Pagan - The Rise of the Haliorunnae

By Vanda Denton

This first Pagan book is a story of ancient genetics, parallel evolution, hive minds and a clandestine bid to take over the human world.

Set in the present day, humanity is unwittingly approaching an apocalypse. The vast majority of people are unaware of the existence of a mysterious century’s old war broiling and bubbling beneath the surface. Within the world’s societies are ancient families pursuing a quest the exact nature of which has been lost even to them. Jean-Louis Rusch and Ruby Dean know only that an evil lurks at the heart of some of the most ordinary businesses around the world. There is talk of witches, ghosts and demons but with no real concept of their enemy they are referred to only as ‘them’.

Rusch is forced to accept what Ruby has tried to tell him: he was created for the purpose of defeating their enemy. And those who made him, expecting to control him, find that they made him too well.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Nov 22, 2015
• ISBN: 9781326484927

Book preview

Pagan - The Rise of the Haliorunnae

Pagan – The Rise of the Haliorunnae

Vanda M Denton

© 2015 Vanda M Denton

All rights reserved by the author. No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers and/or authors.

This book is published by and available from:

VinctalinBooks

www.vinctalin.com

ISBN Paperback: 978-1-326-42498-5

ISBN eBook: 978-1-326-48492-7

Prologue

He froze. Had he felt less crippled by fear he’d have been aware of the pain in this cringing rictus. Adrenalin pumped through his body, blood rushed in his ears like white noise and his eyes darted in all directions, against his will. He did not want to see them. In timeless terror he knew only that. As though not seeing them could deny their existence.

But there it was! There was no reason, no logic, to help him with perspective in time or space. Nothing to suggest that a single sighting on this occasion might be less of a threat than earlier visions where hoards of them mingled, twisted and swirled, insanely massed together.

Adrenalin comes in waves. It’s a natural fact. But anyone with a genuine phobia will tell you that those waves crash one upon another. There is no breathing space between. There is no, as psychologists who haven’t experienced it would have you believe, hiatus in which controlled breathing will slow the release of it. And these same facts follow through also when the object of fear is a real and genuine threat. And so Jason Meadowycke’s eyes would not be turned away from the ghoulish phantom while wave upon wave of abject terror crashed and crushed intelligence, knowledge and normality, leaving panic in their wake.

As the contorted goblin-like spectre floated closer, Jason cowered instinctively below the height of the wall he’d been building before the apparition paralysed him. Somewhere in a corner of his brain a feeble sense of self-preservation survived. He knew that unlike normal ghosts, this menacing creature could not pass through solid masonry.

A firm hand on his shoulder curled him into a ball, until a familiar voice seeped through the turmoil.

‘Relax lad.’

He couldn’t. He’d stiffened into a tight knot like on a yacht where the salty sea had dried the ropes.

‘There’s nothing to be afraid of, lad.’

Yes there was!

‘You’re hallucinating, Jason.’ A different voice. One with gravitas. One that knew.

Erik Meadowycke firmly levered his brother’s arms from his head. ‘Jason! You’re seeing things!’

Of course he was! And those things were going to get him.

Nobby poured some hot tea from his flask and knelt the other side of young Meadowycke. ‘Here lad. Sip this.’

Erik was pushing him into a sitting position; back against the wall where he vaguely remembered laying bricks just before he saw…

Nobby held the mug to his lips, ‘You wanna stop smoking that pot or whatever it is you take, lad.’

‘I, I don’t…’

‘Drink some tea, Jason.’

He didn’t want to look at Erik. Nobby was a safer option.

His fellow worker met his eyes. ‘That’s it lad. Drink it up.’

Erik stood, watching the pair. Then he passed his glance across the building site. No one looked this way, curious about the collapse of his young brother. The men continued diligently with their work. He glanced back to where Nobby held up the empty mug. Jason had consumed the whole dose of sedative and now lay back, eyes closed and breathing evening out. Erik frowned at the film of sweat remaining on his brow.

