vegetable towards
me, as if passing on the baton in a relay.
‘Yes … Mama’s got the
chills. Nothing a bit of warm broth can’t cure.’ I took the leek from her
with both hands and she turned her eyes back to the ground.
‘Mrs Shelton, if you please, I have
come to check the farmhouse,’ began the warden.
‘Whatever for, sir?’ she asked,
not looking up from her trowel.
‘I have been informed that your family
may have become embroiled in some clandestine activity.’
‘Clandestine,’ she murmured.
‘I can’t think where you might have heard such a thing.’
‘We have eyes and ears in all sorts of
places, Mrs Shelton. Eyes and ears.’ He placed his hands behind his back and
peered towards the front door of the farmhouse. ‘Is Mr Shelton at home, I wonder?
I hope it won’t be necessary to obtain a warrant.’
‘My husband is working in the fields.
And, sir, there is certainly no need for a warrant. We are all friends here. I will show
you around myself.’
‘Thank you,’ he replied,
straightening his back.
She rose from the vegetable patch in one
single motion and wiped her blackened hands on her apron. The warden followed her inside
the house while I sneaked round to the back to spy on them through the dining-room
window. I could just make out three of the six Shelton children gawping through the oak
banisters in the hallway, faces dirty from an afternoon’s work. The warden checked
everywhere for the pig – he even rolled back the dining-room rug in search of a
trap-door. Once he had finished with the house, he conducted a methodical search of the
barns, only to return to the front garden empty-handed.
‘Thank you for your time,’ he
muttered to Mrs Shelton at the gate, clearly unconvinced of her innocence. I stood with
my back against the side of the house, fingers clawing at the bricks, watching.
‘And thank you for yours, sir. You
were more than thorough.’ She unleashed a smile – similar to the one she had given
me earlier.
The warden frowned and started towards the
house, before concluding that there was no point in searching again. ‘I’ll
be off, then,’ he said curtly, tipping his hat in her direction as he made his way
down the farm track to go back to the village.
Once he was out of sight, I came out of my
hiding place, accidentally kicking over an empty pail on my way. Mrs Shelton turned
towards me calmly, as if she had been aware of my presence all along.
‘I suppose you want to know where it
is,’ she addressed me.
I nodded back at her eagerly, not quite
believing that she might let me in on the secret.
‘You mustn’t tell anyone, do you
hear?’
I shook my head. ‘I won’t
breathe a word, Mrs Shelton, I promise.’
‘Not even your father. He’s a
good man. But he can’t know.’
‘What about Pete?’ I asked
tentatively.
‘The Archams’ lad?’
‘Yes.’
‘That boy knows everything that goes
on in this place as it is.’ She smiled. ‘He’s Imber’s
spy.’
She led me through the hall and into the
dining room where she proceeded to heave a large wooden dresser back on its haunches,
causing it to take one cumbersome step across the floorboards. I smelt the meat before I
saw it, running a finger over the seamless wall, confused. As I reached the centre of
the space behind the dresser, the consistency of the wall changed from solid to soft, as
if there were nothing behind the wallpaper but air. I breathed in.
‘Give the paper a push,’ said Mrs
Shelton. ‘We might as well break in. I promised the children a pork dinner. It was
the only way to keep them quiet.’
She nodded towards the wallpaper, which was
covered with thin navy blue stripes. I placed a palm on the wall again, feeling my way
into the space where the paper became flimsy. Pushing harder, I made a puncture, then
tore off the sheet cleanly in a strip. There was a cupboard-like alcove behind it and I
could just make out the head of the pig, buried deep in a salt trough. The
me, as if passing on the baton in a relay.
‘Yes … Mama’s got the
chills. Nothing a bit of warm broth can’t cure.’ I took the leek from her
with both hands and she turned her eyes back to the ground.
‘Mrs Shelton, if you please, I have
come to check the farmhouse,’ began the warden.
‘Whatever for, sir?’ she asked,
not looking up from her trowel.
‘I have been informed that your family
may have become embroiled in some clandestine activity.’
‘Clandestine,’ she murmured.
‘I can’t think where you might have heard such a thing.’
‘We have eyes and ears in all sorts of
places, Mrs Shelton. Eyes and ears.’ He placed his hands behind his back and
peered towards the front door of the farmhouse. ‘Is Mr Shelton at home, I wonder?
I hope it won’t be necessary to obtain a warrant.’
‘My husband is working in the fields.
And, sir, there is certainly no need for a warrant. We are all friends here. I will show
you around myself.’
‘Thank you,’ he replied,
straightening his back.
She rose from the vegetable patch in one
single motion and wiped her blackened hands on her apron. The warden followed her inside
the house while I sneaked round to the back to spy on them through the dining-room
window. I could just make out three of the six Shelton children gawping through the oak
banisters in the hallway, faces dirty from an afternoon’s work. The warden checked
everywhere for the pig – he even rolled back the dining-room rug in search of a
trap-door. Once he had finished with the house, he conducted a methodical search of the
barns, only to return to the front garden empty-handed.
‘Thank you for your time,’ he
muttered to Mrs Shelton at the gate, clearly unconvinced of her innocence. I stood with
my back against the side of the house, fingers clawing at the bricks, watching.
‘And thank you for yours, sir. You
were more than thorough.’ She unleashed a smile – similar to the one she had given
me earlier.
The warden frowned and started towards the
house, before concluding that there was no point in searching again. ‘I’ll
be off, then,’ he said curtly, tipping his hat in her direction as he made his way
down the farm track to go back to the village.
Once he was out of sight, I came out of my
hiding place, accidentally kicking over an empty pail on my way. Mrs Shelton turned
towards me calmly, as if she had been aware of my presence all along.
‘I suppose you want to know where it
is,’ she addressed me.
I nodded back at her eagerly, not quite
believing that she might let me in on the secret.
‘You mustn’t tell anyone, do you
hear?’
I shook my head. ‘I won’t
breathe a word, Mrs Shelton, I promise.’
‘Not even your father. He’s a
good man. But he can’t know.’
‘What about Pete?’ I asked
tentatively.
‘The Archams’ lad?’
‘Yes.’
‘That boy knows everything that goes
on in this place as it is.’ She smiled. ‘He’s Imber’s
spy.’
She led me through the hall and into the
dining room where she proceeded to heave a large wooden dresser back on its haunches,
causing it to take one cumbersome step across the floorboards. I smelt the meat before I
saw it, running a finger over the seamless wall, confused. As I reached the centre of
the space behind the dresser, the consistency of the wall changed from solid to soft, as
if there were nothing behind the wallpaper but air. I breathed in.
‘Give the paper a push,’ said Mrs
Shelton. ‘We might as well break in. I promised the children a pork dinner. It was
the only way to keep them quiet.’
She nodded towards the wallpaper, which was
covered with thin navy blue stripes. I placed a palm on the wall again, feeling my way
into the space where the paper became flimsy. Pushing harder, I made a puncture, then
tore off the sheet cleanly in a strip. There was a cupboard-like alcove behind it and I
could just make out the head of the pig, buried deep in a salt trough. The
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