Chapter 2 #2
‘Here we are. There are lots of lovely things to take here,’ she said to Coral, putting her cardboard box down on the ground.
She squatted and dug her trowel into a clump of daisies.
She pulled gently with one hand and loosened the roots with the trowel in the other.
The plants came out quite easily, a good lot of soil clinging to a healthy tangle of roots.
Carefully, she put the clump into the box.
They worked on, the two of them, until one box was full with plants and bulbs, and then the other.
A little way away, Hester was busy with a big garden fork.
Jake kept an eye on them all. He trotted over to Hester to say hello from time to time, not wanting her to feel left out, then returned to Julia, checking in on Coral on the way.
When their two boxes were full to overflowing, Julia and Coral lugged them back to the car. Hester brought her own efforts over and covered them all with a layer of newspaper which she sprinkled with water from her water bottle to keep them cool and moist.
‘What a lot of lovely plants. That’ll make a great start,’ she said. ‘Let’s get these back, and I’ll put them straight in this afternoon. If I need to, I can come back tomorrow for more.’
‘I know it’s just a small collection of plants, but I’m so pleased we managed to save them from the diggers,’ said Julia. ‘It makes me feel I’ve done something worthwhile.’
‘Me too,’ said Coral. ‘We’re like eco warriors, aren’t we?’
‘That we are,’ said Hester, with some pride.
‘Middle-aged, retired, small-scale Cotswold eco warriors,’ said Julia.
They all laughed at that description, and rather liked it, if truth be told.
Julia glanced down at her hands, which looked as if they belonged to a hundred-year-old potato farmer who did not have running water in his home. Unlike Coral and Hester, Julia had not thought to bring her gardening gloves.
‘I’m going to see if I can find a tap and wash up a bit before we go,’ Julia said, and set off in the direction of the old building in the corner of the field.
As she got closer, she saw that a makeshift camp was being set up ready for the arrival of the construction crew.
She was pleased to find the fence unlocked.
She hoped the building was open, too, and that it had a tap.
As she neared the door to the building, skirting round the digger parked outside it, she passed a window and peered in to see a small kitchen.
A kettle and a collection of mismatched mugs sat on top of a cupboard that doubled as a kitchen counter.
There was a sink, and even a hand towel.
Julia tried the door and was pleased – if rather surprised – to find it unlocked.
She washed her hands. The water ran brown as it swirled down the drain.
Her fingernails were beyond rescue – she would have to give them a proper scrub when she got home – but she got most of the dirt off her hands.
‘Good enough for now,’ she said, wiping her palms and the backs of her hands on her gardening trousers to dry them, and wishing she had brought a tube of hand cream.
She made her way back past the small digger, which was a cheerful bright yellow and rather stocky. It seemed friendly, like something from a kids’ cartoon show. It made her smile.
As she made to leave, a curious sight on the ground beside the back wheel of the digger caused her smile to falter.
What are those shoes doing there? her brain asked itself dully.
And are they attached to feet? she wondered, confused.
They are definitely shoes, on feet, she said to herself. And those are legs…
They were indeed legs, dressed in dark blue jeans and splayed in an improbable arrangement.
As Julia edged to her right, a broad torso in a grey sweatshirt came into view.
It was similarly odd in its posture, the neck at a strange angle, one that no living person would adopt when resting or sleeping.
Taking a small and reluctant step closer, she caught sight of the head, which was face down, and the hair darkly streaked with what she feared must be blood.
The man lying next to the cheerful yellow digger was most certainly dead.
Julia’s scream brought Hester and Coral running. They were surprisingly quick, bounding over the rough terrain, with Jake alongside.
‘What happened?’ Hester said, panting towards her.
‘Are you all right?’ Coral asked, a few steps behind.
Julia, who had been rooted to the spot, staring down at the body in shock, came to her senses in time to hold up her hand.
‘Stop, don’t move!’ she said.
The two women stopped. From where they stood, the body was obscured by the digger.
‘Is there a snake?’ asked Coral, ashen-faced, her eyes wide. ‘I’m terrified of snakes.’
‘Not a snake.’
Julia gestured to them to walk round to the right.
‘My God!’ said Hester. ‘Is that a man? Is he…?’
‘He’s dead. There must have been an accident. Don’t come closer; there might be clues or something.’
Julia reached into her pocket and took out her phone. She dialled the number for Berrywick police station.
‘Do you know who it is?’ asked Coral.
‘I can’t see his face,’ said Julia. She squatted down, her left hand shaking as she held the phone to her ear.
There might be ID on the body, thought Julia, glancing down at the man on the ground as the phone line to the police rang. Lying just next to the trouser pocket was a wallet. It must have fallen out.
‘Berrywick police station,’ came a voice through the phone.
‘Cherise, it’s Julia Bird. Can I speak to Walter Farmer or Hayley Gibson please? It’s urgent.’
Tinny music drifted out of the phone’s speaker.
While she waited for one of the detectives to answer, she nudged the wallet with her toe, and to her satisfaction, it fell open.
This was probably partly because of the fact that it was bulging with cash – it looked like a stack of fifties.
There must be about six hundred quid there, she thought.
Lucky she wasn’t the thieving type. The man’s driving licence was clearly visible in its plastic-covered slot inside the wallet.
Basil Crow, she read, beneath a photograph of an unsmiling man of about fifty.
‘DC Hayley Gibson,’ came the voice in her ear.
‘Hayley, Julia. I’m at the meadow, and there’s been an accident. A man’s dead. You need to get here now.’