I did not approve of another roadside meeting in daylight. The major was taking this business of staying dead as casually as a game of hide-and-seek. However, he discreetly parked his car among the trees, waiting patiently until I appeared and signalled to him to join me. He showed me three excellent pictures of the turtle, well lit from the opposite window of the laboratory, showing a side view of head and tail and a front view of the head. I noticed for the first time that there was no skeleton, only the curious armadillo-like carapace covering the whole animal.
‘What did Simeon tell you about it?’ he asked.
‘That he had put it up for fun.’
‘Just like him! See you don’t believe it! Think he bought it?’
‘Possibly. But if he just wanted to impress his public a skeleton of a crocodile would have done – and been cheaper.’
Marrin at the time had been holding forth – quite sincerely – on the life of the tideway from lamprey to salmon so that I felt the remains of the turtle were probably from one of the Severn deeps, either discovered by him in the silt or perhaps on the mantelpiece of the lonely cottage of some salmon fisher. I asked the major to run into nearby Bream and come back with a sheet of paper and a stamped envelope. When he returned I sent the photographs to my colleague in the zoology department and asked him to let me know urgently what the creature was, addressing his reply to me at Bream Post Office as I was continually on the move.
‘I’ve been thinking,’ the major said. ‘Simeon could have dug it up down a mine.’
‘What is this about mining?’
‘Keeps a pick and spade and drum of nylon cord in the boot of his car. What for?’
‘To bury my body if it turns up.’
‘Might be anywhere, old boy. Police bound to find it first.’
‘Free bucket of coal? Digging up daffodil bulbs?’
‘Goes off for the day sometimes with Evans and Carver. We ought to follow the car.’
‘You can follow if you like. I’m not risking it,’ I said firmly.
‘What about a false beard or something?’
Typical of him! I had only the clothes I stood up in and my voice was easily recognisable. It was a perfect formula for disaster.
‘Do you know where they go?’
‘Wigpool Common. A company mined for gold there years ago.’
‘Try your luck alone, then, but don’t get caught snooping!’ I reminded him that Marrin was determined to keep his secrets and that friendship would not count at all in an emergency.
‘Locals say there is an underground lake. Bloody rabbit warren, they say. Full of tunnels. Iron. Romans. Why would they want an underground lake anyway?’
‘Communing with spirits of the earth.’
‘Ah yes! Hadn’t thought of that. Very reasonable.’
‘But gold more reasonable still, you think?’
‘Might be both.’
‘Snow White and the seven dwarfs?’
‘You mustn’t laugh at legends, Piers. There’s always some truth in them if you can spot where it is. Next time I’m going to watch ’em.’
I told him to be very careful that afterwards he wasn’t watched himself, and I insisted he should not try to meet me until I told him when and where. Meanwhile all communications should be by the stump of the sapling, and I would call there every morning.
No doubt the major was on to something of interest, relevant or not. I would have liked to know what was the significance of Wigpool Common, but this new eccentricity of Marrin and his inner circle confirmed how helpless I was. I could watch the comings and goings at Broom Lodge; I could explore the banks of the Severn; but I could not follow Marrin if he left by car and most certainly not in company with the major whose distinctive Humber was sure to be spotted. If asked by Marrin what the devil he thought he was doing, his only hope was to stutter one of his staccato replies which could mean anything.
So, when the major had driven away, there was nothing for it but to walk home to my comfortable ex-lavatory, stopping on the way to buy a daily papei: with any other reading matter that Bream might have and, if there was an off-licence, supplies of something better than my coal-tasting stream.
Bream was far enough from Broom Lodge to make it unlikely that any members of the commune would be about. Their normal shopping town was Lydney. After sliding, not too obviously, from cover to cover like a soldier afraid of snipers, I completed my purchases, passed the butcher’s, saw some mutton kidneys in the window and thought how good they would be grilled on a wooden spit. When I had paid for them and was just going out, Elsa appeared from the living quarters behind the shop.
‘Piers!’
‘And you – what are you doing here?’
‘Selling black puddings. I thought you were in Wales.’
‘Are you alone? Did anyone drive you over?’
‘I bicycled. I’m trying to get a contract from dear Mr Willets.’
‘And she’s got it,’ said Mr Willets, impressed by the ‘dear’ in such a lovely mouth.
‘At forty pence a pound?’
‘Don’t leave me much profit, Miss Marrin, but it’s a deal.’
We walked out together, myself torn between the delight of seeing her and anxiety lest this might be the end of my staying dead.
‘You haven’t shaved and you smell of coal and dried leaves,’ she said.
‘Only my clothes. It’s just that I slept rough last night. I couldn’t find a room anywhere so I played Robin Hood in the green wood.’
‘Come back with me and clean up!’
That gave me an opportunity. ‘Think how hurt they would be if I just came back to have a bath and cleared off!’
‘Then come back and stay with us again! You’d be welcome. Simeon liked you.’
I said that I knew that and had liked him. It wasn’t a lie, I had. ‘But you know how difficult it was for us,’ I reminded her.
‘I don’t care if we do shock them.’
‘But much better if we can meet and you don’t say a word. When can I see you?’
‘Whenever you like, if you do like.’
‘Tomorrow afternoon in your dell?’
‘If I can.’
She pedalled off. I was fairly confident that she would not speak of our meeting, not for the reason I had given but because she knew instinctively that I had a better reason and had not told her all the truth.
For the rest of the day there was nothing for it but to be patient and wish to God that she was not the fond niece of Simeon Marrin. Next morning I went over to the woods behind Broom Lodge to see if the major had left any message for me. I was now familiar with the shortest route by tracks and footpaths through the Forest and often passed the time of day with other walkers. That was unimportant since no one knew who I was. The risk of meeting any of the colonists was very slight. They were dutifully busy at their tasks with neither time nor inclination for casual strolls.
I found a report from the major, militarily precise and piously long, which I had to read more than twice before it was clear that even for him mining was ruled out. He had gone to Wigpool Common on foot in the afternoon and apparently behaved as sensibly as any private investigator. Tea at a teashop. One pub at eighteen hours. Another at eighteen-thirty. I think soldiers must be trained to leave out all illuminating details in their reports. Yes, the place was riddled with underground shafts but the entrances were all blocked up. Iron mining it had been, not coal. Yes, there was supposed to be a large cavern with a pool in it. Strangers had been casually poking about after gold for years, encouraged by rumours rather than geology. A tall man with one or two companions often drove out and was digging near the Bailey Rock. Not for gold. They were in the wrong place for that. They didn’t say much, and were accepted as geologists.