Interrupted Journey

Chapter 5 - Farm

There is something almost magical about the moment that an unknown trail transforms into a familiar one. Mary and I had walked up onto this ridge many times from the farm but I must have missed the turnoff we would normally take to a lookout spot and it only gradually dawned on me that I knew the path quite well.

When the farmhouse came into view around a shoulder of the ridge, I paused and looked down on the place that had always felt slightly foreign to me even though it had been Mary's childhood home. It was a substantial house made of the local limestone with a slate roof. To the right was a barn where supplies were kept. It also had a large open space usually occupied by the working dogs. Across the yard was a workshop where the farm machinery was stored.

The farm was nestled into a narrow, flat bottomed valley with steep sides. The fields always looked particularly green, highlighted by the high, white drystone walls and the white flashes of sheep. There was a small stream along the bottom of the valley bordered by a couple of low bushy trees. A narrow lane ran down the valley past the six small farms to a bridge where it joined the main valley and a slightly wider lane.

I stood there, wondering whether this place would offer us the sanctuary we were going to need in the coming months. But, gradually, I became aware of a familiar but unexpected sound from down below and I called out to Mike. There was an engine running. I listened carefully: it was a diesel engine and, though it sounded pretty rough, it was, nevertheless, running.

Looking down the valley I was not surprised to see the flash of Ken's old van and I immediately had a bad feeling. Ken was Mary's younger brother and had always been something of a problem for the family. He had been encouraged to leave the army - I never really found out the details of that - and now his ex-wife was living up on the farm with their daughter while Ken lived in a tumbledown cottage a couple of miles away, near the town of Greenings down the main valley on the 'New Road'.

We were rolling carefully down the rutted pathway when the early evening calm was shattered by shouting then a single shot.

Mike braked sharply and was rolling to the ground before the bike stopped. I tried to do the same - though much less elegantly.

Abandoning the bikes, we crawled over the crest of the hill then, crouching low, we made our way along the ridge towards the house to a dry stone wall. From here we could make our way to a point just above the house without being seen. We looked over the wall and surveyed the scene below.

Tom, Mary's father was lying on the floor clearly badly wounded. Ken was kneeling over him and crying. He was holding a pistol in his hand and, though he was waving it around alarmingly, he did not seem to be threatening anyone.

"I'll take the shot," Mike said as he took the rifle from my rucksack. "But you'll have to tell me who and when."

"I was only coming for our Angie," Ken was shouting at his father. "You should have let her come with me."

"I've told you before, Ken," a voice rang out from the farmhouse door just out of sight. It sounded like Alice, his mother. "She ain't goin' with you no more. You just 'ave to..."

She was cut short as somebody with a rifle jumped up from behind Ken's van and fired a shot towards the house.

"You're not going to hurt my Mam!" Ken said, climbing to his feet and walking towards the van, waving his pistol menacingly. You are not..."

Ken was spun around and hurled to the ground as a bullet smashed into him from close range.

That clarified the matter for me. I gave the slightest of nods and the shooter was thrown into the air and, I suspect, was dead before he hit the ground. The other man jumped back, exposing himself to Alice who instantly shot him.

"It's me, Mam," I called down to Alice after a few seconds. "Is that all of them?"

"Ay," she answered.

"OK, we're coming down then," I told her. "There's two of us."

Alice came out of the house with a shotgun pointed towards the two men who were lying, unmoving on the floor. She walked down towards them, flinching slightly as she walked past her husband and, without taking her gun off them, kicked their weapons away.

"Dead or close enough," she said in a flat, emotionless tone.

She returned to Ken who was lying on the ground, whimpering.

"I'm sorry, Mam," he mumbled between his tears. "I never meant to 'urt 'im. All I wanted was to bring Angie back home."

"I know... quiet now," she answered, kneeling down next to him and gently taking his hand. "Now close your eyes and tell Jesus you're sorry for all the bad things you've done."

After a few seconds she released his hand, stood up, collected his pistol and smoothly put a bullet into his head.

"You killed him," I said, astonished, as I walked down towards her.

"'Appen," she replied in her familiar terse tone. "There weren't nowt we could do for 'im any road." She went over to where her husband was lying, checked for a pulse then closed his eyes. I let her have a few seconds then went over and put my arms round her.