‘So the posts must have been re-organized. Including 8 Group?’

‘Of course. In fact, it was only after the re-organization that we became part of 8 Group. Until 1968, we were 18 Group here. Based in Leeds, that was.’

‘Really?’

Headon laughed. ‘It’s a long way from Leeds, I know – but that’s just the way they divided the country. Edendale was Post 18/R5 back then. We were part of the 18 Group R-Cluster, along with Buxton and Baslow, and Hope. And Birchlow, too.’

Fry and Cooper looked at each other. ‘Birchlow?’

‘Yes, Post 4. That was one they closed. The clusters became bigger, and this area was moved into Coventry district instead of Leeds. Those earlier posts were just handed back to the landowners. And you know how much care some farmers take of historic sites on their land.’

‘Why didn’t you mention the Birchlow post before?’ said Cooper.

‘Because of its history. It’s best to let sleeping dogs lie, isn’t it? People in Birchlow don’t like anyone poking their noses into old trouble.’

Cooper sighed. The old man with the clock, Mr Wakeley, had almost told him this when Cooper visited his home in Eyam on Wednesday. Skeletons in the cupboard, that was what he’d said. Was there some kind of family feud here that went back over the decades? The sort of story that everyone knew about, and no one ever mentioned. In a small community, people who hated each other had no chance of avoiding contact, as they might in a city. So they did the next best thing, and kept their mouth shut. He should have pushed Mr Wakeley to explain what he meant, but at the time he’d put it down to an old man just wanting someone to talk to.

‘I think you’d better tell us about it, David,’ said Cooper. ‘We’re going to find out now, one way or another.’

Headon stared into his glass. ‘Someone died. A boy got killed.’

Chapter Thirty-nine

‘I DON’T REALLY understand this, Ben,’ said Fry. ‘But we need to know more about these deaths. You’re right – there is some connection, isn’t there?’

‘I think so, Diane. But I just can’t see why, or what the link is.’

‘I’ll make a few calls. It should all be on record.’

‘What about Pauline Outram? Do you think she knows more than she told us?’

Fry thought for a moment. ‘No. She was genuine. Don’t forget, she never knew her mother, or her father either. She has no memories of her own from that time, and none that have been passed down to her, either.’

‘And everyone else in Birchlow seems to have decided not to talk about it.’

‘We’ll see.’

THE ARCHIVES TOOK a lot of tracking down on a Sunday. Without the internet and digital archiving, they would have had to wait another day. But, over the course of the afternoon, they dug out newspaper reports of the original incident, an inquest report, photographs of some of the individuals involved. Bit by bit, they managed to piece together the story. The story of the Birchlow observer post.