Chapter 6
The planning meeting is a much quieter affair than the previous three. This time the council take no chances and the more obvious trouble-makers, mainly from outside the area are prevented from entering the Town Hall by a cordon of police brought in from the larger towns. They’re a nuisance, but without them, the village residents are not so much a voice and more a pathetic whimper. My stomach churns as Danny Marsden grins down at me from the centre of the long function table on the stage. Again I’m sitting on a chair built for a five year old but this time my embarrassment doesn’t last long. Despite all the petitions and protests, planning permission is granted in a matter of minutes.
I stand and push my way through the throng of people who have suddenly become more vocal now it’s all over. I don’t want Danny lording it over me for any longer than necessary and I slip through the double glass doors ahead of the crowd. Glad to be outside in the warm evening breeze, I drink in a few heady lungful’s of fresh sea air. In a way, I’m glad it’s all over and done with. Quite enough sleepless nights have been wasted looking for chinks in Danny’s armour and I slump back against the outside wall of the building, my eyes closed, oblivious to the excited babble from the people heading for home as they file past. I guess the bulldozers will move in quickly now to offset any last ditch attempts by more militant protesters to occupy the site.
The smell of an expensive aftershave suddenly invades my airspace and a strong hand grips my upper arm, making me jump violently. I open my eyes to see Danny Marsden. His expression appears to have lost its triumphant gleam and his dark eyes show something else, deep and unfathomable.
“Do you mind?” I murmur. “This is a private wake.” It’s hard to hate him but right now I’m pretty close.
“You’re upset.” He says seriously, stating the obvious and taking a little’ too long to remove the offending hand until I shake him off.
“Too right I’m upset,”
“It’s progress.” He says. “Can’t you see this positively? Is it so impossible for you to accept that this is the way it’s going to be?”
“You have no feelings at all have you?” I reply.
“Look, I promise you, things will be better now.” He adds. “There’ll be children’s play areas, a modern library and it will be all so much closer. Now you will have a huge supermarket right on your doorstep, with all the advantages of lower prices and more choice. No more relying on rip off corner shops. Surely even you can see the value in that?”
“No I can’t.” I snap. Of course, the truth is I can see the benefits, but in comparison with what the woods mean to me, they pale away to nothing. “You’re quite happy to destroy a piece of our history and a local beauty spot. Without a bit of colour, this place will have nothing to distinguish it from anywhere else in case you hadn’t noticed. Just send the bulldozers in. Isn’t that your answer to everything? If it doesn’t move, pollute the atmosphere or make a fat profit, it must be useless.”
“That’s not true.” He says. But I ignore him and the attention we’re getting from passers-by.
“And do you know what makes me really sick?” I add.
He grimaces, knowing he has to stay and listen, “You’re just going to move on elsewhere and do the same thing to some other poor sods. It’s a wonder you can sleep at night.”
He shakes his head sadly, a look of near defeat on his face. “The people will get used to it in a few weeks. I’ve seen it happen often enough.” He says. “When they see the difference the place makes to their lives and what’s in it for them, they’ll love it.”
“What’s in it for them? You think they’re all the same as you don’t you? If you just used your eyes you would see they aren’t the same as you at all and never will be.”
He paused, knowing further argument will be a waste of breath. “Can’t we just put our difference of opinion to bed for a while? This is getting us nowhere. Look around you for a minute. You’ve got all this and you’re worried about a square mile of some ancient local wood that’s more of an eyesore than a place of natural beauty.”
I bite my lip. Danny’s right on that point too. The place has changed little by little, like some unloved and uncared for little garden. Time has stood still in its airless interiors for years and the place has suffered because of it. People from outside the area have taken to using the place as a rubbish dump and once the word travelled, it really became an eyesore in parts.
He watches me as I descend into the grim mood that has come to fit my like an itchy shirt and I walk away from him. But he follows and takes my arm.
“It’s your past isn’t it?” He says. “That’s what upsets you so much. It’s not Becmead Wood at all that’s about to be bulldozed, it’s your darn childhood isn’t it?”
