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Authors: Phil Rickman
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identifysomething odd about Coleman’s Meadow, she was now feeling personally responsible for it.
Was
obsession
too strong a word for this? Lucy Devenish, Thomas Traherne, Alfred Watkins, Nick Drake . . . a pale company of dead people with whom Jane felt—
‘
Christ!
’
The old Volvo was suddenly bucking against a wall of water, as the tractor and trailer up ahead plunged into a flooded dip in the lane where the ditch had overflowed. Merrily frantically wrestling for control as the black tide rose around the car, and the force of it, the
weight
of it, was unexpectedly frightening.
Then she was through.
But, hell, you could see how easy it would be to get trapped – tonight’s TV news screening a video clip, shot on somebody’s mobile phone, of a woman in a cassock being pulled by firefighters out of a side window of her drowning car.
She was testing her brakes, letting out her breath, as Colin on the radio suggested that, with Bishop’s Meadow already annexed by the swollen Wye, Hereford’s crucial Belmont roundabout would be closed before the evening rush hour. Colin sounding quite excited. However, as flood-relief seldom involved detectives, it seemed unlikely this was what Frannie Bliss had meant when he’d suggested that Merrily kept the radio on.
She’d called him on his mobile after Jane had caught the bus.
‘Norra good time, madam,’ Bliss said.
Not referring to her by name a signal that he was in the CID room. Understandably, Bliss had never liked to advertise a working relationship with the diocesan exorcist.
‘Any chance you could call me back, Frannie? Only wanted to ask one question.’
‘Yeh, I’ve heard that before.’
‘What would your Special Branch colleague be doing in Ledwardine?’
‘When?’
‘Last night.’ No use pretending she might’ve been mistaken; it
was
him. ‘At a parish meeting about the Coleman’s Meadow stones. He’d obviously come in after everybody else, sitting near the door, first one out.’
‘No idea, Merrily, I’m not one of his confidants. Maybe he’s bought himself a holiday cottage in Ledwardine. They’re on good money, the funny boys. Fringe benefits.’
‘I didn’t even know he was still around. Thought he’d gone back to the Met or wherever they hang out.’
‘Look,’ Bliss said, ‘I’ve gorra go. I’ll get back to you when I can, all right?’
‘Has something happened?’
‘Put your radio on,’ Bliss had said. ‘And keep it on.’
The travel update warned of serious flooding around Bromyard in the east, which could be a problem; she’d need to get over there within the next few days to pick up Lol’s Christmas present. Couldn’t leave it much longer – too much to do around the big day, and there was the delicate issue of introducing the midnight meditation on Christmas Eve.
Always a problem to alter anything in a village.
‘
And if you’re having problems in your particular part of the two counties
,’ Colin said, ‘
ring in and tell us . . . our lines are open all day, every day right through Christmas
.’
Christmas. Why did the glow always seem to fade, the closer you came to it? Why was there always some damn crisis? Peace on earth, goodwill to all—
‘—
However, as you may have heard on the news, the floods aren’t the only problem in Hereford. Police have sealed off part of the city centre in the wake of last night’s
—’
Ah . . .
‘—
shocking discovery of a human head in the ruined Blackfriars Monastery in the Widemarsh Street area. Our reporter Arabella Finch is at the scene. Bella, what’s happening now
?’
Merrily slowed, crawling into tree-fringed King’s Acre in the city’s western suburbs. The female voice came back in low quality, probably from a radio car.
‘
Colin, I’m talking to you from one of the back streets between Widemarsh Street and Commercial Road from where it’s usually possible to see the ruins of the medieval Blackfriars Monastery. But not this morning. The
Was
obsession
too strong a word for this? Lucy Devenish, Thomas Traherne, Alfred Watkins, Nick Drake . . . a pale company of dead people with whom Jane felt—
‘
Christ!
’
The old Volvo was suddenly bucking against a wall of water, as the tractor and trailer up ahead plunged into a flooded dip in the lane where the ditch had overflowed. Merrily frantically wrestling for control as the black tide rose around the car, and the force of it, the
weight
of it, was unexpectedly frightening.
Then she was through.
But, hell, you could see how easy it would be to get trapped – tonight’s TV news screening a video clip, shot on somebody’s mobile phone, of a woman in a cassock being pulled by firefighters out of a side window of her drowning car.
She was testing her brakes, letting out her breath, as Colin on the radio suggested that, with Bishop’s Meadow already annexed by the swollen Wye, Hereford’s crucial Belmont roundabout would be closed before the evening rush hour. Colin sounding quite excited. However, as flood-relief seldom involved detectives, it seemed unlikely this was what Frannie Bliss had meant when he’d suggested that Merrily kept the radio on.
She’d called him on his mobile after Jane had caught the bus.
‘Norra good time, madam,’ Bliss said.
Not referring to her by name a signal that he was in the CID room. Understandably, Bliss had never liked to advertise a working relationship with the diocesan exorcist.
‘Any chance you could call me back, Frannie? Only wanted to ask one question.’
‘Yeh, I’ve heard that before.’
‘What would your Special Branch colleague be doing in Ledwardine?’
‘When?’
‘Last night.’ No use pretending she might’ve been mistaken; it
was
him. ‘At a parish meeting about the Coleman’s Meadow stones. He’d obviously come in after everybody else, sitting near the door, first one out.’
‘No idea, Merrily, I’m not one of his confidants. Maybe he’s bought himself a holiday cottage in Ledwardine. They’re on good money, the funny boys. Fringe benefits.’
‘I didn’t even know he was still around. Thought he’d gone back to the Met or wherever they hang out.’
‘Look,’ Bliss said, ‘I’ve gorra go. I’ll get back to you when I can, all right?’
‘Has something happened?’
‘Put your radio on,’ Bliss had said. ‘And keep it on.’
The travel update warned of serious flooding around Bromyard in the east, which could be a problem; she’d need to get over there within the next few days to pick up Lol’s Christmas present. Couldn’t leave it much longer – too much to do around the big day, and there was the delicate issue of introducing the midnight meditation on Christmas Eve.
Always a problem to alter anything in a village.
‘
And if you’re having problems in your particular part of the two counties
,’ Colin said, ‘
ring in and tell us . . . our lines are open all day, every day right through Christmas
.’
Christmas. Why did the glow always seem to fade, the closer you came to it? Why was there always some damn crisis? Peace on earth, goodwill to all—
‘—
However, as you may have heard on the news, the floods aren’t the only problem in Hereford. Police have sealed off part of the city centre in the wake of last night’s
—’
Ah . . .
‘—
shocking discovery of a human head in the ruined Blackfriars Monastery in the Widemarsh Street area. Our reporter Arabella Finch is at the scene. Bella, what’s happening now
?’
Merrily slowed, crawling into tree-fringed King’s Acre in the city’s western suburbs. The female voice came back in low quality, probably from a radio car.
‘
Colin, I’m talking to you from one of the back streets between Widemarsh Street and Commercial Road from where it’s usually possible to see the ruins of the medieval Blackfriars Monastery. But not this morning. The
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