The Skeleton Man

‘We held the service on that last night, at dusk. It’s bizarre but it was also very beautiful. Colonel Broderick had heard about the service and had sent up flowers from his fields – lilies mainly, I mean hundreds of them, beautifully arranged. It was quite sensational actually, the smell was just astonishing, and I’m not a big fan of that kind of thing, but even I thought it made the service special. I think Kathryn was overwhelmed.

‘The brother, James, dug the grave with his father. Walter had been the sexton for twenty years, he seemed determined to carry on despite the fact it was his own grandson. The service was not well attended. They were ashamed of Kathryn and angry too, so the rest of the village kept its distance. Exactly what they shouldn’t have done, but there it was. It was really difficult. All those emotions, bottled up.’

Dryden searched his face where the shadows fell.

‘We were stood around the tomb, I remember, and we’d lowered the small casket down. Walter had made it with as much love as he could muster – but there was no name, no mark at all. It was St Swithun’s Day of course, and the sun had shone. The village was quiet. There were events planned for later – a dance at the Methodist Hall, games at the inn, and fireworks for after dark – but just then, around five, it was very quiet. And then the door opened and in came George Tudor. He walked up the aisle and found Kathryn, and he took her hand. And they stood there, together, as we covered the child’s coffin over with earth. I always thought it was the bravest thing, what George did. He knew Walter and James and I think he knew they didn’t have it in them to comfort Kathryn, not in public. George was a bachelor, childless, and I think he felt she should have someone with her, that it was wrong just to let a child bury a child alone. And he was a cousin too, on the mother’s side, I think. No doubt the tongues wagged, of course. And who knows, perhaps he was the father. I left them then, when the service was over, but I heard voices later from the vicarage – they were still in the church. Angry voices.’

Dryden nodded, pressing on. ‘So. If someone opened that grave now, today, they’d find a small casket and the bones of a newborn child?’

‘That’s right. The paperwork was all in order. The death was properly registered. And there he lies, Mr Dryden, just two days old, and nothing to take with him but his name – Jude.’

Dryden tried to picture the scene. Dusk falling over the village, and the Neate family making its way home down Church Hill.

‘So the service was at five – what time did they go home? Did George go with them?’

Lake looked up at the sky through the gaps in the wood above. ‘It was all over in twenty minutes. I went back to the vicarage and I saw them leave about half past five – I know it was then because we had a little party planned at the vicarage and that’s when people started arriving. And yes, I think George Tudor went back with them.’

‘Did you see Kathryn again?’

‘No. But I went down to Neate’s Garage later – about eight.’

‘Why?’

‘Before the burial service Kathryn had asked a favour. She wanted to get into Peterborough the next morning and asked if we’d give her a lift. She didn’t say but I know her social worker was there and she’d been in before, when she was pregnant. As I say, I didn’t ask, but the fact that she didn’t explain suggests that was where she was going. I don’t think the family approved of the social worker, of any outsider really, getting involved in the family’s business. The Neates were going straight to the new garage the next morning, so she was stuck.’

‘So you gave her a lift?’

‘I said yes at the time but then we decided, later on, that we’d drive up that night and leave the removal men to load up in peace the following morning. So I went down to say that perhaps they would take her if I had a word – but she’d have to get up to the vicarage by nine or they’d probably be off – we’d packed all the crates, you see, and we didn’t have a lot of furniture of our own. A lot of the church’s stuff had been sold at an auction in the village the week before – that’s what a lot of people did.

‘Anyway, I had to let her know that the arrangements had changed and she’d have to try her luck.’

‘And?’

‘Nothing. She wasn’t in. Jimmy answered the door and we went into the kitchen. George was still there and they’d been drinking, there was a half-drunk bottle of whisky on the table. Walter was upstairs, they said, sleeping it off. I just told them to give her the message, that I couldn’t help with the lift.’

‘What was the atmosphere like? You said they’d argued in the church.’

Lake shrugged. ‘Like I said, George was family really so I guess they’d cleared the air.’

‘And that was it?’