I glare at him but he continues. “Becmead Wood is just a happy memory to you. A childhood memory and that’s all. Why can’t you leave it at that? You can’t live in the past, whether you like it or not. Nothing ever stays the same.”
I think about my Father and the happy times we’d had there. The picnics, the endless games of hide and seek, his teaching me to ride my first bike. And then I thought about him ill, thin and dying.
“No. I guess not.” I manage, trying to stay rational as I choke down a king size lump in my throat.
His expression becomes very serious. “I used to play in an old world war two Anderson shelter in the garden of where we used to live. I suppose I must have been five or six at the time. The place smelled awful, had mildew and damp running down the walls and all sorts of interesting six and eight legged life forms crawling around. I spent so much time down there it became more of a home to me than my parents’ large comfortable house.” He pauses. “I didn’t stop crying for a week when my Father decided to have the place ripped out of the ground and turned into a pond for his bloody koi carp. It felt as though my own arm had been pulled off and I still hate pond fish to this day.”
I stare at him, unable to believe this man actually has human feelings and he grins as if sensing the slight shift in my mood, before adding. “I think about the place even now, at the age of twenty four, I still want to be there. But I’m old enough to realise it’s a memory, a childhood memory and that’s all. If that place happened to appear in front of me right now I’d probably be too afraid to go in there at all in case it collapsed around me or some horrible big spider fell on me.”
“Spider.” I repeat. “You, you are afraid of spiders.”
He nods slowly. “And I got news for you kid; they don’t have to be big spiders either.”
Stunned for a moment, I don’t know what to say and he dives into my confusion with a question that really throws me. “Will you come around to my place tomorrow evening?”
I frown up at him.
“It’s all right,” he says. “We’ve invited the whole village to a party we’re having. Really it’s just an opportunity to smooth over any remaining sore feelings and to discuss any last minute queries.” He waits and I notice him lick his lower lip, betraying nerves. “It would mean a lot to me if you were there too.”
“Why?”
“Oh I don’t know. I just like you being around.”
I pull a face. “You mean if the villagers see me up at your place smiling and nibbling little sausages on sticks, they’ll think I’ve joined the enemy too, so everything must be all right. You’re a sly dog Danny Marsden.”
He raises his hands in surrender. “No Cathy, It’s not like that at all. Would it make much difference at this stage if you showed up or not, honestly?”
“No, I suppose not.” I concede.
“Well then, can I take it you’ll be there?”
“I’ll come.” I sigh.
He brightens immediately. “Seven PM tomorrow night then?”
The next morning I oversleep. I don’t like losing and I’ve been awake for most of the night trying to think of a last ditch plan that migh
t save the wood from Marsden and his wrecking crew. I know I’m spending way too much time plotting and scheming and it’s all becoming obsessive, but I don’t care. Sleep and valuable study time have been sacrificed to the cause and I’m beginning to suffer tiredness because of it. The Hospital Doctor’s advice about plenty of rest and relaxation has fallen by the wayside and it won’t be long before my studies start to suffer too.
The alarm clock sounds again and I groan at the notion of having to rise and face the day. All I want to do for a change is sleep for another two or three hours, but that’s out of the question and I slap Mickey Mouse into submission as the infuriating rodent screeched for the fifth time that it’s 7.30 am and I peer at his ridiculously happy expression as he nods out the seconds. I roll out of bed before any more depressing thoughts could put more of a downer on the day.
Molly’s gone up North for a long overdue visit to one of her married sons and she’s only agreed to the two day break on the understanding that I will look after the ARC and follow her written instructions to the letter. The first item on her long list has already been violated and the likelihood of getting the place open and ready for business by 8am looks to be an impossible target as I find it well nigh impossible to ram my sleep starved brain into first gear. I would love to crash back into bed but promises have been made, terms have been agreed to and trying to wriggle out of it is unthinkable. Besides, the animals have to be fed and their cages cleaned out even if the residents are living on borrowed time. I still have to make their lives as comfortable as possible while I still can. An excited buzz perks me up when I realise I will be on my own for the first time in two years unless the standby vet had to be called in to deal with an emergency. With some trepidation, I leave the house at around seven fifty and arrive at a little past the hour, breaking my own personal best time for the journey and feeling a little guilty as I unlock the door. Molly’s bound to find out of course. The woman has a sixth sense about such things.
