Read Online Humpty's Bones by Simon Clark - Free Book Online Page A

the grave pit to find the speaker. ‘I didn’t know you were there. You gave me a shock.’

    A man of around sixty leaned forward over the gate, invading the garden’s airspace, as it were. He stared at her with such a look of distaste that she tried to step backwards, her back coming up against the side of the pit. He clutched a checked cap in one hand. In his other, a carved walking stick. She noted that his thick woollen suit matched the gloomy meadows in that same dull green. One eye appeared weak, half closed; the other glared with such ferocity it easily made up for its partner’s deficiency. If anything, his crowning glory was a formidable nose; this fantasia of bony architecture protruded from his face in a way that drew her gaze.
    Angry, he pointed at the crater that Heather had carved from the garden. ‘I asked what you were doing?’
    ‘Pardon?’
    ‘What are you playing at? All this.’ He jabbed a finger at the riven earth.
    ‘It’s a dig... an archaeological dig.’
    ‘You can’t... you just can’t.’
    ‘This garden belongs to my aunt. She can do what she likes.’
    ‘Oh no she can’t... not if you know the land. I was born here. Grew up in that farm yonder. My family have always worked the soil here.’
    Was he suggesting that this was somehow his property? But Eden stuck to her guns. ‘This house belonged to my grandmother. My aunt inherited it.’
    ‘Ah... ’ His one good eye examined her face. ‘One of the Page family. I see it now. You all have the same jaw-lines. Hard. Very hard.’
    She couldn’t but help notice his prominent nose again. Was that a shared feature of the old farmer’s family, too?
    ‘I know Heather Laird, all right.’ he said in a way that hinted of past battles with her. ‘She’s... well, she knows what she wants.’ His single good eye burned above the bridge of his nose. A surreal sun rising over a bony mountain. ‘You’re a smart looking girl. I can tell you’ve got common sense.’ His voice adopted more friendly tones. ‘But can you take a bit of neighbourly advice?’
    ‘Depends what it is.’ Eden sounded wary.
    ‘Get out of that bloody hole. Go home!’
    ‘I’ve got work to do. I’ll have to say good-bye.’ She climbed up the short ladder to exit the pit. Return to the house, she told herself. Wait until the old grouch leaves.
    ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. But if I think something I’ve got to get it said. I can see you’re a nice lass. I only wanted to warn you... it’s for your own good. It wouldn’t please me you getting into any kind of bother.’ He shifted his stance so the walking stick took his weight.
    After the experience of the midnight intruder this made her hesitate. ‘What kind of bother exactly?’
    ‘Well... ’ he scraped the side of his nose with his fingernail. ‘You should stop digging there for a start.’
    ‘Why?’
    ‘In the country it’s not a good idea to dig too deep into the ground.’
    ‘In case you disturb something that should remain undisturbed?’ This was meant to be sarcastic. The man took it as a serious question.
    ‘Aye. Farmers and the like, if they wind up with something that’s bad they put it in the ground. They always have.’ He issued his statement with utter conviction. ‘Cattle with foot and mouth, anthrax, congestion of the lung. You bury the bodies. Same goes for contaminated feed, or when the government bans an insecticide or weed-killer. All of it goes in the ground. We pile rocks over it if need be. We keep it buried.’ He tapped the walking stick as if to drive the ferule into the turf. ‘It stays underground so it can’t do any harm.’
    ‘Thank you for the advice.’
    ‘All I wanted was to give you a friendly warning. Digging holes is dangerous.’
    Eden sensed he intended to slip away. Not so quickly, she thought, you’ve given me reasons not to dig. That isn’t the real warning, though, is it? ‘Last night someone came to the house.’
    ‘Oh?’

    ‘A