The Lost Soldier by Costeloe Diney Read Free Book Online Page A

allotment patch?” asked Rachel.
    Tim shook his head. “Not at the moment. It is bounded on this, western side,” he pointed to the plan, “by Scotts Road which has a row of houses along it, and on this, the east, by the churchyard.” No point, he thought, in mentioning the possible access through that until Mike had approached the Church Commissioners. “Beyond it,” he went on, “the ground drops away steeply down to the stream.” He indicated the blue line on the plan. “Of course we are looking into all the possibilities. We don’t want to cut down those trees if we don’t have to. They are clearly important to people… it’s just that we didn’t know that before.”
    “Does the planning permission rest on this?” Rachel asked.
    “Mr Bradley is seeing the planners again next week to try and sort something out,” Tim said, “but the whole development may depend on the access. If we can’t get it, we can’t build there, and that’s it.” He shrugged and added, “It would be a pity for the village as a whole, though, because this is a pretty good deal for them. They’ve been trying to raise money for sometime to replace their village hall. This way it’s done for them… and of course gives them some affordable housing right in the middle of the village.”
    “Not all starter homes though,” pointed out Rachel.
    “No,” agreed Tim, “but we have to have some more expensive housing to make the whole proposition viable from our point of view. Until the question of the trees was raised, all parties concerned were getting what they wanted from the plan.”
    “Not everyone in the village is in favour of it anyway,” Rachel said. “There were other voices of dissension at the meeting you know, before the trees were mentioned.”
    “There always are,” sighed Tim. “However good a scheme is, someone won’t like it and kick up a fuss.”
    “Well, it is their village.”
    “It’s everyone’s village, everyone who lives there I mean. The parish council is representing everyone in cases like this, and it is the parish council that we deal with.” Tim spoke firmly. “The parish council did not mention the trees.”
    “What will you do?”
    “We have to make further enquiries,” Tim replied. “We’ll find out who the trees were planted for and approach their families… if they’re still around. We are very happy to build a new memorial to the men commemorated there. None of those trees has got a name on it, you know. No one can tell, if they just walk over there, that they are memorial trees at all. There’s no sign, no name-plates, nothing. We shall offer to build a new memorial, perhaps a fountain beside the new village hall, with the names beside, and perhaps the names from the Second World War as well.”
    “Is that a definite offer?” Rachel asked as she scribbled his words down in her notebook.
    “It is certainly the sort of offer Mike Bradley has in mind,” replied Tim. “Obviously it hasn’t been made yet as the question has only just arisen, but I have no doubt that the parish council will be approached with something of that order.” He smiled at her reassuringly.
    Rachel looked at him consideringly. She had spoken to Paula Sharp herself earlier in the day and realised she knew something that Tim Cartwright did not.
    “We are going to have a problem,” Paula Sharp had told her that morning when Rachel had called on her. “The parish council owns the land, all of it… the village green and the allotments, all that land was left to the parish by Sir George in his will, but not the actual trees in the Ashgrove. They were given to the families of the men they commemorate by Sir George Hurst, in perpetuity. Each tree is owned by a different family. If they need to fell them all, they will have to get permission from each family, and,” she smiled wryly, “we already know what Cecily Strong will say, I think.”
    “Do you know where all the other families are?”