The Coffin Trail by Martin Edwards

Author:Martin Edwards [Edwards, Martin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Mystery
ISBN: 9780749010218
Publisher: Allison & Busby
Published: 2011-05-18T04:00:00+00:00

Daniel watched Marc Amos striding off into the distance, his wind-cheater a red blob dipping between the rocks and eventually vanishing as Priest Edge fell away towards the depression of Far Gate. Below the fell’s steep flank lay Whitmell Vale, a ravine-scarred trench watered by a meandering beck. The sheep-crowded fields and the isolated stone cottages scattered along the floor of the valley presented an inviting prospect. He’d save Whitmell for another day and keep to his plan to follow the coffin trail back to Underfell, that part of Brackdale that lay between the Hall and the slopes.

Centuries had passed since, with no consecrated ground in the Vale, Whitmell folk had strapped their dead on packhorses and taken them over the fell to a final place of rest in the graveyard at Brack. Eventually a small church boasting a neat spire was built to serve the tiny community, and thereafter the coffin trail served no useful purpose. For those travelling from Whitmell to Brack, the lane that curved between the jaws of the Horseshoe provided a quicker route from one hamlet to the other. Yet the coffin trail boasted an enduring virtue in its glorious views of Brackdale and fell-walkers had never allowed the track to fade away through disuse.

The descent was easy and it did not take long for him to reach the foot of the fell. He crossed the beck that provided the grounds of Brack Hall with a natural boundary and skirted the Dumelows’ land on his way to the village. While he looked over to the farmhouse, the front door opened. Jean Allardyce emerged, shopping bag in hand, and hauled herself into an elderly Land Rover parked on the hardstanding beside the house. As Daniel reached the end of the driveway, the vehicle pulled up beside him.

She put her head out of the window and called, ‘Can I give you a lift?’

‘That’s good of you.’ He was happy to walk, but as usual curiosity got the better of him. No harm in a short detour: Miranda wouldn’t be counting the minutes until his return. ‘If you could drop me off in the village?’

‘No problem, I’m just on my way to Tasker’s. Jump in.’

He clambered in beside her, taking in a faint freesia fragrance as she bent towards him to move a sheaf of travel brochures off the passenger seat. He hadn’t taken much notice of Jean Allardyce until now and hadn’t fully realised that, although timid and inconspicuous, she was a pretty woman with full lips and porcelain blue eyes. He found himself clenching his fists at the thought of Allardyce beating her.

‘Booking your holidays?’ he asked as she tossed the brochures into the back.

She smiled. ‘Just weighing up the options. A harmless fantasy. Ever since I was a child I’ve had this dream of journeying across the Prairies, seeing the hidden corners of Indian Country. I blame Laura Ingalls Wilder, I used to love her tales about the pioneers.’

‘You wanted to explore a different world?’

‘Yes, it would be a dream come true.

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