Jenna knew this to be the truth, she'd spent enough time rummaging through the old family papers, so why had it never occurred to her that something like that was missing, her research had been laughable.
'What did he say when you asked him?' Fossey queried.
'He wouldn't say owt at first, but I stuck at him, it was kind of eating away at me. In the end he said the farm had been gifted to my father, though that's all the old sod would admit to.'
Jenna frowned. 'Gifted?'
'Aye, love, my old man paid bugger all for the place.'
'But why would Radfield do something like that?'
Ronnie looked at her, but he couldn't hold her gaze. 'I honestly don't know, I mean, I never thought there would have been owt shady going on…'
'But what did he know about the Radfields that would make them hand over five hundred acres of land and a house!' Jenna snapped.
'Did it have anything to do with the men who died in the mine?' Fossey asked.
Jenna looked back and forth between the two men, confused.
Ronnie cleared his throat, his eyes suddenly guarded. 'What makes you think that?'
'It's just that when we were talking earlier, you couldn't get away fast enough when I asked you if you knew the men who died.'
'You mean the mine that flooded?' Jenna asked.
Ronnie suddenly felt as if the conifers were closing in on all sides, the air felt rarefied, his head weighed heavy on his shoulders. 'You know about that, do you?'
'Of course I know, Grandad, but what has it got to do with us?'
The silence seemed to stretch out, the sun blasting down on Ronnie's head like an accusation.
Fossey leaned forward, the dog jumped down and went to Jenna. 'Listen, Ronnie, whatever happened was not of your doing, you already said that you only found out after your father died.'
'I know, lad, I just wish I'd never been up to see Radfield. I should have just forgotten about the whole thing, kept my bloody big nose out and got on with life.'
Jenna hugged the small dog to her chest. 'Come on, just tell us, like Patrick said it can't be anything you've done.'
Ronnie sat up and squared his shoulders. 'I said I knew the men who drowned, one of them was George Woodman…'
'Jim Woodman's dad?' she asked.
'No, love, it was Jim's grandad.'
'I never knew that.'
'The other bloke was Brian Denney, he used to work for the Radfields as a stable hand.' Ronnie swallowed before wiping a shaking hand across his forehead. 'The trouble is, according to the diary there were three men died in the mine, not two.'
Fossey took a sip from the can. 'Do you have any idea about the third man?'
'He was a traveller.'
Jenna twisted her legs and sat up on her knees. 'You mean a gypsy?'
'Not as such, he lived on a narrowboat, back then it were a kind of annual thing, when it was time for gathering the crops you'd get 'em turning up. They'd moor themselves up at the top lock and come down looking for work; of course, a fair few worked for the Radfields.'
'You mean they'd exploit them?' Jenna said, imagining countless unfortunates, bent double as they toiled away for next to no pay, while the Radfields played cricket and sipped champagne.
'Boat folk always lived cheap, love, I can remember times when the canal banks were lined with barges for at least half a mile,' he paused, 'in fact we used to have a few families who would work on the farm, all through July and August…'
'I never knew that,' she couldn't believe this hidden history that she knew nothing about.
'Aye, they'd work during the day and then head off back to the barge at night. It was a good setup and they worked bloody hard too.'
Fossey watched Jenna's face closely, he saw the frown form, the realisation that maybe her family had exploited the barge people in the same way the Radfields had. She glanced at him and then quickly looked away.
'So, what happened?' Fossey asked.
For a few seconds he looked confused. 'Oh aye, sorry, I was getting carried away.'
'His name, Grandad, what was his name?'
'Sam Wickham.'
Jenna looked disappointed, she felt like the name should have meant something to her, like some great mystery would have been revealed.
'How come he was working on the moors, I mean, did he have any knowledge of working the mines?' Fossey asked.
Ronnie snatched his cap from the table. 'How the hell should I know, it was the Radfields he worked for not us,' his grizzled face was suddenly florid with anger. 'Besides I don't know why I'm even telling you this, I mean, this is just some bloody gossip you can stick in your next book ain't it.'
