by Ian Martyn
His mum had badgered him to take the break, telling him that it’d do him good, that it’d be good for his soul. She was right of course, not that he would tell her that, and not that he’d needed much persuading either.
He was just wondering whether a third mug of coffee, along with a go at the crossword, would be appropriate when the creaking of the gate on its rusty hinges made him look up. ‘Uh-oh,’ he said to himself. He smiled. ‘Hello, Susie.’
Susie smiled in return as she curled a strand of straying auburn hair behind an ear. ‘Oh hello, Inspector. You decided to take that break after all?’
‘Yes, something like that.’
‘Yes, well mum can be very persuasive. Doesn’t take no for an answer.’
‘So I’m discovering.’
‘Anyway, are you enjoying yourself?’
‘Er yes, thank you.’
‘Good,’ Susie said. ‘Mum inside?’
‘Yes.’
Susie went inside the cottage and Kirby abandoned thoughts of another coffee, at least for now, as he listened to the conversation drifting out of the open door. Part of him thought he shouldn’t listen, but then he was a copper and a lifetime’s training in professional eavesdropping was hard to ignore.
‘Hello, Mum.’
‘Oh, hello, dear. Staying long?’
‘I thought I might have a weekend away from the city and uni, why?’
‘No reason.’
‘If the inspector’s in the spare room, I can always take one of the units.’
‘No, no, that’s alright, dear. You can have the spare room.’
‘Oh, Mother, you’ve not made the inspector stay out there, have you, when there’s only the two of you?’
‘Er… no dear.’
‘Then how come the spare room’s fr…’
Kirby waited as the couple of seconds passed. He held his breath. He could almost hear the cogs turning before…
‘Mother!’
Kirby decided now might be a good time to have a look at the garden, water a few plants, pull up a few things, like weeds, out. Well maybe not that, that could get him into trouble. His phone rang. At home in Cramlington he struggled to get reception, but unfortunately here it was perfect.
‘Hello, Shirley.’
‘Hello, sir, having a nice time?’
‘Yes,’ he glanced back to the cottage door. ‘At least I was.’
Sir?’
‘No, I am, thank you.’
‘That’s good, sir. That’s very good. I’m glad. Yes, excellent.’
‘Constable?’
Shirley cleared her throat. ‘Ahem. Er, sir. You remember Lily “Medussa” Johnson a.k.a. Diamond Lil?’
‘Yes, Constable, she’s not easy to forget.’
‘Well, sir, she’s escaped from remand.’
‘Escaped? She must be well over seventy and she suffers from arthritis. So what, she made her getaway on a mobility scooter and they couldn’t catch her?’
‘Well you see, sir, she was in an open prison and they didn’t think. As you say, she’s getting on a bit and they kind of left it er… open.’
Kirby sighed. ‘Don’t tell me the press have got hold of it and sensationalised it?’
‘Yes, sir, they’re calling it the “The Snake Escape” and “Anna Cond ’em”.’
‘But she’s not called Anna.’
‘Apparently it’s her middle name, sir.’
‘Brilliant.’ Kirby shook his head: you couldn’t make this up. ‘Does that need me? Just make sure the chief has a good supply of Hobnobs.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Never mind.’
‘Em…’ there was that throat clearing again. Kirby waited. ‘Actually, sir, that’s not really why I called. I just thought I’d lead you in a bit, gentle-like, seeing as you’re on your hols an’ all.’
Kirby took a breath. He didn’t like where this was going. ‘Very thoughtful, Constable. Go on.’
‘You know the wall?’
‘I guess we’re talking Hadrian, not garden?’
‘Ha, ha. Yes, sir, very funny. But you’re right.’
‘Of course I know it. Don’t tell me that’s gone now?’
‘Ha ha again, sir.’ This time the laugh was forced and just a little on the hysterical side. ‘Ah, no. Although I can see where you’re coming from.’
‘So?’
Shirley gulped.
Here it comes, thought Kirby.
‘Er… people are seeing Romans, sir.’
‘What, like re-enactment types?’
‘Er… no, sir, like real ones. Or at least what they’re saying are the ghosts of real ones.’
‘Ghosts, Shirley! Since when did we believe in ghosts?’
‘I know, sir, and before a couple of weeks ago I would have thought that as well.’
‘Still, Shirley, ghosts? People reckon they see all sorts of nonsense. That doesn’t mean we have to believe them.’
‘Yes, sir, I know. This time though it’s lots of people and, what’s more, they’ve filmed them on their mobiles.’
Kirby’s heart sank, literally, he felt it this time. He was sure it was pressing on his bladder.
‘And, Sir.’
‘Go on.’
‘One of those who filmed them was the Chief’s daughter, Sir. They were all on a family day out at Housesteads.’
‘And don’t tell me, the Chief was with them?’
‘Yes, Sir. Saw it all.’
‘Wonderful.’
‘And that’s not the best bit.’
‘There’s more?’
‘Yes, sir. They took the chief’s mother’s Labrador, Angus.’
Author’s Notes
Thanks for reading Inspector Kirby and Harold Longcoat. Having got to the end I hope you’ve enjoyed this book. If you have please leave a review on which ever site you purchased it from. Also on Goodreads if you’re a member (if not it’s a great place to discover new authors). As a self-published author reviews are so important to us and always greatly appreciated.
If you visit my author site at www.martynfiction.com you can find out more about me and my work. There is also a collection of thirteen short stories of the weird and wonderful available for free!
When they’ve recovered from this adventure, Kirby, Shirley and the rest will return in the near future taking on the might of the Roman army along Hadrian’s wall.
As for the story’s setting, Northumberland is where I grew up. I also spent, or misspent, my university years in Newcastle. It is indeed a magical county, although perhaps not quite in the sense explored in this book, but who knows? It is a land of wild hills, mile upon mile of deserted sandy beaches, incredible wildlife and of course it is packed with history. The castles of Alnwick, the ancestral home of the Percy family and Dunstanburgh, featured in these pages, do of course exist. There are also many other castles dotting the region that are well worth a visit. And yes despite Marianne’s best efforts Dunstanburgh is still there. Like Shirley and Colin I recommend the mile or so walk along the coast from the pretty little fishing village of Craster. You can park in the carpark where Kirby and the rest set off for their journey into the 5th century BC. Last time I visited there was indeed an excellent National Trust shop.
Most of the places I use in the book do exist, or at least they did at the time of completion, although I may have taken some literary licence with their exact locations for the sake of the story. The exceptions are Harold’s shop, although there are similar establishments, and the other shops and cafes I refer to. However, the Collingwood arms can be found. There is one place whose name I have changed for reasons that will become evident in the next book. However, it’s true identity will be obvious for anyone who knows Newcastle and if you don’t it won’t make any difference to your enjoyment.
Again, thank you for reading.
Ian Martyn
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Hi, I'm Ian Martyn, I live in Surrey in the United Kingdom. One long hot summer as a te
enager (they were all long hot summers then, weren't they?) I visited a friend's house. Her Dad had a collection of sc-fi and fantasy paperbacks. The covers looked great. I picked one at random, started to read and I've been hooked ever since. You can find more about me and my writing on my web site: www.martynfiction.com.
Also by Ian Martyn:
Ancestral Dreams: The Return
Project Noah
Bleak – The story of a shapeshifter.
Bleak – the first mission (a 10,000 word novelette). Now free on Amazon
Collection of short stories:
Dancing With The Devil - Thirteen science fiction and fantasy short stories of the weird and wonderful is available for free from my web site at www.martynfiction.com
