven’t seen anything but, then, I haven’t really looked. We could check the other side of the house.’
She walked round there and found a smouldering heap of clothes and other stuff, which smelled horrible.
‘Looks as if she tried to burn everything that was left. It’s still smoking.’
‘I think you’re right. She’s obviously left the place entirely. I wonder where she’s gone?’
‘She must have walked, wherever she went. Should I drive around and see if I can see her anywhere?’
‘We’ll keep our eyes peeled. But let us know if you see anything more of her. I shouldn’t bother looking for her.’
‘What about the hen mess out there?’
‘I’m not sure. I expect they will need to be burnt eventually. I’ll take pictures of them first and see what they say back at the station. I think you can go back to your building project now. We’ll secure this place. I’ll also see about the bullocks and sheep. Maybe someone can come and take them on. We can’t leave the bullocks outside indefinitely in this weather. They’re threatening snow later. I’m not sure what to do but someone will know.’
‘OK. I’ll see you later then,’ she said.
Back at the building site, she realised she’d never mentioned the intruder of the previous night to the police. As no harm had been done, she assumed they wouldn’t really be interested. She looked again at the pictures. Could it be Martha? It was a slight figure, could easily have been a female. But what on earth was she looking for? There was next to nothing left of the old place, except for a few of the old stones. If it was Martha, they shouldn’t be troubled by any more visits – if she had indeed left the area. She gave a shrug and deleted the slightly fuzzy pictures. Perhaps it was the end of an era after all.
Christmas came and went. She and Drew spent the day quietly and cooked Christmas dinner together. She had decided not to go anywhere and they managed to spend a fairly reasonable day. It was her first Christmas since her parents had been killed and she had been dreading it. But he knew of her fragility and made no demands on her. She was most grateful. They watched television and drank wine and felt fairly relaxed. The next day, the pair of them went to the building site and pottered around.
It was a typical Cornish winter, with lots of high winds but rarely any frost. It also rained and rained. Some days she thought it was never going to stop. then the sun would come out and work could be done on the house. To Rosie, it seemed the progress was positively snail-like but she gritted her teeth and accepted that the weather was hardly on her side.
No trace was found of Martha over the following weeks and months. The farm was left on its own to fall into some sort of decay. Dennis had not left a will of any kind and the solicitors that had dealt with the family affairs over the years were left to try to trace any kin. As with many of the old Cornish families, there were several slightly remote people involved and so it was decided to clear out the place and put it up for auction. Martha might have benefited, having lived with him for a number of years but, as she had disappeared, it was decided to leave her out of any negotiations.
Rosie and Drew had watched from the building site and seen ‘the beasts’ being driven away. They had taken over the four hens themselves, and these seemed to be thriving in their little run near to the new building. They’d built a shelter for them, too. Two were actually starting to get back into some sort of a laying routine, fed each day with fresh corn.
‘It seems amazing to me they could recover, after all that slaughter,’ Rosie said.
‘All things are amazing,’ Drew replied with a grin. ‘These creatures seem unaware of what’s g
oing on around them. But building this place. Now that’s especially amazing. Really starting to look good isn’t it?’
‘Amazing, as you say.’
She smiled at his enthusiasm and felt even more pleased that she was working with him.
Chapter 4
Rosie noticed people arriving at the farm next door. She was curious as to who they were and wondered if she should go and see. After all, she had been the one who called the police in the first place. She went across the field and knocked on the door.
‘Yes?’ said the woman who answered.
‘I was just wondering if there’s any news? About the murder? I’m living next door and it was me Martha came to find, the day it happened.’
‘Who is it, love?’ asked a man coming from inside.
‘Just some nosy woman asking about our Dennis.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Rosie said angrily. ‘I’m not just being nosy. I genuinely wanted to know if they’ve found anyone.’
‘I’m sure she’s all right. Come on inside,’ he invited. ‘We haven’t heard any more. I’m Mitch. This is Elsie, his cousin. Dennis’ cousin, that is.’
‘How do you do,’ Rosie said politely. ‘I’m Rosie Breeden. I’m re-building the old place next door. I was also worried about Martha. Has anyone seen anything of her?’
‘Nowt. She’s disappeared from the face of the earth.’
‘Good riddance. Best thing that could have happened,’ Elsie commented.
‘Hush your noise, woman. We haven’t got any news. Except this place is up for auction later next month. We’re here to clear it all out. Though what we’ll do with most of it is anyone’s guess. We can’t sell you anything, I suppose?’
‘Er, no thanks. Must be difficult for you to know what to do with it all. Perhaps someone who sells second-hand furniture could help?’
‘Yes, well we have someone coming round later today. Now, if there’s nothing else?’
‘Of course. Thanks anyway.’ She left the pair, thinking what an unpleasant couple!. If she was Dennis’ cousin, she was possibly more like him than anyone would realise. She wondered if there were more relations around, – there usually were in many Cornish families. Apart from waiting to see what happened in the auction, she would now wash her hands of the whole business of the place next door. She was going to move on.
There was a break in things she needed to progress on the project so she decided that she might try to find out about her birth parents. All she knew was that she had been brought away from a place in Truro. She looked up adoption agencies in the Truro area. Having trawled through various websites, Rosie felt extremely nervous about personal contact with any of them. She picked up her phone several times and then put it down again. It had kept for all these years, so it could wait a while longer. She needed to feel certain it was really what she wanted. She hadn’t told anyone in her new life about this personal history, not even Drew, in whom she had confided a great deal. Now she decided she was ready to talk to him about her parents, the ones she had known and grown up with and her birth parents, or what little she knew of them. Over dinner that evening, she planned to bring it up, and get his opinion on whether she should seek them out or not.
‘I’d like to take us out this evening,’ she told him when he arrived back.