Nobby’s rough encouragement was the only voice to be heard now.

‘Come along lad we’ve got work to do. You can’t let them Poles show you up.’

Erik pressed down on the knees that had been drawn up to his chest and gripped an upper arm. ‘Come on. Stand up.’

There was compliance, and confusion.

Erik steadied him with hands on his shoulders, peering into the averted eyes. ‘What did you see this time, Jason?’

‘I saw…’

‘What?’

‘I…’

‘Can you remember?’

‘N, no.’ He frowned at the fleeting image that would not emerge into the lit corners of his mind.

‘Probably just as well.’ Erik gave his brother a small push towards Nobby before walking away to inspect the work of his labourers. With the boss now busy elsewhere, Nobby pulled a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and offered one to the lad. When Jason shook his head in vague refusal Nobby popped one in his mouth, pocketed the packet and dug deep for his matches. Jason watched closely as the flame burst into life and was held to the end of the cigarette. The flame was shaken to a swift death while the tip of the cigarette glowed. Nobby inhaled deeply before releasing smoke from his nose and mouth simultaneously. Now with his own form of soma, he studied Jason with mild irritation.

Jason’s glance drifted downwards. He looked to where his trowel had fallen when the episode began.

Nobby picked it up and handed it to him, along with the mortar board. ‘You should use this before it dries, lad.’

Jason’s eyes turned to the wall he’d been working on. He studied his brickwork. Eventually he took the tools from Nobby and slowly, precisely, trowelled cement on to the next brick, laid it with care, tapped it and smoothed off the excess for a perfect finish.

‘Take you a century to make a wall like that,’ his workmate philosophised, leaning on the shovel he’d been using prior to the crisis and dragging on the fag. He worked at the quiet conversation that generally calmed the lad. ‘Look at them Poles. They lay ten to every one of yours.’

‘They’re aliens, Nobby.’

‘Why can’t you just call them foreign, lad?’

Nobby dropped the butt, ground it into the rubble he was supposed to be clearing and sucked on his teeth. He should have known better than to pick that topic.

Like a dog with a bone Jason murmured, ‘We don’t use migrant workers when the aliens are breeding.’

Nobby’s ill temper was expressed in a heavy sigh, ‘Yeh, and the Millennium Dome over there is their spaceship and they slither into the Thames at night to revert back to their natural shape, I suppose. I told you lad, you wanna leave them drugs alone.’

Erik’s voice floated across the quiet site, growing a little louder as he came closer, giving instructions to non-vocal workers. Along with the sporadic conversation from Nobby and Jason the only other sounds were the tinny tapping and scraping of trowels, heavy feet on ladders and the grind of cement mixers.

He looked to Nobby for a report.

‘He’s confused about the Poles.’

‘Aliens.’

Erik flashed angry eyes to Nobby before turning coolly to face his brother. He watched Jason begin on another brick.

He kept his voice even as he made his assessment, ‘Alright, let’s call them aliens today.’

Jason pressed the brick into place.

‘Good work. That’s as accurate as my,’ he flicked a glance up to Nobby, ‘alien workers.’

‘But slower.’

‘Speed isn’t everything.’

‘The aliens are just as accurate.’

‘But no better.’

‘They could build a city before I could build one house.’

Erik grunted agreement to that.

Jason re-checked the last brick, began to show signs of not wanting to waste the remaining mortar and was just about to insist on finishing when Erik cut in quickly. ‘I want you to leave that now.’

Jason blinked, ‘I haven’t finished.’

‘That’s enough for now. Penny’s baked scones. Go and get yourself one while they’re fresh.’ Erik manufactured a smile for his brother when he finally met his eyes.

Nobby gave into his soft side by putting a little weight towards Jason’s better choice. ‘Penny’s got that special jam in just for you. She’d be proper let down if you don’t go and tuck in, and remember to tell her how much you appreciate all the stuff she does for you.’

