The Skeleton Man

‘Then I got an e-mail from Colonel Flanders May, outlining how he’d undertaken the survey of Jude’s Ferry in the days after the evacuation. Apparently there was this young TA cadet who volunteered. He knew your father, didn’t he? So there was no problem getting a temporary posting. Terrific help apparently, lots of local knowledge, trawled through the questionnaires making sure nothing had been missed. It can’t have been difficult I guess, steering them clear of the outbuildings. Woodruffe did a good job covering the trapdoor. But it must have been a comfort to them, to know you’d be there, that you’d always be there. And when the worst happened you made sure they all knew, and that they knew what the plan was, who they should blame when the police started asking questions. What you didn’t know was that your friend was the real killer that night, and you’d snapped the neck of an innocent boy. But you know now. Did he tell you when you visited him at the hospital that day?’

Broderick’s face froze, a vein on his forehead knotted with stress. ‘If I’d known the truth I’d have stopped it then,’ he said. ‘You can’t prove any of this.’

‘I know that. You’re quite safe. I’m just curious, you know, curious to know if you were glad to see Peter Tholy’s head lolling on a broken neck.’

Broderick clipped his heels together. ‘I must go.’ He examined the braiding on his military cap. ‘I felt lots of emotions that night,’ he said. ‘We made a mistake, many mistakes, but I’m going to have to live with that.’

‘Yes. I’m afraid you are, that’s all the justice there is in Jude’s Ferry.’

Postscript

Jimmy Neate was cremated in Peterborough. Julie Watts attended but, seeing a press photographer, fled before the brief ceremony began. Walter Neate was taken by ambulance to the chapel and was the only mourner. He refused to comment on the case. A statement was issued by the health authority which ran the home in which he was a resident pointing out that he wished to be left in peace to grieve for his children, and his grandson.

Magda Hollingsworth’s bones were buried in Ely in the town cemetery, just a few minutes’ walk from her daughter’s house. Dryden attended a crowded funeral service. The lesson was read by a representative from the University of Surrey, and tribute was paid to Magda’s years of sympathetic observation of her fellow villagers at Jude’s Ferry.

Peter Tholy’s bones remained in police custody for some time. Australian police officers finally contacted his mother to inform her of her son’s death. She said she didn’t care what happened to her son’s remains as long as they didn’t send her a bill. Major Broderick paid for cremation in lieu of the £10,000 cheque from his father Peter Tholy never cashed. The ashes are interred at Ely Crematorium and marked by a simple stone plaque.