The Lost Ones Read online

  With a practised ease that accentuated Tom’s anxiety, Greenie talked about the devastating effect the quarry would have on the diverse wildlife that found sanctuary on Maglin Hill. And how Middlebury Stone’s plans to extract fifty thousand tonnes of sandstone a year for the next five years would not only irrevocably ruin the immediate landscape, but also impact on the wider area through noise, dust and traffic pollution. As his allotted time drew to an end, he made a final passionate plea. ‘I beg you all, in our modern world there are so few places left like Maglin Hill where we can truly connect with our ancient landscape. Please don’t allow it to be destroyed for the sake of senseless profit-mongering.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Wright,’ said Councillor Brooks. As Greenie returned to his seat, the councillor turned his gaze on Tom. ‘I now ask Tom Jackson to speak.’

  Fighting down an urge to flee, Tom made his way to the front of the room.

  ‘Three minutes,’ the councillor reminded him.

  Tom looked at the room and wished he hadn’t when he saw all the eyes staring expectantly back.

  ‘Ladies and—’ Tom’s words caught on a nervous swallow. He cleared his throat and continued, ‘Middlebury’s economy has suffered in recent years, just as the national economy has suffered. Jobs are needed that will bring long-term benefits to our area. Middlebury Stone’s proposal for the extraction of sandstone from the existing Maglin Hill quarry will be worth millions to the local economy. And it’s not only jobs that are needed. We need new houses too. Middlebury is traditionally a quarrying area. For hundreds of years quarrying has been a part of our way of life. Without stone we can’t build new houses that preserve the unique character of our area. We are, of course, acutely aware of people’s concerns, and we fully support the recommended conditions for planning approval that address those concerns.’

  Tom’s voice grew in confidence. He’d been building towards this moment for so many months. Now he felt a sense of release as the words flowed from him. He described how screening and landscaping would minimise the visual impact of the quarry. And how stone saws would be used only within a shed, so noise levels would not exceed acceptable limits. He conceded that there would be increased traffic, but pointed out that the comings and goings of lorries would be restricted to daytime hours. Nearing the end of his speech, he felt sufficiently at ease to deviate from his notes.

  He met the gaze of each councillor. ‘Members of the committee, the previous speaker appealed to your hearts, I’m appealing to your common sense. I wouldn’t be standing here if I didn’t believe the economic benefits of our proposal far outweighed the environmental impact.’

  Relief washed through Tom as he returned to his seat, but it was tempered by the knowledge of what was to come next. Eddie patted his shoulder, whispering, ‘You nailed it.’

  Tom tried to ignore the hammering of his heart as Councillor Brooks said, ‘The committee now has the opportunity to debate the application before we go to a vote.’

  An elderly woman whose desk sign identified her as COUNCILLOR HALL was the first to speak. ‘It’s difficult,’ she began. ‘I have sympathy for the environmentalists, but the fact is this area is in need of jobs. With that in mind, I think this is something that will be good for Middlebury.’

  Another councillor spoke up. ‘As Councillor Hall said, it’s difficult. We’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t. However, I’m going to move for rejection of this application.’

  Tom clenched his teeth as the councillor continued, ‘I believe the negative consequences of approving it will outweigh the positive. The potential impact on the sensitive landscape of Maglin Hill is unacceptable. As too is the impact the development will have on tourism.’

  ‘Does anybody else have anything to add?’ asked Councillor Brooks. His enquiry was greeted with silence. ‘In that case, let’s move to the vote. The planners’ recommendation is approval. All those in favour.’ Ten councillors raised their hands. ‘All those against.’ One hand was raised. ‘Abstentions.’ Councillor Brooks put up his own hand. ‘That is approved.’

  A huge grin split Eddie’s beard. Tom leaned his head back and let out a breath that came from the bottom of his lungs. It had hurt when Amanda didn’t say, I love you. But it was nothing compared to how he would have felt if he hadn’t heard those other three words. That is approved. They seemed to echo in his head like a validation, not only of all the family time he’d sacrificed in recent months, but of everything he’d ever done.

  Carl ‘Greenie’ Wright sprang to his feet, yelling, ‘Fix! It’s a fix!’ He thrust a finger at Councillor Brooks. ‘You’re Tom Jackson’s father-in-law. How can you make an impartial decision?’