‘Do you know of a quiet pub we could talk?’
‘That’s nice of you. OK, there’s a good one along the coast a bit. Why?’
‘I need to talk to you. About me and my life. I’ll go and change.’
She went into her room and selected a new dress she’d bought recently.
‘Wow. All this for a dinner out with me? I’d better go and change, myself.’
‘You’re fine. I haven’t got a lot to wear, so don’t make any more comments, please.’
They sat at a corner table, one where she felt she could tell him about her parents without being overheard.
‘So, what’s this all about?’ Drew asked, somewhat intrigued.
‘I recently discovered that I was adopted,’ she began. ‘It was written in a letter given to me by my parents’ solicitor.’
‘What? You mean they’d never told you?’
‘Nope. It had all been kept a secret, as if they were ashamed of telling me or something.’
‘Wow. That was certainly something to discover. Your parents – the adoptive ones – they were killed in a car accident, weren’t they?’
She frowned slightly.
‘Yes.’
She held her breath for a moment or two, regaining control.
‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.’
He reached over and gently took her hand.
‘It’s OK. Sorry.’
Rosie gulped back her tears and continued her story.
‘The thing is, they evidently got me from somewhere near Truro. So I wondered if my birth parents might actually be from around here. I looked up adoption agencies in Truro but never actually called them.’
‘Is it a good idea to start searching for them at the moment? I mean to say, you have got loads on.’
‘I sort of feel obliged to look.’
‘Have you thought they might not actually be … well, your sort of person? I was thinking, if it was a schoolgirl who got into trouble or something?’
‘I know. But I still feel duty-bound. It came to me as such a shock. The letter Mum wrote got burned in the fire. I’ve typed in as much of it as I could remember. Here, I printed it out, so you could see it.’
She groped in her bag and produced the folded sheet. Drew read it and then looked at her.
‘I’m sorry. I’m just not sure it’s a good thing to be doing right now. Why don’t you wait till the build is finished and then tackle this?’
‘Maybe you’re right. It might be a bit much at present. But thanks for listening. I just needed to speak about it to someone. Now, are we having a pudding?’
She wanted to change the subject.
‘Oh definitely!’ he agreed.
Each morning, Rosie studied the security camera pictures on her computer. Since the night Martha had disappeared, there had been no more troubles. She became more and more convinced it had been Martha wandering round the site. Whatever she was looking for had never been discovered but, as it now seemed to be over with, she stopped worrying. Strange little woman, she thought. She had wondered if anything had been seen of her since but nobody seemed to know anything about where she went, or what happened to her. The murder of Dennis was also still under investigation but, again, nothing.
The farm was to be auctioned later the following month so it was anticipated that a lot of interest would be generated, with a number of visitors having been to look round it. Rosie was curious to see who might become her new neighbours. Evidently, the police were too, and seemed to have a fairly high profile in the area. One of them came round to the site one day to chat to the workers.
‘Anybody seen anything? Strangers wandering round?’ he asked them.
Bill shook his head.
‘Only a few folks looking round the farm. But no one lurking, as it were,’ he told the officer.
‘OK, anyone else seen anything?’
He asked each of the builders in turn.
Tom, Fred and Jimmy were equally uninformative.
Drew made a similar statement when Rosie was there.
‘Have any of you seen anything of Martha?’ she asked the officer. ‘I do worry about her.’
‘Not a sausage. She seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth. OK. Well, let us know if you see anyone ‘lurking’ around, as Bill put it.’
‘Will do. There doesn’t seem to have been anything suspicious since Martha disappeared. On the security cameras, I saw an intruder wandering round in the night while she was still here but, after that, it’s all been peaceful.
The policeman went off and work was under way again.
‘We’re about to dig a cess pit,’ Drew told Rosie. ‘We’re going to put in a thi
ng called a Klargester, a huge sort of septic tank that should do the job. We thought of putting it over there, away from the house. What do you think?’
‘Sounds good to me. But you haven’t found a mine shaft anywhere near there, have you?’
She vaguely remembered seeing something when she was looking at the plans of the old property.
‘I don’t think so. If there is, must have sunk well down into the ground.’
‘Take care with the digger, anyway. Don’t want you falling into any deep pits.’
Rosie pulled out the old maps of the area she had obtained from the Cornish Studies Centre and looked at them in closer detail. As she had suspected, there was a mineshaft shown, and it looked quite close to where the crew were about to begin. She went out to alert Drew, but he was already using the earthmover. She stood watching, anxious about his progress. The digger moved the earth incredibly quickly and piled it to one side. Suddenly, there was a large crunch and the machine sank down towards the hole.
‘Oh heavens, Drew!’ she yelled, putting her hand across her mouth. ‘Be careful, for goodness’ sake.’
He skilfully manoeuvred the digger, using the front bucket to stop it from falling any deeper and backed the machine away from the mouth of the hole. Rosie breathed a sign of relief. Bill was assisting him and looked down the large crevasse that had been revealed.
‘Bloody hell, that was a near thing!’ he exclaimed. ‘Thought you were a gonner then.’
‘I had a horrible feeling you were too close,’ Rosie told him. ‘I came out to warn you about the mineshaft. I think we’d better move it away from there, don’t you?’
‘You’d better take a look,’ Bill told them. ‘I think there’s a body down there.’
Drew turned off the digger’s engine and jumped down. The others came over and they all stood looking into what was clearly a deep hole. The cap had disintegrated over the years and the whole thing had fallen in. Grass had grown over it all, so nobody could spot it any more.
‘I was just coming to tell you to look out for it. It’s shown on the old map,’ Rosie told them. ‘The shaft, I mean, not the body.’
‘Blimey, Bill, you’re right. How long has that been there?’ asked Jimmy.
The Phoenix Project Page 5