While the two men watched young Jason set off for Penny’s café caravan, Nobby quietly remarked, ‘I can take the used ones up to Suffolk today if you want.’

The pleasant smile plastered on Erik Meadowycke’s face now twisted into an unsavoury calculation.

‘Yes, obviously it’s that time for some of them at least.’

‘You can say that again.’ Nobby toned down what had been, in his mind, a judgement of the boss. If he’d been more careful his brother wouldn’t have required that sedative never mind the top-up he’d get in the scones. It would be reckless, possibly dangerous, to allow Erik Meadowycke to become aware of the criticism. He would not repeat what he’d said to Penny when he made her laugh. That being: some of them are nearly fucking transparent.

‘Like you say boss. Some of them could be on their way out.’

The boss’s lip curled nastily as though he could read Nobby’s mind.

For now, Erik merely told him quietly, ‘You’ll be taking Jason too. Father will have to come up with a new way of keeping him under control.’

That put Nobby further on his guard. ‘Will you be telling your father that, sir?’

‘Don’t panic,’ there was mockery in the younger man’s eyes. ‘I’ll explain to my father. Just get my brother home without drawing attention.’

Nobby relaxed prematurely.

‘And Nobby,’ Erik’s hand clutched the older man’s shoulder viciously. ‘More of them may begin changing on the way. You know what you’re paid for. Don’t let me down.’

Nobby winced under the pain of that certain promise. ‘I know where me bread’s buttered, boss. You can trust me.’

‘Oh I do.’ Erik squeezed harder. ‘Because I can make you, or I can break you, mate. Remember that and you’ll grow to be safe as well as rich.’

Chapter 1

As was the custom, Jean-Louis let himself into his friend’s London flat using the key she had given him long ago. He had had some concern that she might have had the lock changed in the interim, since relations had soured somewhat. Jean-Louis had flown in overnight from New York and planned to surprise her. In his mind this was less an act of revenge than a lesson-teaching exercise. Ruby had become too interested in, and too disparaging of, his personal life. It was her last few emails that motivated him to take up this particular quest with greater speed than she would anticipate.

His timing was perfect. Even better than he’d hoped for. Jean-Louis had expected to catch her still asleep. He intended to scare the living daylights out of her by waking her with a start, and a few well-chosen words, but he could hear the shower running and another, harsher plot hatched.

He crept silently along the hallway, pushed wide the bathroom door and watched her through the etched glass for several minutes before she turned in his direction, scrubbing shampoo into the short russet hair and humming a mad little tune. It was only as the brisk sprinkling cleared away the lather and her hands wiped away the puddles that Ruby clapped eyes on what she perceived as a voyeur.

‘Rusch!’ She scrabbled to cover the red triangle and pink nipples, turning and slipping. ‘You creep! What the hell are you doing?’

He settled comfortably against the doorpost, successfully hiding the pain of his desire. ‘You accused me of…’ now he held up one hand, ticking off points on his finger with the other, ‘…neglecting my family, having no serious morals; I guess you’re right there…’

‘Get out you perv!’

‘…never visiting you these days…’

‘Rusch! Leave! Now!’

‘Fourth and not least, having lost my sense of humour.’

‘Louis, please leave my bathroom.’

‘You got to begging sooner than expected. This is a good starting point. I like desperation.’ He enjoyed the well-rounded back view, seductively obscured by the etched floral-work of the shower screen until bitter-sweet reminders of their past crowded out all milder considerations.

‘You win, OK? I was interfering again, I’ve learned my lesson and I am truly sorry. Now get out.’

He sloped out of the door.

‘I know you’re still there. You’re waiting for me to step out for a towel.’

His voice came from down the hall and she failed to notice how it broke with emotion. ‘Don’t be daft. I only caught a glimpse of your front view. I may savour that for years before acting again. Better lock your bathroom door from now on.’

‘Prick!’

It was only when she could hear him clattering about in her fridge that Ruby dared scamper out of the shower slamming the door to the hall on the way past it to get a towel.

