Tainted Ground Read Free Page A

least I could now devote myself to the screenplay when not helping Elspeth with chores. It transpired that she had many friends in the area, who took her off to their homes for coffee, bridge and supper parties, so I made myself at home with a makeshift desk in a box room used for storage and got to work. In between sessions I walked to get some fresh air and exercise, exploring the village and the surrounding maze of country lanes. At least the weather had improved, having turned cold, clear and breezy.
    Patrick’s nightly phone calls told of medicals, fitness tests – which rather surprised me – that had weeded out the candidates by about ten per cent, hours in classrooms, a written road-knowledge test and, in the latest call on the Thursday, that an hour or so in the morning had been spent square-bashing at Hendon Police College, which had caused another three people to walk out in disgust. This had been followed by a visit to a shooting range where, after throwing down a gentle challenge, he had out-scored the instructor.
    â€˜Didn’t you mind the square-bashing?’ I asked.
    â€˜Lord, no. It was only to get rid of those who thought they were too grand to have to do things like that. Besides which, you have to know how to carry yourself if you’re attending passing-out parades. Oh, I’ll be home for the weekend.’
    â€˜Have you been accepted?’
    â€˜No one’s saying anything yet. Probably to keep everyone on a knife-edge. Some of the guys, ladies included, are all of a twitch about it, but what’s the point? I got annoyed when the sprouts were overcooked two nights running, though.’
    John, in his own wry words, was ‘delivered unto the bosom of his family’ on the following Wednesday, arriving with written instructions concerning gentle exercises, especially walking, and a diet sheet that Elspeth took one look at and then tore to confetti.
    â€˜It’s for idiots who can’t cook,’ she snorted. ‘Canned soup rather than takeaways! Not too many chips and burgers! Easy on the fizzy drinks and Coke!’ Eyes flashing, she regarded her husband, who was somewhat frailly inhabiting an armchair. ‘This evening you’ll have fresh salmon with parsley sauce, new potatoes and broccoli – which is exactly the sort of thing all invalids should be eating.’
    â€˜I’m allowed to have a small tot of whisky before dinner,’ he told her, chin jutting.
    â€˜I don’t remember reading that,’ she countered.
    He wagged a finger at her. ‘You’ve just condemned the instructions utterly. And, my dear, I’m supposed to avoid all contentiousness.’
    â€˜Whoever wrote that wouldn’t even know what the word meant,’ Elspeth said triumphantly but she was smiling as she left the room.
    Patrick and I had spent the weekend generally making ourselves useful, and early on the Monday he had set off for Portishead, just as I had guessed he might, but still with no confirmation that he had been accepted into the scheme. As far as my work was concerned I was galloping through the screenplay, which actually involved rewriting my own work of several years previously, bringing it up to date and making improvements as I went along. Recent involvement in the making of a film was proving to be a huge help.
    Then, on the Thursday, Patrick came home shortly before dinner with an indiscernible look on his face.
    â€˜I’m in,’ he said simply. ‘And start Monday morning.’
    Everyone offered him their congratulations.
    To me, Patrick said, ‘You were right, John Brinkley’s involved, he rang me and broke the good news before I heard officially.’
    â€˜You don’t seem to be as pleased as you might be,’ I said.
    â€˜I’m to report to Manvers Street police station, Bath. I have to say I wasn’t expecting it.’
    â€˜But that’s wonderful!’ Elspeth cried.