A Very Grave Yarn

By Lyn D. Jackson

Where better to hide a body than in another man's grave, but three people in other people's graves leaves a vacuum in society, as the ones who put them there find out. A false trail is laid and they are reported missing, but they have touched other lives and questions are being asked. However Detective Chief Inspector Bland and Sergeant Darren Boyd are not going toallow the wool be pulled over their eyes, and are determined to find out the truth. During their investigations to find these missing people, they expose a few skeletons in their backgrounds, and they quickly realize that nobody actuallywants them back.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Feb 11, 2008
• ISBN: 9781456791889

Lyn D. Jackson

Lyn D Jackson was born in the Medway Valley in Kent and was brought up there during the war years. She still lives in Kent with her husband in the old medieval town of Faversham. She came to writing late in life after the children had married and left home and she had retired. This is her fifth book but the first one she has put forward for publication. Most of her stories are written for children and young adults and those of us who are still mentally nine years old and enjoy stories about dragons and dwarves and wizards. Her stories have the element of fantasy and adventure as she feels that we all need a little magic in our lives.

Book preview

Chapter One

Fred and Martha

Fred heaved himself off his bike and continued on foot up the last part of the hill. In the old days he used to fly up but those days were well gone. These days he could not make it to the top. Tonight was cold and wet and he was weary, rain ran down his face and he was glad to get home. He turned into the narrow alley that ran between his house and the house next-door and kicked open the side gate. He pushed his bike through and slammed it shut with his foot. He propped his bike up against the wall and entered the house through the scullery door, his wife called out,

Frederick, make sure you wipe your feet properly. I don’t want muddy footprints on my clean kitchen floor. Lord knows I’ve told you often enough.

Yes dear, he called back.

Hurry up and get washed and changed and then come down to dinner, we are going out tonight for once in our lives. The Guthrie’s have invited us over for drinks at eight o’ clock. Such a lovely man, so handsome, a real gentleman, something you’ll never aspire to. His wife is so lucky to have such a beautiful home; I’d be ashamed to invite them to this hovel.

Yes dear, said Fred. He went upstairs to wash and change.

Fred and Martha lived in one of the three remaining terraced houses at the end of the street. The rest had been mercifully knocked down by one of Hitler’s bombs during the war and all the other houses were post war built, either detached or semi-detached, so the end that Fred and Martha lived was considered the poor end of the street. The not so desirable des res. There was a scullery leading to a small room that they use as a sitting come dining room, which housed a table and four chairs, a small sideboard and two old armchairs either side of the fireplace. There was a window looking out onto a very bleak and narrow yard and a door leading into the hall. As you stepped into the hall the staircase to the right went up the middle of the house with a bedroom on either side at the top and through the bedroom at the back was another small room that had been converted into a bathroom. Downstairs at the front of the house was the parlour, which was only used for high days and holidays, funerals, and receiving the vicar and insurance man. It was musty and smelled of lavender furniture polish. It contained the best furniture, which consisted of a three-piece suite, a glass cabinet containing among other things the best tea service, which had never been used, a small table and a bookcase. There was a framed photograph of Fred and Martha on their wedding day looking distinctly awkward and unhappy, and a Chinese vase that had belonged to Martha’s late mother.

Martha once complained that moth had got into her three-piece suite and Fred muttered under his breath that they were the only buggers ever allowed to sit on it. There was no comfort in this house it was just a sterile place to live in. Fred sighed as he dressed; Martha kept the place pristine clean but was so frugal. Every Friday Fred had to hand over his wage packet unopened and she allowed him enough to have a half pint of beer at the local pub on a Friday night, but woe betide him if he stayed longer than his allotted time. She thought she was being very magnanimous, as she told her sister Cissy ‘men have to have their little pleasures’. She also allowed him enough money to visit his father on a Sunday. This meant going by bus, as it was too far to cycle as his father lived in another town. She gave him enough to buy his father a small packet of tobacco and prided herself on her generosity.

On their wedding night she discovered that she didn’t like sex and that was that. They slept in separate beds, which was hard for Fred in the early part of their twenty-year marriage.

She wouldn’t spend any money unless it was absolutely necessary, she bought all Fred’s clothes and he had no say in the matter, he wore what she bought him. Everything had to be darned and worn to death before it was replaced. Their meals were the same. They had a joint on Sunday, which was made to last three days. They had it cold on Monday with bubble and squeak, the remains of the meat minced and made into rissoles or Sheppard’s pie on Tuesday, followed by breast of mutton stew on Wednesday, which was reheated for Thursday. On Friday it was boiled fish and on Saturday the treat of the day was corned beef and mash. The menu had never varied in all the years they had been married.

Fred longed for some fish and chips or a pork chop or even once in a while a nice piece of steak but it was not to be, Martha would have none of it. He knew they had the money after all his wage, as a gravedigger was quite good so what was she saving it for? Martha insisted that they needed the money for a rainy rain and their retirement.

