The Drowning Ground by James Marrison Read Free Book Online Page A

know’ – Fernsby stared at the floor – ‘two years. Maybe more. And I can’t even remember where that was. He didn’t go out much, you know. Who could blame him, after what happened? But I used to see him from time to time in the village shop, getting his groceries, bombing about in his jeep, driving too fast down the road. Mostly, he kept to himself up in that big old house of his. Yesterday, he looked’ – Fernsby paused, searching for the right word – ‘he looked grim.’ Fernsby’s face fell, dissatisfied. ‘But then, of course, he always looked grim. Not speaking to anyone. Glaring at people with their dogs all afternoon, because he hadn’t anything better to do.
    â€˜But there is something else,’ he said finally. ‘It was more than that.’ He put out his cigarette.
    I waited.
    â€˜He looked … well, to be perfectly honest, he didn’t look quite all there. He was talking to himself, for one thing. I thought he was talking to the dog at first. The dog was tied to one of the trees. I couldn’t really hear what he was saying, but it sounded like silly stuff. Stuff like what he had to do when he got back home. Odd jobs he had to do. What he was going to have for his tea. Felt a bit sorry for him, really. But then I had always felt a bit sorry for him. He never seemed to get over it. You know, after what happened to his wife.’
    â€˜His wife drowned, didn’t she?’ I said, finally giving in.
    â€˜That’s right,’ Fernsby said, quite cheerful again. ‘Cracked her head against the side of her swimming pool and drowned. Lot of nasty gossip about it at the time, as I’m sure you’re aware.’
    I nodded. I had believed some of it at the time. I folded my coat tighter on my lap, remembering.
    â€˜God, he was a stubborn sod,’ Fernsby said. ‘Anyone else would have shut up shop, sold the place and never come back, but not Hurst. You been up there? To the house?’
    â€˜No. Not yet.’
    Fernsby shook his head in disgust. ‘Let the whole place go, by the looks of it. His daughter walked out on him. Can’t say I blame her.’
    â€˜Actually,’ I said, ‘I wanted to ask you about her. We’ve been trying to reach her all day. She went away years ago, that’s what we’re hearing.’
    â€˜Rebecca,’ Fernsby said. ‘Rebecca Hurst. She moved. But don’t ask me where. Ran off with some fella.’ Fernsby now looked taken aback. ‘Hold on. So you didn’t find him in his house?’
    â€˜No,’ I said, ‘we didn’t. We think he was killed around 5.00 yesterday afternoon. And near the place where you said you were out walking your dog. In fact,’ I added a little cruelly, ‘you may well have been the last one to see him alive.’
    I had not really intended to shock the old man or worry him all that much. He seemed far too self-assured for that anyway. But my words seemed to shake him. He started feeling along the bandage on his hand.
    â€˜What?’ I said. ‘What is it?’
    â€˜Well, it was his dog,’ Fernsby said. ‘I told you he had tied it to a tree. I think it might have even been asleep.’ Fernsby paused. ‘Can’t really remember now. Sorry. But as we were on our way back across the field towards home, it started barking. I thought it might have been at us to begin with. But it definitely wasn’t us it was interested in. It was something on the other side of the hill. A fox or a rabbit, I suppose. It seemed to want to go after it, but of course it couldn’t. It just ran along the lead – back and forth, barking.’
    â€˜Barking towards the house – in the direction of Hurst’s house? Is that what you’re saying?’
    Fernsby folded his arms over his chest and nodded. ‘Yes.’
    I leant forward in my chair. ‘And did you see what the dog was