Read Online To Dream of the Dead by Phil Rickman - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Phil Rickman
Ads: Link
away and build an estate of crappy executive homes for wealthy—’
The sapphire earrings twinkled.
‘If you build houses we don’t even need,’ Jane said, ‘then you’re breaking the only link we have with the earliest origins of the village for purely commercial reasons. So we set up the Coleman’s Meadow Preservation Society—’
‘
We?
’
‘Me and my . . . ex-boyfriend.’
‘This was a pagan sort of thing, was it?’
‘Kind of.’
‘As in worshipping old gods?’
‘The sun. The moon. Yeah, I suppose old gods. But obviously it’s not
only
pagans, it’s everybody who’s concerned about preserving what’s important. We’ve had a lot of support from all kinds of people, all over the country . . . abroad, even.’
‘Old gods.’ Lensi smiled in her patronising way, like all this was so incredibly quaint. ‘It was a stone circle?’
‘Just a stone row, they think.’
‘And that’s where the dead walk, is it?’
‘It’s a big subject.’ Jane looked up as a few isolated raindrops fell. ‘Look, I’m sorry . . . if I don’t get back I’m going to miss the school bus. I need to change.’
‘Of course. Jane,’ Lensi looked down at her camera, ‘I’d like to take a few pictures of you, if I may. I don’t mean now, obviously . . .’
‘Some people reckon we’ll have floods in the village,’ Jane said. ‘Could be some pictures for you there.’
‘Ordinary local news . . . that’s not really my thing.’
‘It’s just I got a lot of stick over it last time.’
‘Because of your mother’s job? What kind of pagan
are
you, exactly, Jane?’
‘I’m sorry – why are you interested?’
Lensi shrugged. Maybe she was just looking for a coven or something to join. It happened. Happened a lot these days, apparently.Like in the old days incomers would want to know about the tennis club or the bridge circle.
And this was a set-up, wasn’t it? This woman had recognised her and followed her into the churchyard. Didn’t really give a toss about the sunrise.
‘Look, I’ve got to—Going to be late for school, OK?’
The rain came on suddenly, like all the taps in heaven had been turned on. Lensi was shielding her camera, Jane backing off towards the vicarage, dragging up the hood of her parka, then turning to run, hard against the downpour.
Hearing Lensi calling after her, but she didn’t stop.
10
Peace on Earth
T HERE WAS A sourness to it, this weather. The rain was rolling down from the Black Mountains like bales of barbed wire. It was relentless, and it sapped you.
Merrily slowed the Volvo behind a tractor and trailer. About five roads were closed, diversions in place. The route to Hereford took you through hamlets you’d forgotten existed, past flooded fields with surfaces like stretched cellophane. Was there such a condition as rain-sickness?
‘
Why do they never dredge the rivers? That’s my point
.’ Phone-in voice on Radio Hereford and Worcester. ‘
How do they expect us not to get flooded if they don’t dredge the flamin’ rivers? Can
you
tell me why, Colin?
’
Studio voice: ‘
I’m afraid I can’t, Robert, but it’s a good point and one we’ll be putting to our expert from the Environment Agency who, of course, should’ve arrived by now but he’s – yes, you’ve guessed it – been held up by the floods
.’
On days like this, virtually every programme on Hereford and Worcester turned into a flood programme. Which was useful but not the main reason Merrily was listening.
Finally showing up, with about ten minutes to spare, Jane had claimed she’d only been checking on the river.
Been away too long just for that, of course, but there was no time to go into it before the kid was off to catch the school bus, carrying a slice of yolky toast across the square. Merrily guessing she’d been over to Coleman’s Meadow to make sure nobody had come in the night and dug up the stones.
As if, having been the first in the new millennium to
The sapphire earrings twinkled.
‘If you build houses we don’t even need,’ Jane said, ‘then you’re breaking the only link we have with the earliest origins of the village for purely commercial reasons. So we set up the Coleman’s Meadow Preservation Society—’
‘
We?
’
‘Me and my . . . ex-boyfriend.’
‘This was a pagan sort of thing, was it?’
‘Kind of.’
‘As in worshipping old gods?’
‘The sun. The moon. Yeah, I suppose old gods. But obviously it’s not
only
pagans, it’s everybody who’s concerned about preserving what’s important. We’ve had a lot of support from all kinds of people, all over the country . . . abroad, even.’
‘Old gods.’ Lensi smiled in her patronising way, like all this was so incredibly quaint. ‘It was a stone circle?’
‘Just a stone row, they think.’
‘And that’s where the dead walk, is it?’
‘It’s a big subject.’ Jane looked up as a few isolated raindrops fell. ‘Look, I’m sorry . . . if I don’t get back I’m going to miss the school bus. I need to change.’
‘Of course. Jane,’ Lensi looked down at her camera, ‘I’d like to take a few pictures of you, if I may. I don’t mean now, obviously . . .’
‘Some people reckon we’ll have floods in the village,’ Jane said. ‘Could be some pictures for you there.’
‘Ordinary local news . . . that’s not really my thing.’
‘It’s just I got a lot of stick over it last time.’
‘Because of your mother’s job? What kind of pagan
are
you, exactly, Jane?’
‘I’m sorry – why are you interested?’
Lensi shrugged. Maybe she was just looking for a coven or something to join. It happened. Happened a lot these days, apparently.Like in the old days incomers would want to know about the tennis club or the bridge circle.
And this was a set-up, wasn’t it? This woman had recognised her and followed her into the churchyard. Didn’t really give a toss about the sunrise.
‘Look, I’ve got to—Going to be late for school, OK?’
The rain came on suddenly, like all the taps in heaven had been turned on. Lensi was shielding her camera, Jane backing off towards the vicarage, dragging up the hood of her parka, then turning to run, hard against the downpour.
Hearing Lensi calling after her, but she didn’t stop.
10
Peace on Earth
T HERE WAS A sourness to it, this weather. The rain was rolling down from the Black Mountains like bales of barbed wire. It was relentless, and it sapped you.
Merrily slowed the Volvo behind a tractor and trailer. About five roads were closed, diversions in place. The route to Hereford took you through hamlets you’d forgotten existed, past flooded fields with surfaces like stretched cellophane. Was there such a condition as rain-sickness?
‘
Why do they never dredge the rivers? That’s my point
.’ Phone-in voice on Radio Hereford and Worcester. ‘
How do they expect us not to get flooded if they don’t dredge the flamin’ rivers? Can
you
tell me why, Colin?
’
Studio voice: ‘
I’m afraid I can’t, Robert, but it’s a good point and one we’ll be putting to our expert from the Environment Agency who, of course, should’ve arrived by now but he’s – yes, you’ve guessed it – been held up by the floods
.’
On days like this, virtually every programme on Hereford and Worcester turned into a flood programme. Which was useful but not the main reason Merrily was listening.
Finally showing up, with about ten minutes to spare, Jane had claimed she’d only been checking on the river.
Been away too long just for that, of course, but there was no time to go into it before the kid was off to catch the school bus, carrying a slice of yolky toast across the square. Merrily guessing she’d been over to Coleman’s Meadow to make sure nobody had come in the night and dug up the stones.
As if, having been the first in the new millennium to
Similar Books