Two large parrot cages, donated the night before, dominate most of the floor space and although sound, with plenty of life left in them, they’re covered in rust. The disgusting black and white lumps covering the floors look as if they’ve been slow baked into the metal and I know they’re going to take hours to clean but they’ll be useful enough when the time comes. There are never any parrots or other exotic birds at the centre, but the cages will be modified to accept other species. The job has to be done but it will wait until after breakfast.
Skipping supper the night before coupled with the exhilarating bike ride has left me feeling very hungry and after I’ve fed and watered the animals I rummage through the cupboards, happy to find some packet soup and a loaf of bread which I eat sitting outside in the weak sunshine on an old canvas deckchair. It’s still cold but the air is sweet and clean at this hour and I try to take my fill of it whenever I can.
After I’ve eaten, I take a slow walk towards my favourite part of the wood and the sickening sound of men operating heavy machinery becomes louder the closer I get. I stay out of sight amongst the dank vegetation near the top of the slope to watch them work. Relieved to note Danny is not among the half a dozen bodies that appear to be digging a deep narrow ditch, following spray painted ground markings which surrounded the entire dell and a good part of the lower ground too.
Clearly this was is for the fencing that will have to be erected to seal off the area from trespassers and at the rate the mechanical digger tears up the earth, it won’t take them long to ring the whole site. Staying undercover, I move on into the dell and out through the rear end. The place seems darker than ever before, as if the magic inside has already begun to die. Rain had been forecast for the early afternoon and the sun is still too low in the sky to trigger any trick light show and it seems as though I will never get the chance to see the magic ever again. Unable to stop the horrible feeling of doom gnawing at my insides, I march quickly back down to the ARC to find Avril hovering around the door, a worried look etched into her thin face.
“What are you up to?” I demand by way of greeting.
“I might ask you same thing.” She replies. “You look as though you’ve seen a ghost.”
“It feels that way to me too.” I shrug sadly. “They’ve already started work on the site and by this time tomorrow, we won’t even be able to get in over there.”
Avril sighs and throws an arm around me, but I get little benefit from it as she’s clearly in an agitated state herself and constantly peers all around her.
“Do you think I could hide out inside for a while?” She says, when she catches my probing look.
“Not until you tell me what you’re up to?”
The blonde grimaced. “It’s old Farmer Barrett. I’m sure that guy never sleeps.”
I sigh, before unlocking the door and ushering her inside.
She continues. “Alan’s got this new metal detector. Much better than the old one and he was desperate to put it through its paces. We were only searching for Roman trinkets in the old man’s freshly ploughed field, but he must have spotted us and came out on the hunt with his shotgun. Alan’s trying to lead him off in a false direction, but I’m terrified in case the senile old arse comes down here.”
“Of all the places to look for coins you have to pick one of old Barrett’s fields.”
“Oh have a heart Cathy." Avril begs. "You know a ploughed field is the best place to look for goodies.”
“Yeah I do, but not one of his ploughed fields.”
“No.” The girl whispers. “Still, I’ll make us a cup of tea if you like. Look, I’ve got all the grub Alan brought with him too. We can eat the lot before he comes back.”
“Love’s young dream.” I laugh, before adding. “Although the offer is tempting, I’m afraid harbouring fugitives’ costs more than that. Molly wants these cages cleaned and fit for active duty by the time she gets back.”
Avril’s face creases into a horrified mask. “Why? They’re quite disgusting. For God’s sake just throw them away?”
“We can’t do that.” I reply. “They’re needed and besides, someone thought enough of us to donate them, so the least we can do is put them to use.”
Avril’s a long way from convinced. “How do you expect me to get the rust off them?”
I rummage through the drawers of Molly’s old teacher’s desk. “Use this.” I say, handing over a large flat bladed screwdriver.
“You mean... I’ve got to scrape the bloody things?”
