The Running Grave полностью

‘Reaney. Jordan Reaney. He was a rough sort. Been in trouble with the police.’

As Robin made a note of Jordan’s surname, the cat beside her, bored of inattention, leapt lightly off the sofa and stalked out of the room.

‘Everything got worse after Daiyu died,’ said Sheila, unprompted. ‘You know who Daiyu was?’

‘Jonathan and Mazu’s daughter,’ said Robin. ‘She drowned, didn’t she?’

‘That’s right. Cherie took her to the beach.’

‘This is Cherie Gittins?’ asked Robin.

‘That’s right. Silly girl, she was. Daiyu bossed her around.’

‘Would you happen to know what happened to Cherie after Daiyu died, Sheila?’

‘Punished,’ said Sheila. She now looked very distressed. ‘All them who were involved were punished.’

‘What d’you mean, “all of them”, Sheila?’

‘Cherie, and the ones who didn’t stop it. The ones who saw them leaving in the truck that morning – but they didn’t know! They thought Daiyu had permission! My Brian, and Dopey Draper, and little Abigail. They was all punished.’

‘Hit?’ asked Robin tentatively.

‘No,’ said Sheila, suddenly agitated. ‘Worse. It was wicked.’

‘What—?’

‘Never you mind,’ said Sheila, her small hands balled into shaking fists. ‘Least said about that… but they knew Brian was ill when they did it to him. He kept losing his balance. Jonathan had been telling him to go and pray in temple, and then he’d be better. But after they punished him, he was much worse. He couldn’t see properly, and they still made him get up and go collecting on the street… and in the end,’ said Sheila, her agitation increasing, ‘Brian was screaming and moaning. He couldn’t get out of bed. They carried him into the temple. He died on the temple floor. I was with him. He’d been quiet for a whole day, and then he died. All stiff on the temple floor. I woke up next to him and I knew he was dead. His eyes were open…’

The old lady began to weep. Robin, who felt desperately sorry for her, glanced around the room for a sign of a tissue.

‘Tumour,’ sobbed Sheila. ‘That’s what he had. They opened him up to find out what it was. Tumour.’

She wiped her nose on the back of her hand.

‘Let me…’ said Robin, getting up and leaving the room. In the small bathroom off the hall, which had an old pink sink and bath, she pulled off a length of toilet roll and hurried back to the sitting room to give it to Sheila.

‘Thanks,’ said Sheila, wiping her eyes and blowing her nose as Robin sat back down on the sofa.

‘Is that when you left for good, Sheila?’ Robin asked. ‘After Brian died?’

Sheila nodded, tears still trickling out from behind the bifocals.

‘And they threatened me, trying to stop me going. They said I was a bad person and they’d tell everyone I’d been cruel to Brian, and they said they knew I’d taken money, and they’d seen me hurting the animals on the farm… I never hurt an animal, I never did…

‘Wicked,’ she said, with a sob. ‘Wicked, they are. I thought he was so good, Jonathan. He said to me, “Brian was nearly better, Sheila, but he wasn’t pure spirit yet, and that’s why he died. You stopped him being pure spirit, shouting at him and not being a good wife.” He wasn’t nearly better,’ said Sheila, with another sob. ‘He wasn’t. He couldn’t see properly and he couldn’t walk right, and they did terrible things to him and then they were yelling at him because he hadn’t collected enough money on the street.’

‘I’m so sorry, Sheila,’ said Robin quietly. ‘I really am. I’m so sorry.’

A loud mew pierced the silence. Smoky the cat had reappeared.

‘He’s after food,’ said Sheila tearfully. ‘It isn’t time,’ she told the cat. ‘You’ll have me in trouble with Next Door if I start giving you lunch.’

Sheila seemed exhausted. Robin, who didn’t want to leave her in this state, turned the conversation gently to cats and their vagrant habits. After ten minutes or so, Sheila had regained her composure sufficiently to talk about her own cat, who’d been run over in the street outside, but Robin could tell her distress still lay close to the surface and felt it would be cruel to press for further reminiscences.

‘Thank you so much for talking to me, Sheila,’ she said at last. ‘Just one last question, if you don’t mind. Do you know when Cherie Gittins left Chapman Farm? Would you have any idea where she is now?’

‘She left not long after Brian died. I don’t know where she went. It was her fault it all happened!’ she said, with a resurgence of anger. ‘It was all her fault!’

‘Is there anything I can do for you, before I go?’ asked Robin, returning her notebook to her bag. ‘Maybe call your neighbour? It might be good to have some company.’

‘Are you going to stop them?’ asked Sheila tearfully, ignoring Robin’s suggestion.

‘We’re going to try,’ said Robin.

‘You need to stop them,’ said Sheila fiercely. ‘We were hippies, Brian and me, that’s all. Hippies. We never knew what it was all going to turn into.’