Chapter 20
Twenty
The approach to the Stout property was very much in keeping with the appearance of the woman herself.
‘Wipe that smile off your face,’ she warned Bryant.
‘I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist. If Stacey had taken the bet, I’d be a tenner better off right now.’
Her colleagues had known that the insufferable woman’s whispered comment about her daughter would pique Kim’s interest. And now she’d put her mind to it, she could vaguely recall a little girl present at one of their run-ins, aged nine or ten with matted blonde hair, an unwashed face and a dirty finger rammed up her nostril.
What had intrigued Kim was why the girl had got a mention at all.
Bryant’s enjoyment soon left him as they made the final ascent to the property along a narrow lane with hedgerows growing wildly on each side.
His pleasure lessened further every time a protruding branch hit the side of his car.
The road was unadopted, and various attempts had been made to fill the craters that would cause any vehicle a bouncy ride with makeshift rubble.
The so-called road led onto a courtyard with the farmhouse to the left and various outbuildings scattered around.
Everywhere she looked there was evidence of a way of life gone but not forgotten: old and rusted machinery and tools protruded from buildings or leaned against walls as though waiting for the heyday of farming to return.
A figure appeared out of the farmhouse, which looked like it hadn’t been touched in the years since Kim had last been here. It could have been mistaken for a derelict building.
‘Hello, William,’ Kim said, fully aware this was the youngest of Martha’s two boys. She calculated that William had to be early thirties while his older brother, Martin, was closer to forty. Last she knew, both sons still lived at home with their mother.
William was dressed in wellington boots, dirty jeans and a good three layers on his top half. Although no longer actively farmed, the acreage they owned still needed to be maintained.
‘How’s my mum?’ he asked with a deep frown.
‘Contrite and remorseful,’ she said.
‘Yeah, I bet she is. What’s she saying?’
‘That she shot Hubbard because he came past the oak tree.’
William took out a pack of smokes and lit one before nodding. ‘Yeah, that’d be enough for her.’
‘Did you see anything?’ Kim asked, heading towards the farmhouse. If she remembered correctly, the other side looked down onto the land they owned.
William followed her as she rounded the house.
For a minute, she forgot the grime and the dirt.
She forgot the overpowering stench of decay and the ever-present aroma of manure.
The land ahead fell away and opened up to reveal green fields, hedgerows, paddocks and grazing that stretched as far as the eye could see.
It was almost possible to forget they were on the edge of the industrialised Black Country.
Bryant sighed beside her. There was something calming about that view, and although not much of a nature lover herself, she could imagine the beauty from the changing seasons.
William said nothing, following her gaze and puffing on his smoke.
She looked closer at the fence line that separated the two properties.
There was nothing special about it. Formed of wooden posts and slats, it stood about four feet high and ran from her right-hand side off into the distance.
Panels had been haphazardly repaired on both sides using pallet wood and scraps of timber.
It was unremarkable and yet, for these families, as powerful as the Berlin Wall.
She knew if she took a few steps forward she’d be able to see the neighbouring house that faced on to the fence.
‘So, that’s the oak tree?’ she asked, following the line.
William nodded as he threw his cigarette to the ground.
‘Is it really that important to your mum that he doesn’t cross that line?’
‘Too bloody right. If I’d seen him, I’d have shot him as well.’
‘Did Martin see anything?’
‘No, he’s ill in bed. Other side of the house.’
Kim accepted his words at face value. She wasn’t looking for any other suspects. Martha had shot him and that was that.
‘She’s gonna be going away for a long time,’ Bryant said.
‘She knows that. To her it’s worth it.’
Kim turned his way. ‘Is it really though, William? Is it really worth it to keep this feud alive? Was there no way to resolve it before it got this bad?’
‘It’ll never be resolved,’ he said, looking towards the other property with pure hatred.
‘You could have just moved,’ she suggested.
‘Why should we? The Stouts have worked this land for almost two hundred years.’
Kim was unsure how much working of the land was left. The machinery she’d seen was archaic and, so far, she’d spotted a few pigs, a handful of sheep and some chickens. This was no longer a sustainable farming operation.
‘But it’s ruined so many lives,’ Bryant said.
‘You wouldn’t understand if I told you.’
‘Try us,’ Kim said. There was more going on here than she knew. The feud looked set to continue with Martha’s boys, and if she remembered correctly, the Hubbards had a son who had also no doubt resolved to continue the dispute in his family’s name.
‘Nah, not worth my time.’
‘Okay, just explain why, if it’s an unspoken rule that they don’t venture past the tree, did George Hubbard walk beyond it?’ Kim asked.
William shrugged and lit another cigarette. ‘No idea, but he got what he deserved.’
It was a question that might be answered by Hubbard’s wife, she decided.
‘What about your sister? Would she have seen anything?’
His face darkened with rage. ‘Donna is dead,’ he said, turning on his heel and moving away at speed.
This was news to her.
She caught him up. ‘Your mum mentioned her and never said she was dead. What did she die of?’
‘Making the wrong decision,’ he spat before storming into the house.