“Yes, we’ll do one each. How does that sound?”
“No.” Avril announced. “I can’t do it. I won’t do it. What about my nails? And this is a new outfit you know. I’ll get it filthy. Whenever you’re around, I get filthy.”
I walk to the door and open it, taking an exaggerated breath as if to call out for the marauding farmer and the blonde comes to life instantly, leaping out of Molly’s chair as if she’s been electrocuted.
“All right, you win.” She says.
I watch her rummage around in the sink cupboards until she finds a couple of different coloured rubber gloves and a rain hat. Stifling the laughter welling up in me, I wonder just how Avril will cope with married life when her time comes. Knowing her as I do, she’ll have staff to do all the dirty jobs.
“How long have you been waiting out there.” I ask, settling down to work beside her.
“About half an hour. Why, you didn’t see the old fool did you?”
“No I think you’re safe for now. Don’t worry, I’ll look after you.”
Avvie pulled a face. “Kill me with work more like. At least with Barrett I’d have a swift end.”
We’re soon chatting and laughing about the previous week’s fiasco over at Fulton Manor and Avril insists on being told everything from the moment the dogs had started barking. She grows comically wide eyed as I finish.
“Want to run that by me again?” She gasps.
“No.” I snap. “It w
as hard enough to explain it the first time, and you can keep scraping while we talk you know.”
“Well?” She demands, after working hard for all of fifteen seconds.
“Well what?”
“Well..he must fancy you. Why else would he go to all that trouble with the Police and the Hospital? Are you going to see him again?”
“Of course not.” I cringe. “Not in that way. Don’t you see what he’s doing? The man’s a shark. He’s only being friendly until he gets what he wants.”
“And what does he want?” She grins.
“Not what you think.” I say. “All he’s interested in getting his big mitts on round here are this place and the wood. He must realise any last resistance is centred on me. The older folks are from a different time, they still believe in doing things the proper way and that’s what people like Danny Marsden count on. He knows full well, it’s down to me and whoever I can get hold of to join the fight. If he can keep me smiling, he’ll have one less worry.”
“But how do you know that?” Avril sighed. “You’re hardly the most experienced girl in the world when it comes to men are you? Especially men like him.”
“What do you mean, men like him?”
“Oh you know, rich, good-looking, powerful, well-bred. Want me to go on?”
“No I don’t,” I snap. “His wealth and power don’t impress me one little bit. For me the only thing that counts is what’s underneath.”
Avvie smirks. “And what do you reckons underneath?”
“I don’t know and I really don’t care.” I reply flatly, furiously scraping the metal bars on my cage until the friction heat generated is enough to fry an egg. “As far as I’m concerned, he’s just not my type. Now keep cleaning.”
We talk on until Alan pokes his head around the door sheepishly, the sudden shadow cast across the floor makes us both jump.
“Hi Cath,” he grins, sliding inside after a furtive scan of the woods.
“Where the hell did you get to.” Avril screeches. “I thought he must have shot you.”
“Give me credit for something Avvie.” He sighs, flopping into Molly’s chair. “I think I’m a bit quick for Barrett.”
She gets to her feet to peer through the window.
“Don’t worry,” He adds. “He’s given up on the search, but all the same I’d appreciate laying low for a little while just in case. That’s all right with you Cath isn’t it?”
I grin, friendly before pressing my screwdriver into his hands and simply pointing at the cage I’d been working on. Unlike Avril, Alan knows better than to argue or even ask questions and he sets to work with a defeated sigh.
“I’ll make you both some tea now.” I say, happy to have got the easy job for once. “If only Molly could walk in that door right now and see you two in action.”
I ignore the dark looks I get by way of reply and when it’s done, Avril slides her lithe frame up onto the corner of Molly’s desk, accidentally knocking Alan’s canvas rucksack to the floor. The contents spill out and I bend down to pick up what looks like small change. “What’s all this?”
Alan began pointing, his boyish enthusiasm chasing away any fatigue. “That one’s Edwardian I think. These are Victorian but the rest are mostly Roman. Look, Romulus and Remus on that one. It should clean up lovely.”