She hadn’t calmed much by the time she’d dressed and found him at her kitchen table eating toast. He assessed the lustrous red face seriously while she absorbed the sight of a familiar dark face that lacked any sign of a five o’clock shadow in spite of the long journey. She noted the new stylish cut to lush, thick black hair.

‘That wasn’t funny!’

‘It wasn’t meant to be.’ He didn’t see how he’d hurt her feelings because Ruby turned her back, busy with the kettle.

‘I suppose you want tea.’

‘Of course.’

‘What kind of French mother produces a son who prefers tea to coffee?’

Jean-Louis watched the stiff back, noted the spirited voice of what his friend hoped would be an attack on his vulnerable lack of belonging, and answered easily, ‘The rich Parisian kind who dumps the result of a one-night stand with a married Egyptian father of five in English boarding schools for years on end.’

‘Yeh well,’ she plugged in the kettle and met his eyes less fiercely at last, ‘I know you Rusch. No one could care less about all that than you, so stop playing the sympathy card.’

‘Which one?’

Ruby closely eyed the friend who actually had endured childhood abandonment but overrode it all with an avoidance of major callousness. Somehow he’d turned it into a cool reserve with total self-reliance. Even as a small boy spending the school holidays with Ruby and her mother, Jean-Louis had been entirely independent.

‘How would you like it if I walked in on your shower?’

He stood to fetch cups from a wall unit and stepped very close, ‘Don’t make threats you’ve no intention of carrying out. You’ll only fall flat on your face.’

‘I can get more inventive than that.’

‘Bring it on.’ The eyes said it all. He was still bitter. And he would always push the envelope further than anyone else.

She flung T-bags into the cups.

‘How’s Bradley,’ he drew out the name contemptuously, long past pointing out that the fact they lived their lives for a secret mission didn’t mean she had to stick to one boyfriend who was too self-absorbed and boring to ask questions.

Ruby was artful. One thing she always could be certain of was the pain she could inflict by making him believe she truly didn’t care. And so having decided that her best chance of vengeance was to feign indifference to the earlier violation, his threats and his opinions, she moved into business mode. ‘Did you make any progress in New York?’

‘No.’

He strolled out of the kitchen and made himself comfortable in Ruby’s small lounge.

‘It was a dead-end, just like Chicago, San Francisco and the rest.’ He had been away for almost a year following tenuous leads because he couldn’t bear to stay in England.

While Jean-Louis stared coldly at the tall buildings glinting in the spring sun across the Thames, Ruby studied her friend’s handsome profile. She wanted to ask about the women: how many, how long did each one last, had he moved out of his preferred age-range? Did he tell them he loved them? But that would invite a punishing response of the kind that could wither her. No one else in the world could do that. With anyone else she would put up a robust fight. She would confront him with a spirited argument and even impassioned pleas. Generally she had learned not to even try that with Jean-Louis. It seemed to Ruby that at times he could be cruel towards her, knowing she would take that from him and no one else. The fact was, no one else could hurt her and she didn’t want to provide him with another opportunity so she bolstered her thoughts and emotions with that old friend, anger. Even in that she took care to internalise it.

In order to move swiftly away from personal thoughts Ruby quietly dropped her bombshell, ‘I found a solid lead.’

She raised one triumphant eyebrow as he turned sharply.

‘How do you fancy a trip to Suffolk?’

Louis’ face twisted in snobbish distaste, ‘I can’t even find the words.’

Ruby offered some plain ones, ‘Arse of the world?’

His expression told her that was on the right track but not close.

She produced a smile, ‘I think you’re in for a treat.’

The jet lag hit like a sledge hammer.

Louis had no need to prepare for the move. He had only to collect his case from the hall and slot into the plans Ruby already had in motion. The drive from London took over three hours. Frequently held up in heavy traffic, Jean-Louis knew little of it as the trans-Atlantic time difference caught up with him. He awoke to the sounds of rain and wheels on gravel just in time to spot the sign announcing he was at Beatrix Cottage and thought, ‘Oh please.’

