Chapter 56
Jerry's house Tuesday 2 June 1998
'Andrew Starling, the Superintendent of Roads in Wealdshire, is still missing. He was last seen at his office in Kingsbourne four days ago. And in a bizarre twist to the story of the anti-roads demonstration at Puck's Dell, on the route of the proposed Kingsbourne Bypass, it has been revealed that Mr Starling's wife and children spent a week living with the protesters. I have Mrs Starling on the line now. Mrs Starling — is it true that you were living at Puck's Dell?'
'Yes, that's true.'
'So can we assume that you sympathise with the protesters?'
'Absolutely. They're a fine bunch of people and I fully support their actions.'
'Now we're sorry to hear that your husband has gone missing. Do you have any idea where he is?'
'No, I don't.'
'Are you concerned about him?'
'Of course I am. What a silly question.'
'Do you think his disappearance has anything to do with the fact that you were at Puck's Dell?'
'No, of course not. Why should it?'
'Is it not possible that he was embarrassed by your actions?'
'Not in the slightest. He believes that people should do what their heart tells them to do.'
'Even if it brings them into conflict with their partners?'
'I wasn't aware of any rules stating that husbands and wives have to share the same beliefs.'
'Well, no, of course not. Perhaps I could ask how your children coped living with the protesters.'
'They loved it. They enjoyed being with a group of warm-hearted and genuine people who are prepared to give up their comforts in order to try to protect the environment.'
'A final question, Mrs Starling: would you do it again?'
'Absolutely.'
'That was Mrs Penelope Starling, the wife of the Superintendent of Roads in Wealdshire, Andrew Starling, who is still missing.
We understand that police diggers have made further progress in their exploration of the maze of tunnels at Puck's Dell. Several sets of steel doors have now been removed but of the human moles there has been no sign. Until the protesters have been found and removed, no heavy equipment will be brought onto the site to begin clearing the trees.'
Jerry switched the radio off and finished pouring out coffee for everyone. 'Let's take them through to the sitting room,' he suggested. 'And make sure you all keep quiet while I'm talking to the Sheriff. No, don't just keep quiet: don't do anything to make me laugh. And we'd better shut the door and take the phone off the hook. We don't want the Sheriff wondering why we've got front-door bells in our tunnels, do we?'
He pressed the 'talk' button and asked to speak to Alan Jenkins.
Millstones, Upper Crompton, Wealdshire
Fifibelle shook herself and jumped onto Andrew Starling's armchair. For the first time in her life, she was filthy. Her mistress had just taken her for a run in Stumblefrith Forest.
So many smells.
So many holes to investigate.
So many people to wag her tail at.
So this was what she'd been missing as a pampered pooch.
Penelope saw the mud on Fifibelle's legs — and shrugged. There's more to life than worrying about dirty legs on chairs, she told herself. Anyway, she may as well have that chair now that Andrew has disappeared. I'll miss him. I really will. He says he's gone to Australia but can't tell me where. Well, I won't bother going to look for him. I've got enough going on in my life now.
The phone rang. Penelope picked it up.
'Oh yes, Mrs Clarkson . . . . . . On the radio, you say . . . . . . No, I didn't hear it. I was out with the dog . . . . . . No, I don't mind in the slightest if you feel that my actions are incompatible with membership of the Kingsbourne Ladies Golf Club . . . . . . I'm afraid you won't be able to throw me out. I've resigned.'
Penelope smiled to herself as she put the phone down and went to the kitchen to make herself a cup of tea.
Her hand hovered over the sherry bottle — but not for long. She filled the kettle and switched it on.
On the work surface was a sheet of paper that Gerard had left for her to see. He'd printed out a list of protest sites from the World Wide Web on the Internet.
New roads.
Landfill sites.
Airport extensions.
Greenfield sites.
Hmmm, murmured Penelope, where shall we spend our summer holidays?
Kingsbourne, Wealdshire
The Deputy Superintendent of Roads sat in his armchair and read Andrew Starling's letter again. It was dynamite. All work on the bypass had to be halted immediately. The price to pay if the road was built was far too high. Too many heads would roll. Thank God for those protesters, he thought. Their tunnels have given me a bit of a breathing space. If they can hold out until next weekend, we may be all right. I just hope the Sheriff doesn't do anything rash. The contractors are due to move on to Blackfriars Wood next weekend. I don't think there's much I can do about that.
The Magistrate's house, Swainshurst, Wealdshire. 1835
Jack Finch held out his hand. Linley Smythe extended his own and the two men shook hands.
'So, Jack Finch, you wish to become a convict?' asked the magistrate.
'As strange as it may seem, yes — I do.'
Mr Smythe looked at Jack for a moment. 'So be it,' he said. 'But you will need to commit a crime if I am to arrange for your arrest.'
A look of concern appeared on Jack's face. 'But . . . I have already committed a crime.'
'Indeed, you may have. But I cannot request that you are arrested for a crime for which I have no proof.'
Still concerned, Jack said, 'What would you have me do? I have no wish to commit another crime.'
The magistrate held up his arms. 'I suggest you pick my pocket.'
Somewhat bemused, Jack reached out and touched a pocket. 'I can't help wondering what you have in there that's sufficiently valuable for me to be sent to the other side of the world.' he said.
The magistrate laughed. 'Take it and see for yourself.'
Slowly, Jack reached into the pocket and drew out the only item he could find there. He held it out for Chris and Josie to see.'
'A handkerchief!' Josie cried, disbelievingly.
'Yes indeed,' agreed Mr Smythe. 'A handkerchief worth one shilling.'
'And for that he will be transported to the other side of the world?' Chris asked.
'Uh, not quite. Transportation is usually restricted only to repeat offenders.' He spun round to face the other way. 'Perhaps you should pick my other pocket now.'
Jack did as he was told. He held two handkerchiefs in his hand. 'For this I get sent to Australia? It's difficult to believe.'
'That, sir, is the law. And when you come before me at the assizes, I think I will have to give you a seven- year sentence.'
'What happens in the meantime?' Jack wanted to know.
Mr Smythe rubbed his chin. 'I will have to call a constable to detain you. In the meantime, I suggest we all sit down and enjoy some tea.'
Jack placed the handkerchiefs on the table and put his hand in his own pocket. His fingers closed around the charm that Alice had given him. He felt a power creeping up his arm. It gave him the strength that he knew he would need if he was to survive the next seven years.