I scrub judiciously with a fingernail at the filth encrusted metal until two figures become clearer. “Oh yes, that’s nice,” I say, genuinely awed to be holding something that’s around two thousand years old. “Are they worth anything?”
“Not really.” He says. “A few quid for the lot of them. They’re not as uncommon as most people think. Still, should be worth the price of an evening down the pub.”
Avril punches the air and whoops at this news and I frown at her. “Don’t forget your liver?”
She pulls a face. “Never eat the stuff.”
Alan rummages in a side pocket of the bag. “The best thing I found is this.” He passes me a large tapering object that could be anything. “I’m going to get it checked out properly by Mr Graham at college. I’m sure it’s a Roman sword, but I can’t be sure. He’s the expert.”
I hold it up to the light and despite the filth I realise it’s a quality item. I can make out coloured stones in the hilt and I run my fingers over them for a moment until suddenly an idea crashes into my mind with all the force of a tidal wave, making my head spin as the wonderful possibilities it uncovers are laid bare. I gasp, holding the rusty blade like I’ve just found the Holy Grail.
“Are you all right Cath?” Alan says. “It’s not your legs playing up again is it?”
He looks nervously at Avril, but the girl has picked up on the vibration in the air. “Well come on Cath,” she grins. “Don’t keep it to yourself. You’ve had some kind of revelation and I want to know what it is..like now.”
I ignore her as I aim my question at Alan.
“Do you normally take all the stuff you find to Mr Graham?”
“Well yes,” he replies. “For me the thrill is finding it, after that I tend to lose interest.”
“Mmmm, tell us about it!” Avril mutters, causing him to blush as he continues. “He’s got a room full of it over there waiting to be checked by the brains trust from the London Museums. Although when they’ll get around to it is anyone’s guess.”
I hardly dared think further in case my racing thoughts crashed into some insurmountable snag. “Does he know exactly what’s there?”
Alan laughs. “Mr Graham, are you kidding. Most of the time he doesn’t know he’s there himself. He’s your classic absent minded professor.”
I smiled then as the plan cemented itself into my mind. It was beautiful. “Do you two still want to save this place from Danny Marsden?”
“Of course we do.” Avril replies. “But the meetings are over. The hard hats are already ripping the place up over there so what’s the point fighting now? I’m not chaining myself to any damp trees either so forget it. I’ve got weak kidneys.”
“Alan,” I say, ignoring the girl’s whining. “Can you get hold of a few good large pieces of Roman stuff? Stuff like this?”
“Sure,” Alan replies slowly. “But if you’re trying to raise money for the cause it’s not worth...”
“Think.” I say, grabbing him by his stick like upper arms. They feel about as wide as Danny Marsden’s wrists. “If the wood is full of Roman artefacts they can hardly bulldoze it can they?”
Alan’s confusion is replaced with a massive smile.
“But it’s not full of Roman artefacts is it?” Avril sighs.
“No Avril, it’s not,” Alan giggled. “But as soon as I get back from college with a nice big bagful of stuff like this, it will be... Won’t it?”
“That’s brilliant Cath.” She howls when the penny finally drops.
“I’ll get onto it right away.” Alan muses, already pacing the floor as he works out the engineering side of my plan. “I doubt we’ve got much time left though. Can I borrow your bike for an hour?”
He returns with a potato sack full of mostly filth encrusted objects that are impossible to identify. We stack them all up on the draining board as Alan outlines the ideas he’s thought up during his cycle to the other side of town. Avril’s moaning falls on deaf ears when she’s ordered to help scrub it all with pot scourers.
“Why the hell are we cleaning this stuff?” She wails as another rusty wave splashes over her new jeans. “It’s supposed to be two thousand years old. Shouldn’t it look disgusting?”
“Yeah,” Alan replies. “But we want it all to be noticeable enough to find. Not much point going to all the trouble of planting it if everyone fails to spot it.”
Avril nods ruefully, clearly wishing she was elsewhere as she examines a chipped nail.
The cleaning takes two hours and for once the animals have to take second place as they watch proceedings intently from their wire meshed homes.
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