'Grandad, for God's sake, calm down!'
When Ronnie opened his mouth, it was with the intention of apologising, it was as much a surprise to him when he began to rant. 'No, Jenna, it's all right for him, writing his bloody daft books, not giving a toss about what he says. But it affects us, I mean, you'll just move on to your next victim, with a clear conscience, won't you?'
Jenna felt mortified. 'Grandad, he's only trying to help.'
'Oh aye, and how's he doing that?'
Fossey sat back in the chair and crossed his legs. 'Look, I'm sorry if I've offended you in some way.'
'You don't have to apologise, Patrick,' she spun around in anger. 'Grandad, you're being ridiculous…'
'Well, let's see if you feel the same way when he's writing about us, telling the world and his wife about how we only got the farm because we had some dirt on the Radfields.'
For the first time Jenna looked unsure, she glanced at Fossey, a hint of caution in her eyes.
'Look, if you'd sooner forget the whole thing, then I understand completely.'
'Aye well, maybe we do.' Ronnie snarled.
Jenna rubbed the palms of her hands down the front of her jeans; it was something she would do as a child, when she felt agitated. 'Hang on, this is stupid…'
He stabbed a finger at Fossey. 'Nay, lass, I know what these buggers are like.'
'Look, maybe it would be best if I ran you both home?'
'What!'
'Listen, Jenna, I'm not interested in how your family came to own the farm, it has nothing to do with me.'
Ronnie stood up and slapped the cap onto his head. 'Come on, Jenna, I'll give your mother a ring, she can pick us up.'
Her head was in turmoil; she could feel another crack open up in the foundations of her life. 'No way, I'm going nowhere, Grandad, not until you start making sense!'
When he grabbed her arm, she nearly cried out in shock, his fingers digging deep. 'Never mind "no way" you heard what he said…'
She snatched her arm free. 'You're right, I did, and he said he wasn't interested in the farm.'
'If that's true, then why is he asking all these bloody questions, eh, you answer me that?'
Fossey hadn't moved from the bench, now he stood up and looked at the old man, white spittle had formed in the corner of Ronnie's mouth, sweat coated his forehead. 'It might be best if you explain things to us, Ronnie.'
'Oh aye, and why would that be?'
'Because the police will be looking into the Radfield's background and they might not be as sympathetic.'
Ronnie swallowed, a dry click in his throat. 'You're bloody lying; why would they be interested in summat that happened over forty year ago?'
'Because, while you're concerned with skeletons in the cupboard, they're more interested in finding a multiple killer. Now, one of the first places they'll look is into the family's business dealings.'
Jenna could see the colour draining from her grandad's face. 'But they can't…'
She took hold of his sleeve, giving it a slight tug. 'Come on, Grandad, sooner or later they'll come knocking on our door wanting to know why Radfield handed over the farm for free. You won't be able to tell them to 'bugger off' will you?'
He licked his lips; this whole thing was turning into his worst nightmare. He could envision people in
the village talking about his family behind their lace curtains. An image flitted through his mind, walking into the Radfield Arms and seeing the faces he knew so well all regarding him with contempt. Christ alone knew, over the years he had done more than his fair share of slagging off the Radfield family, it was all part of village life and now everyone would know that he was a bloody liar and a fraud, taking his fifty pieces of silver, like some kind of Judas.
'Listen, Ronnie, why don't we go inside, and you can tell us what this is all about, then if we think the police need to know anything I'll give Lasser a ring and take it from there.'
Jenna nodded. 'It sounds fair, Grandad.'
He looked from one to the other and then he squared his shoulders, a sudden look of determination in his eyes. 'All right then, have it your way but don't say I didn't warn you.'
He stormed towards the house.
Jenna looked bemused.
'Come on, Jenna, before he has a change of heart.'
'You wouldn't say anything bad about us would you, Patrick?'
