Kate heard the distinctive noises of heavy objects being moved inside the house, and then came the sound of bolts being withdrawn and keys turned. Eventually, the door opened to reveal the tiny figure of Mrs Thompson.

  ‘It’s like Fort Knox here!’ smiled Kate, is there any need to barricade yourself in like this, Jane?’

  ‘I’m frightened at night, Dr Rowan, I’m terrified, honest I am. I push a chest of drawers against the door. I’ve told our Jennifer all about it but she thinks I’m making it all up.’

  ‘Making what up?’

  ‘Those telephone calls, and prowlers outside, banging on my doors and windows, making noises, frightening noises.’

  ‘How long has this been happening?’ Kate was horrified.

  ‘Over the past few weeks. It started well after Charlie, that’s my husband, passed on.’

  ‘Can we talk about it inside?’ Kate asked.

  ‘Yes, thanks, come in, I’ll put the kettle on.’

  Over a cup of tea in Jane’s neat and tidy kitchen, with pot plants upon every surface, the old lady poured out her heart to Kate. It seemed that over the last six or eight weeks, someone had been conducting a campaign of terror against her. Late at night, the telephone would ring and when she answered it, there would be no voice at the other end, just the sound of deep breathing and terrifying groans. The usual time for the calls was between eleven o’clock and midnight. And earlier in the evening, when she was sitting by her fire, she would hear noises outside, knocking on her door, but when she opened it, there would be no one there.

  Another trick was to scrape something down the glass of her kitchen window so that it made a screeching noise. Sometimes there would the sound of tins being rattled and bells ringing. It all took place outside the house and at night, under the cover of darkness.

  ‘Why didn’t you tell my husband?’ Kate asked.

  ‘I couldn’t see the point. I told our Jennifer and her husband, but they thought I was imagining things. Eric, that’s my son-in-law, well, he said it was the wind rattling things and howling around the house.’

  ‘And could that be the case?’ Kate asked.

  ‘Yes, I suppose it could. I mean, it is an exposed site up here and I must admit the wind makes some funny noises at times. Then when I mentioned the phone calls, he said it would be kids messing about or somebody getting the wrong number. But it isn’t, Dr Rowan. I’m not senile and I know which is wind noises and which isn’t, and I know a nuisance phone call when I get one.’

  ‘I think it would be sensible if my husband came to talk to you about the phone calls and things. I believe you, Jane, and I’m sure Jennifer does. She’s very worried about you, she told me what was happening.’

  ‘They want me to go and live with them,’ said Jane. ‘They’re a nice couple, they’ve been good to me in the past but they don’t want me living with them. Their way of life’s not like mine, and I’d be in the way.’

  ‘I’m sure you wouldn’t be in the way! They wouldn’t ask if they didn’t mean it!’ Kate said.

  ‘I’d prefer to keep living here, in spite of all those noises and phone calls. Jennifer comes to see me every day. Her house is just along the lane so it’s not as if she lives miles away.’

  ‘Right,’ said Kate. ‘I’ll explain all this to my husband and he’ll come to see you. You tell him everything. He might be able to get the telephone exchange to intercept your calls.’

  ‘Idon’t want to be a nuisance to anybody. Will it cost anything, to get them to intercept my calls?’

  Kate shook her head reassuringly. ‘No, not a penny, and it’s not being a nuisance, Jane. The exchange will want to stop those calls just as much as you do. And Nick will keep a watch outside, just in case somebody is prowling about. Look, in future whenever you think somebody’s is roaming about outside, just ring us. You’ve got the number?’

  ‘Yes, Jennifer wrote it down for me, but I didn’t like to be a nuisance. Thank you so much, Dr Rowan. It has made me feel happier. Now, more tea?’

  ‘No thanks, I’ve lots more calls to make.’

  ‘But you’ve time for a quick look in my greenhouse? I have some nice border plants just coming on, and some lettuces. I can let you have some seedlings, you’ll both be too busy to attend to the garden, I expect.’

  ‘We don’t get a lot of time for that sort of thing,’ Kate admitted. ‘Thanks. Come along, show me your famous greenhouse.’

  While Kate was inspecting the beautiful array of young plants in Jane’s greenhouse and admiring the stunning views across Raymond Walker’s land, Claude Jeremiah Greengrass was trudging through the countryside not very far away. As always, he was accompanied by the faithful Alfred.

