getting yourself into a mess in that way won’t bring Harry back, will it?’
Once considered, Disvan’s argument seemed unanswerable, but even so a wave of bitterness at Morton’s fate and the world in general swept over me.
‘Whatever happened to the truth, Mr Disvan?’
‘It lost credibility Mr Oakley, and went into hiding.’
‘Amen,’ said the policeman. ‘Put the boat about. Let’s head for home.’
* * *
Mr Morton’s body was washed ashore several days later, ‘slightly bashed about and nibbled by the fishes,’ as the blunt and thick-skinned coastguard told Mr Disvan on the telephone.
After the legal formalities of autopsy and inquest were served, it therefore fell upon us to attend a second and final Morton funeral within the space of a few months. In contrast, however, to the previous occasion, a sizeable crowd of sincere mourners were present at the obsequies and people were arrayed two or three deep around the graveside.
To my horror I saw that it was intended to bury Harry in a double grave with his late wife, and I whispered to Mr Disvan who was beside me.
‘This is appalling. Can’t we do something to prevent it?’
‘On what grounds, Mr Oakley?’ he answered with a shrug.
Once again, as soon as I gave it more than cursory thought, any mention of the truth became obviously impossible.
‘What I don’t understand,’ I continued quietly, ‘is how she followed us there. I mean, was she physically there? Did she walk all that way travelling by night maybe? How did she know where we were?’
‘The ways of the departed are not like ours, Mr Oakley. They see different things and are subject to different rules.’
‘My God!’ I said suddenly—and too loudly, for Father Wiltshire looked up and gave me a reproving glance. ‘Look, the soil on her grave is all disturbed and churned up. She’s been out of there!’
Disvan attempted to calm me. ‘Not necessarily. The earth on her grave hasn’t had time to settle properly yet, and the digging of Harry’s trench would have disturbed hers anyway.’
I remained unplacated, however. ‘Will she rest now, do you think?’
‘Yes, I would imagine so, Mr Oakley. She got her own way in the end. Harry was made to do as he was told and that was all that ever really mattered to her. He’s back in her power now, so perhaps she’ll be satisfied.’
I fell silent and the sun seemed to lose its warmth as I pondered how Mary Morton had spent the hours after leaving our world behind, and by what long weary roads she had travelled to the sea and her moment of victory.
While I was thus lost in thought, the policeman edged his way over to us and discreetly sought our attention.
‘You seem out of sorts, Mr Oakley.’
Mr Disvan answered for me. ‘I believe he is, Stan.’
‘And would I be right in saying it’s because you think that the Morton woman’s finally won?’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘you would be right.’
‘There you are then! Can I tell him, Mr Disvan?’
Disvan mused for a moment and then nodded his head. The constable turned animatedly to me and whispered in my ear.
‘She’s not going to win. Harry is—finally and conclusively and in a fitting manner. We’re not leaving Harry to spend eternity alongside her. We’re going to weigh her down in death the way she weighed Harry down in life, and we’re going to feed her to Harry’s beloved fish in Broadwater Lake.’
‘What on earth do you mean?’
He looked left and right before replying, as if he feared eavesdroppers, even though all those present were well disposed Binscombe folk.
‘What I mean, Mr Oakley, is an unofficial midnight exhumation party. Are you with us?’
I looked at Mr Disvan for confirmation of what I thought I’d heard. He coolly returned my gaze from the edge of his eyes.
‘It seems reasonable, Mr Oakley,’ he said. ‘She forbade Harry to go fishing and Providence appears prepared to let that be enforced, even from beyond the
Once considered, Disvan’s argument seemed unanswerable, but even so a wave of bitterness at Morton’s fate and the world in general swept over me.
‘Whatever happened to the truth, Mr Disvan?’
‘It lost credibility Mr Oakley, and went into hiding.’
‘Amen,’ said the policeman. ‘Put the boat about. Let’s head for home.’
* * *
Mr Morton’s body was washed ashore several days later, ‘slightly bashed about and nibbled by the fishes,’ as the blunt and thick-skinned coastguard told Mr Disvan on the telephone.
After the legal formalities of autopsy and inquest were served, it therefore fell upon us to attend a second and final Morton funeral within the space of a few months. In contrast, however, to the previous occasion, a sizeable crowd of sincere mourners were present at the obsequies and people were arrayed two or three deep around the graveside.
To my horror I saw that it was intended to bury Harry in a double grave with his late wife, and I whispered to Mr Disvan who was beside me.
‘This is appalling. Can’t we do something to prevent it?’
‘On what grounds, Mr Oakley?’ he answered with a shrug.
Once again, as soon as I gave it more than cursory thought, any mention of the truth became obviously impossible.
‘What I don’t understand,’ I continued quietly, ‘is how she followed us there. I mean, was she physically there? Did she walk all that way travelling by night maybe? How did she know where we were?’
‘The ways of the departed are not like ours, Mr Oakley. They see different things and are subject to different rules.’
‘My God!’ I said suddenly—and too loudly, for Father Wiltshire looked up and gave me a reproving glance. ‘Look, the soil on her grave is all disturbed and churned up. She’s been out of there!’
Disvan attempted to calm me. ‘Not necessarily. The earth on her grave hasn’t had time to settle properly yet, and the digging of Harry’s trench would have disturbed hers anyway.’
I remained unplacated, however. ‘Will she rest now, do you think?’
‘Yes, I would imagine so, Mr Oakley. She got her own way in the end. Harry was made to do as he was told and that was all that ever really mattered to her. He’s back in her power now, so perhaps she’ll be satisfied.’
I fell silent and the sun seemed to lose its warmth as I pondered how Mary Morton had spent the hours after leaving our world behind, and by what long weary roads she had travelled to the sea and her moment of victory.
While I was thus lost in thought, the policeman edged his way over to us and discreetly sought our attention.
‘You seem out of sorts, Mr Oakley.’
Mr Disvan answered for me. ‘I believe he is, Stan.’
‘And would I be right in saying it’s because you think that the Morton woman’s finally won?’
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘you would be right.’
‘There you are then! Can I tell him, Mr Disvan?’
Disvan mused for a moment and then nodded his head. The constable turned animatedly to me and whispered in my ear.
‘She’s not going to win. Harry is—finally and conclusively and in a fitting manner. We’re not leaving Harry to spend eternity alongside her. We’re going to weigh her down in death the way she weighed Harry down in life, and we’re going to feed her to Harry’s beloved fish in Broadwater Lake.’
‘What on earth do you mean?’
He looked left and right before replying, as if he feared eavesdroppers, even though all those present were well disposed Binscombe folk.
‘What I mean, Mr Oakley, is an unofficial midnight exhumation party. Are you with us?’
I looked at Mr Disvan for confirmation of what I thought I’d heard. He coolly returned my gaze from the edge of his eyes.
‘It seems reasonable, Mr Oakley,’ he said. ‘She forbade Harry to go fishing and Providence appears prepared to let that be enforced, even from beyond the
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