He stopped and turned, she looked suddenly younger than her years. 'I promise; I won't write anything until you've given it the go ahead.'
She smiled, though the shock was still evident in her eyes. 'It'll probably turn out to be nothing; I mean, my grandad's prone to exaggeration.' Despite her best efforts, her voice was shaking.
Fossey nodded; as they walked to the house she found her legs felt heavy, like a condemned soul walking to the electric chair.
Sitting on the huge sofa, Ronnie looked somehow diminished, as if talking about what had happened was drawing the life from him.
It was cool in the lounge, but he looked sickly, his forehead beaded with sweat, the huge picture window awash with late afternoon sunlight.
'According to the diary, it was my old man who found the men,' he ran a hand across his bald head. 'Back in the early sixties we used to keep sheep up on the moors, it was lambing time and you know how busy we get, Jenna? You're out all hours trying to make sure the ewes are OK,' he looked at her, his eyes pleading.
'I know, Grandad,' she smiled, encouraging him to go on.
'Well, apparently my father was out doing the rounds, checking if any lambs had got caught in the downpour, I mean, sheep will give birth in small gullies to get out of the wind and if they flood, then…' his voice trailed off.
'How did your father find the men, if they were underground?' Fossey asked.
Ronnie sighed and slapped his big hands onto his knees. 'My father went to Radfield, to see if there had been anyone working down the mine that day. I mean, some days depending on the weather they would work on top, you know checking the machinery, doing odd jobs.'
'So, what happened?' Jenna asked.
'Well, Radfield and my old man must have gone to have a look, because when they arrived they found the two bodies floating at the mine entrance.
'Woodman and Denney?' Fossey asked.
'Aye.'
Jenna looked confused. 'So, what's the problem, it's terrible what happened but if your father raised the alarm then surely he did the right thing?'
'Oh, he raised the alarm all right, of course it took a good couple of hours to get the police up there, in fact it was my father who ran down to the village to get them. He says that when they eventually made it back, Radfield had somehow managed to drag the men free.'
'So, it was an accident?' Fossey asked, keeping his voice neutral.
'No doubt about it, of course nowadays it would never happen but back then you could work on your own if you wanted to, so two men working down a mine was seen as more than adequate.'
'Look, Grandad, I might be missing the point here, but you haven't said anything that would lead to blackmail.'
'I know that, love,' he paused, 'as far as I can gather, that came later.'
'But…'
'Just carry on, Ronnie, in your own time.'
Jenna blushed. 'Sorry.'
'Look, I know you think I have all the answers, but the truth is I don't, a lot of this is just guesswork on my part.'
'So, what else does it say in the diary?' she asked.
Ronnie looked towards the window; the bright light was beginning to subside, the sky splashed with crimson. 'He wrote summat about a woman turning up at the farm.'
'She was looking for Sam Wickham?' Fossey asked.
Ronnie looked shocked. 'Aye, apparently it was his wife, she'd read in the paper that it was my old man who'd found the bodies.'
'But why would she think your father knew anything about her husband?' Jenna asked.
Ronnie shrugged. 'It doesn't say, it just mentions he'd been missing for three weeks and she was trying to find him. Then it all turns a bit bloody strange, my old man offered to take her up to see Radfield but according to the diary she went berserk when he suggested it.'
'Does it mention if Wickham had worked for the Radfields in the past?'
'Not that I can remember but it wouldn't have been a surprise if he had, like I said they used plenty of casual labour back then.'
'Why does it matter?' Jenna asked.
'Well, if what your great-grandfather wrote is true, then it seems an overreaction, I mean, going ''berserk'' suggests that she'd dealings with Radfield in the past and didn't want a repeat. Are you sure he didn't mention why she was so reluctant?'
'Positive.'
Fossey sunk back into the sofa and waited for Ronnie to continue.
'So, did she ever find out what happened to her husband?' Jenna asked.
