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.

‘June 1968,’ said Cooper. ‘They were dismantling at the end of an exercise. Three observers on a shift, as usual. The young man who died was Jimmy Hind.’

Fry had brought a drink of water to her desk. Archives made her mouth feel dry, even when they were digital. She could practically feel the dust on the back of her throat. But it was such a relief to be back at work properly. She felt much more at ease now, restored to her own environment, with Cooper back in his chair, head bent over a file. Enough socializing for now.

‘The other two people involved were . . . ?’ she said.

‘The first was Leslie Michael Clay – he was leading observer, the number one in charge of the post during the shift.’