In their line of work, alert to the possibility of danger coming from unexpected quarters neither of these secret investigators ever enjoyed complete relaxation. Slumped against his door, to anyone but Ruby he might have been out cold but he had one eye partially open, expecting to be appalled by the sight of his surroundings.

Ruby watched him draw his solidly-built body slowly up the seat and enjoyed seeing the mild expression chase away disdain.

‘Raining of course.’

During the long journey Ruby’s natural warmth had re-established itself. ‘Isn’t it pretty?’

He tossed a fairly agreeable head at the cottage and lush gardens.

‘What are we claiming to be this time? Married? Siblings? Married siblings?’

‘Siblings on an errand for their parents. It’ll draw the least attention whilst letting either of us flirt with the suspects. We’re looking for a retirement home for Mr. and Mrs. Dean who want to move out of the smoke. It provides a good reason to be asking about the area.’

He slipped from the car without responding.

Ruby joined him, ‘You’re going to have to conjure up some signs of affection.’

He placed an arm around her, masking the reaction she caused within him while she pushed on coolly with business. Louis oscillated between being relieved and sorry when she wriggled out of his sarcastic embrace to fetch an umbrella from the boot.

She locked the car and urged with overly bright enthusiasm, ‘Come and take a look from the back before we go in.’

While Ruby led the way, Louis shrugged on a jacket and stared around the large garden. It was well-kept for a rented property. Could the gardener become a problem?

He followed her to the back lawn, through a pretty little cherry orchard and peeped through the hedge at the bottom. The noise of industry informed him of Ruby’s reason for the choice of accommodation. As they peered through the hedge they were immediately struck by the eerie atmosphere emanating from the site across the field. Close to a hundred yards separated them from the construction area where men worked steadily, many with the heavy equipment that seemed to be making the only noise. For such a big development that was an unsettling absence of human voices.

‘Luxury houses,’ he observed.

‘Lowycke is, or should I say, was, a small working-class village. I’d say the estate is about half built. When it’s finished the newcomers will take over completely.’

‘They’ve been here a while then. Have you questioned the locals?’

‘Building ceased in December. Those workers used to swamp out the village Co-op twice a day. When the build resumed in February the new builders didn’t use the Co-op. A woman from the tills there doesn’t recognise any of these. She thinks he’s brought in a new crew.’

‘He?’

‘The owner of the firm: Ralph Meadowycke. Last year’s lot were Eastern European and she’s assuming these are too; just a different lot.’

Louis was sceptical. ‘I suppose you have a good reason for thinking what you’re thinking.’

He never had held enough respect for her ‘specialist talents’. Ruby steeled herself for an explosive reaction to bringing him home like this. ‘These same men were working on a London site. Well, not exactly the same. I mean, I don’t recognise individuals but their behaviour is distinctive and they all wear the same overalls.’

‘And?’

‘One of the scouts brought them to my attention in London.’

‘And?’

‘He has been right before. He found the mine at Loch Lomond.’

Louis turned eyes only from the relentless construction across the field, to Ruby. ‘And?’

‘I found I agreed with the scout.’

The black eyes narrowed menacingly.

‘OK! I had one of my feelings. I investigated as well as I could while they were there. I noted the name of the Project Manager: Erik Meadowycke. I found that the family live in this area. I found this site being run by them. And I had the feeling again.’

His long, cold stare did not put out the fire in her eyes.

‘Say something.’

He returned his gaze to the building site.

‘It isn’t only the feeling. Erik Meadowycke had a younger brother at the site in London. On occasion he had been heard referring to the builders as ‘aliens’. Witnesses suspected he had been drugged to keep him quiet.’

‘Why didn’t you use your witnesses for this investigation?’

‘If I’m right, this needs your expertise.’

Jean-Louis grimaced over the possibilities scrolling through his mind: either Ruby had brought him on a wild goose chase or there were a hell of a lot of them this time. The former he decided, to her surprise was unlikely and the latter unheard of.