Then Fred smiled what she didn’t know was that five years ago Fred’s dad had died, and left Fred who was his only child a nice sum of money, and a little house, which was paid for. Martha never got to know as she was not interested in Fred’s dad, she would never visit him or let him visit them as she considered him to be common, so Fred took a day off for the funeral with no loss of pay as it was compassionate leave, buried his father and at a later date later sold the house to swell the funds. Now on a Sunday he visited a little widow lady that he had known for years. She had cooked and cleaned for his dad after she became a widow to make ends meet, and Fred’s dad had left her some money so she wouldn’t have to work any more. Fred and Ruby became husband and wife on a Sunday and Fred took great care of her. He had the love and attention that he never got from Martha and Ruby had a good and gentle man to take care of her, and over the years their love had grown. What about that Martha? Fred thought as he put on his tie.

Frederick! Will you hurry up, Martha shouted up the stairs, I don’t want to be washing up at the last minute.

Coming dear, called Fred as he went downstairs to eat the odious cod and mash, today being Friday.

Chapter Two

The Drink’s Party

As Fred and Martha walked up the drive to the Guthrie’s front door Martha prattled on about what a wonderful house it was and how she wished she’d married someone like Archie Guthrie instead of Fred. Fred said nothing he had heard it all before and it was water off a duck’s back to him. The house was lit up and through the large picture they could see the guests laughing and talking.

Archie Guthrie greeted his guests as they came in.

Hallo Fred, hallo Martha, he said smiling at her and kissing her hand. Martha went all girlie and giggled.

Coats over there Fred, he said and putting his arm around Martha’s well- upholstered body he steered her into the party. He leaned over and said,

Come on you lovely creature you, if I wasn’t already married Fred would have to beat me off with a stick. Martha giggled again and said,

Oh Fred you are awful.

David, he shouted, a touch of the old shampoo for Martha. David was his son, he was also a gravedigger and gardener; the youngest of the three gravediggers and gardeners at the local cemetery. Fred was twenty years older than him and William Brownlow was the oldest being twenty years older Fred.

David hated his father because of the way he treated his mother. Archie Guthrie was a wife beater, but never where it showed. He liked to inflict pain especially that of a sexual nature. He was to the outside world a perfect husband and provider. He was a salesman and was very successful which meant he was away a lot which suited Jean his wife and David.

As David poured Martha’s champagne he wondered how much his mother would have to suffer tonight when this wretched party was over. His father became especially cruel and vindictive when he had had a few drinks. He looked across at him fawning over Martha, what a God-awful woman, poor old Fred fancy being stuck with her.

Fred took the opportunity to go and talk to William, and his wife Mary. They lived next door but one to Fred in one of the three old terraced houses at the end of the street. William was just into his sixties but looked much older. He and Mary were devoted to each other; they had never been blessed with children so they adopted a boy called John, just over twenty years ago. He turned out to be a monster, evil personified. He was the school bully, he stole, and he beat people up even his parents if they tried to chastise him. He was large and menacing people moved aside when they saw him coming. He now raced about the neighborhood on his powerful bright red Japanese racing motorbike, the scourge of the streets; everybody became extra vigilant when crossing the road. Lately he had got mixed up with a gang of ne’er-do-wells who were planning a trip to Thailand for surf, sun and sex and he wanted to go. He never had a proper job preferring to live off the Social Security and his parents; subsequently they never had any money, hadn’t had a holiday in years and were completely worn down.

Hallo Bill, hallo Mary, said Fred sitting down beside them, thought I’d come and sit with you as Martha is otherwise occupied at the moment. They all looked across at Martha making a fool of herself with Archie.

Don’t know what he’s after, said Fred, but he won’t get it. I know I’ve been trying for twenty years, and he laughed good-naturedly. He could laugh now because he had his lovely Ruby but it hadn’t been so funny years ago.

Across the room sat Doctor James Martin, he had seen this scenario many times before. He had never married because he had fallen in love with Jean Guthrie many years ago when she had come to town as a young bride. Time and again he had tried to get Jean to report Archie but she never would. His team at the centre had taken photographs of her bruises and injuries and put them on file in case she changed her mind. The doctor and his nurses said they would back her to the hilt but she would have none of it. He had turned to drink for comfort not to excess and never in front of his patients. He never smelt of drink. Everybody knew he liked a drink or two in the evenings but only in the evenings. He was a caring and excellent doctor.

Tonight he was going against his code of ethics. This time Jean was not going to suffer Archie’s bestial sex habits and beatings. He Doctor James Martin was going to spike Archie’s drink. Not yet but at the right time when people were leaving. Archie would pass out and wake up tomorrow with a headache, serve him right. He knew Archie was on the road in the morning and Jean would be safe for at least a week.