  ‘I strive to always be impartial,’ the councillor responded calmly. ‘But in this case I accepted that might not be possible. And so I abstained.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have been involved at all.’

  ‘I’m Leader of the Council.’

  ‘Exactly!’

  ‘We’ve listened to you speak, Mr Wright, and we’ve made our decision. That decision is fair and final.’

  Greenie screwed up his face contemptuously. ‘You people wouldn’t know fair if it bit you on your fat arses.’

  ‘I think perhaps it’s time you left. Or do I have to summon the police to remove you?’

  ‘You won’t get away with this, I promise you that.’

  ‘Yeah, go on, piss off,’ Eddie said quietly but vehemently as Greenie strode towards the door. ‘And keep going until you’re out of our county.’

  Greenie glared at him. ‘This isn’t your county. It belongs to all of us and we’ll do whatever’s necessary to protect it from you and your kind.’

  Eddie laughed and said to Tom, ‘Some people just can’t accept losing.’

  ‘Oh, we’ve not lost,’ said Greenie. ‘This is only the beginning.’

  ‘We’ll see about that,’ Eddie threw after him.

  ‘Why did you have to provoke him like that?’ said Tom. ‘Now we’re never going to get him out of the way without a fight.’

  ‘It was always going to come down to a fight. The guy’s a fanatic.’

  With the drama over, Councillor Brooks brought the proceedings to a close. As the room emptied, he approached Tom and Eddie. The serious mask had dropped away, revealing a broad smile. ‘Congratulations.’

  Tom shook his father-in-law’s hand. ‘Thanks, Henry.’

  ‘Yeah, thanks for all your help, Mr Brooks,’ Eddie said with a slightly deferential air.

  ‘What help?’ Henry Brooks’s eyes sparkled with a decidedly mischievous light. ‘I dare say that’s more excitement than this lot have seen in a very long time. They’ll be talking about this meeting for years.’

  Outside, the drumming started up again, accompanied by angry chants of ‘Shame on Middlebury Council!’ and ‘Fix!’

  ‘Perhaps they’re heating up a big pot to boil us in,’ Tom joked gloomily.

  Eddie laughed. ‘Nah, we’ve no worries on that score. They’re all veggies.’

  A policeman entered the council chamber. ‘It’s Constable Foster, our friendly town bobby,’ Eddie said in a tone that suggested the police weren’t his favourite people.

  ‘How’s it going out there, Mike?’ enquired Henry.

  ‘It’s getting a bit rowdy, Mr Brooks. They could turn nasty if provoked. I think it would be best if you left by the back door.’

  Eddie scowled. ‘I’m not sneaking away like I’ve done something to be ashamed of. This is our fucking town not theirs. Excuse the language, Mr Brooks, but it makes me so mad.’

  ‘Well, it’s up to you,’ said Constable Foster, ‘but I can’t guarantee your safety.’

  ‘It’s not us you should be worried about.’

  ‘I’m warning you, Eddie, if I see you taking any potshots I’ll have no choice but to arrest you.’

  Eddie spread his hands. ‘I won’t lay a finger on them if they don’t lay a finger on me.’

  As Constable Foster returned ou
tside, Eddie rubbed his hands together in anticipation. ‘Right, let’s go face the music.’

  ‘Maybe we should leave by the back door,’ Tom suggested.

  Eddie wrinkled his nose as if he’d smelt something sour. ‘Tom Jackson wussing out of a fight. I never thought I’d see the day.’

  ‘I’m not wussing out of anything,’ bristled Tom. He brought his voice back under control. ‘We’ve won. Why risk messing everything up?’

  ‘I’ll tell you why, I’d rather have lost than let those arseholes think I’m scared of them. So are you coming or what?’

  With a sigh, Tom nodded. Eddie’s grin returned. ‘Thanks again, Mr Brooks. And don’t worry, this quarry is going to be a huge success.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not worried about that.’ Henry gave Tom a glance. ‘I know you’re going to do this town proud.’

  Tom resisted the urge to lower his head under the weight of expectation in his father-in-law’s eyes. Eddie headed for the door. Tom made to follow, but Henry said, ‘Tom, can I have a word alone?’

  ‘I’ll wait in the hallway,’ said Eddie.