He shook his head, ‘This can’t be right.’

‘Let’s get out of this rain.’ Ruby led the way to the back of the house, jangling keys she’d taken from her pocket.

The back door of Beatrix Cottage opened on to a pleasant, relatively large kitchen, furnished in antique pine with a work/dining table companionably centrally placed. While Ruby checked the cupboards to find them spotless as promised, Louis continued through to check the rest of the house. The kitchen opened on to a hall and opposite it a light, airy lounge with out-of-character easy to clean leather furniture placed for views of the garden through patio doors. Along the hall he found the dining room backing on to the kitchen, a study behind the lounge, a downstairs cloakroom and the stairs opposite the front door.

He mounted the stairs two at a time, swept swiftly through the front bedroom and bathroom and on to the back bedrooms. At the larger of those two he stopped to appreciate why Ruby had chosen to rent this particular house. In fact, she’d been lucky to get such a good view of that development.

Jean-Louis had been watching for a long time, still running through his doubts, when Ruby arrived to set up the camera with its telescopic lens.

He watched with scorn. ‘You won’t discover anything that way.’

‘Obviously.’ She remained busy with the tripod. ‘But I will maintain a level of contact and context.’

‘There can’t be that many.’

‘You don’t have to stay.’

‘No, I don’t. I’m going for a walk around the village.’

‘Great.’

He tossed a hand as he left, ‘See you later.’

‘Yeh.’

An hour later Ruby had unpacked the car, put her stuff in the big back bedroom and his in the smaller one, filled the larder, looked from the bottom gate again and begun setting up her equipment. She heard the car leaving.

‘I don’t believe it!’ she hissed. ‘He’s taken the car without asking. He’s so selfish.’

An hour after that Louis returned with a black spaniel puppy and all the accoutrements, plus four new top of the market laptops. He found Ruby in the study checking files in her computer.

She turned halfway with her usual equilibrium comfortably restored through focus on her work and no small measure of gratitude: he might just as easily have left her to try to investigate this with no one better than her usual assistants. ‘Ah, good reason for hanging around rural streets and footpaths.’

‘Do you like him?’

‘He’s sweet, but you could have asked about the car.’

‘Did you need it?’

‘No, but that’s not…’

‘Come on Scamp,’ he walked off with the bouncing puppy while Ruby blew out fresh exasperation. ‘Let’s go hunting for monsters.’

Ruby walked as far as the back door with him and watched the potent strides of a young and muscular man, pleased with her decision to have brought home ‘the big guns’ for this exercise.

Chapter 2

Jean-Louis seemed nothing more than a tree-hugging countryside-lover as he broke through the back hedge on to the rough ground that backed on to the building development, patting Scamp and studying his Ordnance Survey map. It took a while for Erik Meadowycke’s foreman to notice the trespasser but when he did he was marching across the muddy foundation trenches and across the field with an insincere display of pally British lower management.

From halfway across he called, ‘Sorry mate. This is private property.’

As the man drew closer, Louis met the stony eyes with modest regret, whilst holding the OS map for the foreman to examine. ‘This map is up to date, I assure you. I am on a public right of way. I won’t be affecting your work. The path leads along this side of the hedge, across the corner of your plot here,’ he traced the lines with his finger, ‘and out to what should be a style, to the stream here.’ He tapped the map.

‘You can’t come on this land: health and safety.’

‘I think you’ll find that is against county bye laws.’

‘You’ll have to take it up with the local councillors. Our planning permission includes health and safety regulations. The path might be re-opened when the build is finished but I wouldn’t bank on it, mate.’

‘Do you have any idea how many paths we lose every year to greedy landowners and developers?’

‘Not my area of expertise mate but I reckon you do. You might even have a case if you go through the right channels.’

‘But I already know my rights. I’m just going to take my dog as far as the stream and back again, on the path I am legally entitled to walk and which won’t go anywhere near your foundations. There’s a whole field from here to there but I’ll keep the poor thing on a lead. You can see how lively he is. I have to exercise him.’