He looked across the room and saw the two gravediggers chatting. Poor William and Mary he wished that depraved son of theirs would drive over a cliff on that bloody red bike of his and give them a few years of peace and as for Fred shackled to that harpy of a woman Martha. He could see her in years gone by in charge of the workhouse making life miserable and uncomfortable for the inmates making them toe the line in the same way as she did Fred. Look at her now, stupid woman making eyes at Archie. She wouldn’t like Archie’s sexual habits, no indeed and he laughed inwardly at the thought of it.

The party had gone well and the food and drink had been excellent. Jean made wonderful finger food and now people were drifting off home as the last said their good-byes the doctor filled two champagne glasses, one of which he spiked and wandered over to Archie. As he passed Jean and saw her frightened face it was all he could do not to say ‘it’s alright Jean your safe tonight’

Come on Archie, he said, one last drink before I hit the road, don’t like to drink alone.

O.K. doc, said Archie and there was a clink of glasses and Archie downed it in one gulp. The doctor took his leave and as he shook hands with Jean he could feel her shaking. God I hate that man he thought and went out into the night.

At last everyone was gone and Archie went upstairs. His packed case was on the chair in the upper hall ready for his early departure in the morning, Jean had seen to that She was now downstairs filling the dishwasher and clearing up while David locked up. When everything was secure he came in the kitchen to help his mother. If the house wasn’t pristine clean in the morning it would make his father fly into a rage and his mum would suffer. He remembered how his father nearly broke her arm when he forced her down on her knees to pick up a peanut that had rolled under a chair.

When they were finished Jean had a last look around and she and David went up to bed. She was shaking uncontrollably.

Mum, said David, leave the bastard, go now, he urged, go to Auntie Pat’s.

I can’t, said his mother, can you imagine what he would do? I would have to come back sooner or later and then what?

He’s unusually quiet tonight, said David as they reached the upper hall. When they looked in the bedroom he had undressed and got as far as putting on his pyjamas bottoms when he keeled over onto the bed face down. He looked as though he had been praying and had slumped forward.

He’s spark out, said David; can’t take his drink like he used to. That’s handy there’ll be no trouble from him tonight.

Thank God, said Jean in relief. They set about putting on his pyjamas jacket, rolled him into bed and covered him up. David set his father’s clock for his early start in the morning and he and his mother went to bed happy. Jean wept for a while with relief and then drifted into sleep. Dr Martin also went to sleep smiling.

Chapter Three

The Flowerpots

Archie was wandering around his well-kept garden just before tea, looking at his handy work. Jean had no say in the garden ,the house was her domain. The truth was that it wasn’t Archie’s work but that of Jim the gardener. Archie just pointed to what he wanted and Jim did the actual work.

At the bottom of the garden by the greenhouse were three large blue and white Chinese flowerpots. Archie decided he did not want them as he had just invested in some new terracotta ones. He was going for the Mediterranean look, but what to do with these old pots. Then he had a brainwave he knew exactly who to give them to. There was an alley that ran along the bottom of everybody’s back garden. He decided to wander down to old lard arse Martha’s house and dump them on her.

When he reached Fred and Martha’s gate he let himself into their narrow back yard.

Martha, he called out," tapping on her back door. She opened the back door and when she saw who it was she went all unnecessary giggling and patting her hair,

Oh Archie, she twittered, here’s little me in my pinny, what must you think," and she giggled again and fluttered her eyes.

Only of running away with you, he said leering at her, you gorgeous creature you.

Oh Archie, she sighed going all coy and looking away.

Martha I have come to give you a present. I have three beautiful flowerpots and as you have no flowers or garden I’m going to bring them down so that you can get Fred to plant you some beautiful plants. If he can dig graves he can give such a lovely lady some nice flowers.

Oh Archie you are such a thoughtful man, said Martha wringing her hands, Fred would never think of that, She failed to mention that Fred had any times tried to talk her into getting some pots and plants to cheer up the yard but she would have none of it saying it was a waste of money and would make the yard untidy.

Now, said Archie, I’ll tell Jim to bring them down tomorrow and don’t forget I will be watching to make sure Fred fills your life with flowers as I would if I were married to you, you little temptress. He then made his escape blowing kisses as he went out of the gate and up the alley. God what an ugly old cow he thought as he made his way home, and daft with it poor old Fred.

Martha sighed, if only she could have her time over again she would have married Archie.

When Fred came home the following day from work he was amazed to see the pots. Not only were there pots but trays of seedlings and a large bag of potting mixture and in the bottom of one of the pots was a hand trowel and fork courtesy of Jim, as were the potting mixture and plants. Jim knew Fred’s situation and realized that Martha would never let him have money for plants etcetera. Fred was a good man and had done Jim and his wife many kindnesses over the years and here was a way to repay him.

What’s all this? Fred said pretending to be cross.

Now come on Fred, just because someone treats me like a lady there’s no need for you to get uppity. Just you go out there and plant those pots. Archie is expecting to see flowers, he’ll be watching so you see that you make a good job of it. Your tea can wait until the job’s done.

This