  ‘Your friend’s got a real temper on him,’ Henry observed as the door swung shut.

  ‘Eddie’s always been the same.’ Tom tried to keep his tone light. ‘I used to call him Mr Hothead when we were kids.’

  ‘You’re not a child any more. You’re a married man with children of your own.’

  I’ve been a father for fifteen years and I’ve never dodged my responsibilities, Tom felt like retorting. But as he always did at such moments – of which there had been more than he cared to remember – he held his silence for Amanda and the kids’ sake.

  Henry’s voice dropped almost to a whisper. ‘I called in a lot of favours to make this happen. Don’t give me cause to regret it, Tom.’

  Tom reflected that it was just like Henry to try to claim all the credit. The descendant of a long line of local landowners, Henry Brooks was a powerful man within the small community. Undoubtedly his influence had played a part in the application’s success. But Tom knew, or at least told himself, that his own hard work had been the deciding factor. Besides, he’d never asked for any favours from Henry on this or any other occasion. So he was damned if he was going to fawn with gratitude.

  Henry’s voice returned to its usual loud, overly cheerful volume. ‘So what are my daughter and two gorgeous grandchildren up to today?’

  ‘They’re out walking in Harwood Forest. I was about to phone and give them the good news.’

  ‘Well, don’t let me stop you.’

  Tom took out his phone and dialled Amanda. He got through to voicemail. ‘I think she’s out of signal.’

  ‘If you and Amanda want to go out and celebrate tonight, Cathy and I would be happy to look after the kids.’

  ‘Thanks, but I think Jake’s old enough to babysit his sister.’

  Disappointment flickered in Henry’s eyes, but he said, ‘You’re right. And the responsibility will do him good.’

  Tom felt a little bad – not for snubbing Henry’s offer, but for depriving Jake and Erin of time with their grandparents. Regardless of his resentment at his father-in-law’s interfering manner, there could be no doubting the old man’s devotion to his grandchildren. Rarely a week went by when Henry and Cathy didn’t come calling with presents for the kids. More than once, Tom had asked Amanda to tell her parents to stop spoiling them. To which she always replied, ‘They’re grandparents. That’s their job.’ But to Tom it wasn’t quite that simple or innocent. Rightly or wrongly, he’d come to regard the presents as a subtle dig at him, a constant reminder of what they could and he couldn’t easily afford.

  But starting today all that was going to change.

  ‘You’d better get going. Eddie’s waiting,’ said Henry.

  ‘Aren’t you coming?’

  The twinkle returned to Henry’s eyes. ‘Not that way, I’m not. I have absolutely no problem with using the back door.’

  Both men left the council chamber. The drumming and chanting reverberated like a battering-ram against the front door. ‘Good luck,’ said Henry, continuing towards the rear of the building.

  ‘OK, let’s have some fun,’ said Eddie.

  ‘No fucking around,’ warned Tom. ‘Let’s just get to our cars.’

  Taking a deep breath, Tom reached for the door handle. As the door opened, the noise swelled to a fever pitch. ‘Shame! Fix! No quarry! No to Middlebury Stone!’ The environmentalists, pagans and locals had mingled into a little sea of irate faces. Greenie stepped from the crowd, his voice booming through a megaphone, ‘Here they come! The men who want to rape our land for profit!’

  Tom descended the steps with his head lowered. Eddie smiled and waved as if he was accepting an award. The crowd held its ranks as if it wasn’t going to let them pass. Constable Foster pushed a path through it with the two men at his heels. Tom found his way blocked by Greenie. The self-proclaimed eco-warrior thrust the megaphone in his face, shouting loud enough to make his ears ring, ‘We will never give up!’

  Tom stepped around Greenie, who stuck out a sly foot. As Tom tripped over it, he caught hold of Greenie’s wrists. Both men went down heavily and scuffled on the ground. There was a tearing sound as Constable Foster dragged them apart.

  As if displaying a trophy from a defeated enemy, Greenie held aloft the pocket he’d ripped off Tom’s jacket. The crowd cheered.

  ‘You saw what he did,’ Tom said as Constable Foster guided him away. ‘He tripped me. That’s assault.’

  ‘All I saw was you pulling Mr Wright to the ground. I can try to find out if anyone saw anything.’