Bill dropped the argument. He would not draw attention right now but neither could he allow this wally to get in the habit of walking in this area. ‘Tell you what mate. You finish your walk today and I’ll get the boss to look into it.’

Louis appeared naively victorious while Bill reckoned he’d not see the dope here again. He didn’t know anyone who’d tried crossing the boss more than once and he avoided knowing details of why, whenever possible. Anyone with access to a workforce that was not human should be treated with the utmost respect, and fear. In his young and rash days it had occurred to Bill to sell this story but anyone who’d spent any time at all with Ralph Meadowycke knew instinctively the world was not big enough to hide in. Once in his clutches the best you could manage was obedience and a nice standard of living. His great-grandfather had worked that one out a century ago.

‘Living in that house are you?’ he nodded to the property visible through a gap in the hedge at Louis’ back.

‘Only for a short time. It won’t suit long-term, now this lovely field is getting filled with houses.’

‘Bound to be better properties in the area, mate.’

‘Yes, but there are important issues to be taken into account all the same.’

‘Probably. I can’t say it bothers me.’

‘Maybe I could bring you some leaflets.’

‘Not if you want me to stay civil, mate.’

Louis raised the hands of defeat. ‘Alright, I’ll just take my dog to the stream and leave you alone,’ the dark eyes looked just a little less guileless, ‘for now.’

‘Before you go…’

Louis noted the edge of a threat in what until now had been the face of British working-class amiability.

‘…can I know your name?’

He allowed a little, only a very little, of his dauntless character to show. ‘If I can know yours, mate.’

‘Bill.’

‘Bill what?’

The foreman looked closer, re-assessing the nature of the man. He saw a stubborn middle-class crank with a bit more iron in his core than first suspected.

‘Bill Sedgewycke. And yours?’

‘I am Jean-Louis Rusch and a senior member of the Ramblers’ Association.’

Bill’s sideways nod suggested critical comprehension of a pain in the backside. ‘You’ll be hearing from my boss Jean-Louis Rusch.’

‘I’ll look forward to it.’

Bill’s calculating gaze hardly left the back of the most unlikely looking example of an English countryside campaigner. He stood by the opening to their back garden, glancing into the cherry orchard and back to Rusch considering how it would be perfectly possible these days for a man of Middle-Eastern descent to be fully anglicised to the point of saving England’s green and pleasant land.

In time he walked slowly back to the voiceless building activity, still watching that Louis’ route didn’t deviate and he continued to observe whilst giving scant attention to the industry entrusted to Nobby’s close scrutiny in his absence.

As he strolled along, exchanging the occasional understanding with Scamp who hated being on a leash, Louis gave serious thought to the unnatural behaviour of those builders and the fact he had been caught witnessing it. He’d been here only four hours. It was 14.15. He considered he could expect action before tea-time.

Once over the style and into the neighbouring field Louis took the puppy off the lead, telling it not to go far and definitely not back towards the building site. The dog, being young, set off in a zigzag to explore muddy edges and to sniff out rabbits. He shocked himself with the discovery of cold water in the stream. He was then very glad to hear his master gently chiding and reassuring him. After a hearty cuddle along with reassuring sniffing and face-licking young Scamp was settled and satisfied to be put back on the lead. He walked close to his master’s feet as they returned to Beatrix Cottage.

Louis sat on the kitchen step to pull off muddy boots while Ruby towelled down the lively, licking puppy.

‘Well?’

Louis’ gaze looked beyond the scene before him. ‘I rattled a cage. If this is what you think, I’d expect to be contacted one way or another quite soon. Tonight we’ll have a pub meal to see if anything else crawls out.’

‘It’s crap food.’

‘There’s a shocker.’

It took until 17.00 hours for the threat to arrive. Ruby had been busy in her study while Louis waited in the lounge with Scamp by his side on the sofa, both staring peculiarly blankly through the French windows into the