Ronnie's face went blank, Fossey resisted the urge to lean forward in his chair, it was a tortuous process, though it felt as if they were reaching the point that Ronnie found difficult to talk about.
'No, love, the authorities never found him.'
'But your father did?' Fossey said.
The old farmer looked away, Jenna felt something slip in her mind, a terror of the unknown being made real. 'Is it true, did he find out what had happened to Sam Wickham?'
When he looked at her, she was horrified to see the tears sliding down his cheeks. 'It says he found Wickham at the mine…'
'But you said…'
'I don't know how he knew, Jenna, I swear on my bloody life. He just talks about returning to the mine a week later and finding a body, he says he'd been shot in the head and the body had been pushed back into the mine as far as it would go.'
'I can't believe what I'm hearing.'
'What did Radfield actually say when you went to see him?' Fossey enquired.
Ronnie's smile was full of heartache and irony. 'Oh, he wasn't shocked, it was almost as if he had been expecting me to call.'
'When was this?'
'My old man died in sixty-five, so it must have been nineteen-seventy.'
'And what did he say about the body?'
'Nothing.'
Jenna's head snapped up. 'He must have said something. I mean, you turn up and accuse him of God knows what and he says nothing!' her voice dripped contempt, her eyes were lit with a slow-burning anger.
Ronnie climbed unsteadily to his feet. 'I'm telling you what happened, now if you think I'm talking rubbish then that's up to you…'
'What do you expect me to think, I mean, do you have any idea how ridiculous you sound?'
'I…'
Jenna swiped a hand to one side cutting him off. 'Just forget it, I mean, it's obvious your father didn't go to the police when he found Sam Wickham did he? All he was concerned with was trying to blackmail Radfield.'
'But that had nowt to do with me, love.' Ronnie pleaded.
'Don't give me that, you've known about this for over forty years and kept it to yourself.'
Ronnie fumbled the tobacco tin from his pocket, his fingers ripping at the lid, a second later the tin fell to the floor spilling dark-brown tobacco over the polished oak boards. Ronnie kicked it across the floor. 'So, go on, love, eh, you tell me what I should have done?'
'What about his wife, don't you think she deserved to find o
ut what happened to her husband?'
Ronnie's face was completely devoid of colour, his chest heaving. 'Of course I do, but…'
'But you put the farm first didn't you, just like your father?'
Ronnie glared at her and then he turned and stormed from the room, snatching the cap from his pocket as he went. Jenna watched him leave; it was like watching a stranger.
74
According to the brass plaque on the wall, the barn was built by William Radfield in eighteen seventy-six, as a meeting place for the village. However, in the early nineteen eighties it had been turned into a gift shop-come-cafe, selling homemade cakes and scones. Michael Jones stood out like a hoodie at a garden party. The barn was busy with people queuing to get a slice of carrot cake, a large blackboard, stating that the soup of the day was lentil, hung behind the long counter. He could feel people giving him a wide berth as he flicked through the brochures on the revolving wire rack, after a few minutes he came across one that had a small map and a description of Radfield Manor; slipping it into his pocket, he made his way outside.
The car park was crowded with motorcycles of all shapes and sizes, people milling about looking at, and in some cases taking photographs of, the machines. Couples lay on the grass enjoying the last of the afternoon sun; a burger van was doing a roaring trade.
A copper wandered past, he looked at Michael, his eyes taking in the tracksuit and trainers, the baseball cap perched on his head. He turned away and hoisted the bag onto his shoulders before making his way across the grass that led back to the road. After a few hundred yards, he pulled the map out, then took a turn to the left, following a path that led up through the trees, according to the guide it was the shortest route to Radfield Manor.
75
Ronnie strode down the driveway, the flat cap screwed up in his shaking hands, the image of Jenna's accusing eyes seared onto his brain. She would never forgive him for this; the way she had looked at him had made that quite clear. Disappointment he could live with, but her eyes had sparkled with something that went way beyond that particular emotion.
The Needle House Page 30