  Tom swiped the offer away. It was hardly likely any of the protestors would back him up. Boos and jeers followed him to his car. Eddie chuckled and shook his head at Tom. ‘I thought you said no fucking around.’

  ‘That Greenie’s a piece of work. The police are going to have real problems shifting him from the quarry.’

  ‘Then let’s not depend on the police. I know some Geordies who’d be more than happy to send him scarpering.’

  ‘No. We have to do this right.’

  ‘So you keep saying, Tom, but—’

  ‘This isn’t up for discussion, Eddie. Everything has to be done legal and proper or we could lose—’

  ‘Oh, Jesus, what now?’ interrupted Eddie, looking past Tom.

  The leader of the druids was approaching. Tom half expected her to take a swing at him with her staff, but she planted it on the cobbles and held out a sheet of black paper. He warily accepted it.

  ‘Bloody weirdo,’ Eddie said loud enough for the woman to hear as she solemnly returned to her companions.

  There was spidery silver writing on the paper: ‘Thomas Jackson & Edward Reed’. Underneath was a short verse.

  We worship,

  The Gods of Light,

  We practise,

  Peace not might,

  We know whatever we do to thee,

  Will come back to us times three,

  By this Law that holds universally true,

  We take the consequences of our actions,

  And so must you.

  Eddie recited the last two lines and asked, ‘What does that sound like to you?’

  ‘A warning.’

  ‘My thoughts exactly.’

  Eddie made to rip up the sheet, but Tom said, ‘Don’t. I want to show it to Amanda.’

  ‘That’s not a good idea. This’ll freak her right out.’

  ‘You’re probably right, but there’s another reason we should hold onto this. If they try anything funny, we’ve got evidence that they threatened us.’

  ‘They’re not going to try anything funny. They haven’t got the balls.’ Eddie pointed to the environmental activists. ‘They’re our biggest problem. I’m going to head over to the office, get cracking with organising the eviction. All legal and proper, of course.’ The words came with a sardonic upward tilt of his lips. ‘You coming?’

  ‘Maybe later.’ Tom ind
icated his torn jacket. ‘I need to get changed.’

  As Eddie headed for his car, he turned to shake a triumphant fist at Tom.

  Tom shook a fist back, but with little conviction. He didn’t feel particularly triumphant. He felt strangely flat and drained. His gaze returned to the sheet of paper. He quickly folded it into his pocket and reached for the car door.

  DAY 1

  9.47 A.M.

  Seth Wheeler lay beneath a cream cloth canopy on a four-poster bed. Parallel to the bed was a floor-to-ceiling window with a dressing table in front of it. A wall-mounted flat-screen television was tuned into the local radio station. An open door led to a spacious en suite. The room was bigger than Seth needed and cost more than he could afford. But after reading an article in the previous day’s Middlebury Gazette headlined ‘Demonstrations Set for Controversial Planning Meeting’, he’d wanted a window overlooking the market square. The net curtains were pulled aside so he had only to turn his head to get a direct view of the Town Hall. Right then there was nothing kicking off in the square, so he was leafing through a well-thumbed scrapbook.

  Faded newspaper articles were pasted into the book’s crowded pages. The margins were crammed with doodlings of flowers, dogs, cats, birds, stick figures, houses, suns, moons and stars. The newspaper headlines jarred incongruously with the childish scrawls. ‘Town in Shock after Double Murder’ ran one dated Wednesday, 26 July 1972. Seth’s pale, ice-chip eyes skimmed over the ensuing article, although he’d read it so many times in the past few days he could have recited it from memory.

  The picturesque Northumbrian town of Middlebury is reeling after the murder of two of its residents. Police called to a house in the early hours of Monday discovered the bludgeoned bodies of Elijah Ingham, 46, and his wife Joanna, 38. The couples’ daughters, Rachel, 12, and Mary, 8, were asleep at the time of the brutal attack. Rachel found the bodies and raised the alarm. The daughters have since been put into the care of a local foster family. Police do not have any suspects for the attack, although they have reason to believe it may have been a robbery gone wrong. Residents of Middlebury have been speaking of their shock. One neighbour said, ‘Everyone just feels sick to their stomachs. You hear about this kind of thing, but it always happens in other places. It’s almost impossible to believe something like this could have happened in our little town.’