  The pair of them were heading for the point where yesterday morning Claude had been confronted by Raymond Walker. This time, however, Claude was not using the public footpath. He was moving quickly along under the cover of shrubs and trees, dodging between the drystone walls and high hawthorn hedgerows as he made his way towards Walker’s land. The reason for his urgent errand was that he had seen a builder’s lorry head this way not many minutes earlier. In the back there had been some fencing posts and barbed-wire netting, and it was making for Walker’s land, but not by a conventional route. It had slipped along the bridleway which led past Jane Thompson’s cottage before disappearing into the woodland below.

  But the noise it had made during its progress through the wood had enabled Claude to identify its location and so he was now heading that way, dodging between the trees like a wraith, with Alfred on his heels. It didn’t take him long to find the lorry. It was parked at the edge of the wood, just off the beaten track, and two men had unloaded the contents of the lorry and were working on the path.

  Claude watched in silence. Very soon, he realised that they were erecting a barbed-wire fence which completely blocked the right of way. The high posts were hammered into the ground and made secure, then strands of barbed wire were linked to them, some of it being supported by the surrounding trees. Claude looked about him - there was no way through except by this route. Eventually, when the men had finished, they took a signboard from the lorry and erected it beside the fence. Its message read, ‘PRIVATE LAND. KEEP OUT.’

  ‘You bugger, Walker!’ cursed Greengrass. ‘I’ll fettle you, so I will!’

  With no further ado, he loped back into Aidensfield, closely attended by Alfred. He found Nick just mounting his motorcycle outside Mostyn’s Garage after filling his tank with two-stroke mixture.

  ‘Mr Rowan,’ he said, ‘you’d better come with me and be sharp about it. I’ve summat to show you!’

  ‘Important, is it?’

  ‘Aye, very. Very important to this community, it is. Come along, the walk’ll do you good.’

  Nick left his motorbike and accompanied Claude Jeremiah Greengrass into the woodland, avoiding the public footpath and wondering if he was to be confronted by a gun-wielding farmer. They soon arrived at the site of the new fence, which Claude pointed out with a grand gesture.

  ‘That’s why he didn’t want me using that path, Mr Rowan, he wants to block it off. He put that fence up not an hour ago.’

  ‘But nobody except you uses this path, do they?’ Nick asked, it’s overgrown, it’s impassable anyway! There’s no

  point in keeping footpaths open if folks aren’t going to use them.’

  ‘But it’s on all the maps, Constable. It’s been there for centuries, you can’t just block off a footpath, it’s against the law.’

  ‘Not against the criminal law, Claude, and my job is to enforce the criminal law, not the civil law.’

  ‘Does that mean you aren’t going to tell him to take that fence down?’

  ‘I can’t, Claude, it’s not within my power. It’s a civil matter, a job for the civil courts. Somebody like the Ramblers’ Association or the Ashfordly Hikers’ Club could make representations. Or even take a civil court action.’

  ‘Can anybody do that, then? Take a civil court action?’

  ‘Yes, the law’s there for everybody to use.’

  ‘So how would I go about starting off a civil action against this chap?’

  ‘You would have to see a solicitor first,’ said Nick. ‘And it would cost you money, legal charges and so on.’

  ‘You forget I’m a man of means now, Constable, I have money in the bank and I’m very capable of fighting for my rights. And this is one of them, the right for me and Alfred to walk along that path whenever we want, without restriction or hindrance. That applies to anybody else that happens to want to use it in the years to come.’

  ‘Well, if it’s going to make you happy, Claude, and do a public service, I wish you the best of luck.’

  ‘You’ll have to be my witness,’ beamed Claude.

  ‘Me?’ cried Nick.

  ‘Aye, you, I’ve shown you that fence, which means I can summons you to attend court, as my witness, against that blackguard Walker.’

  ‘Is it that important, Claude?’

  ‘If it teaches somebody not to fire shotguns at me and Alfred, then yes, it’s very important.’

  ‘Right, well, Claude. Count me in. Between us, we’ll show that man what the great British public can do!’

  As Nick left the wood, he spotted Kate’s car leaving Jane’s cottage; she pulled up at his side and smiled.

  ‘I’ve bought some lovely little plants for you to put in the garden, when you’ve mowed the lawn and cleared the weeds,’ she said slyly.

  ‘Me, a gardener?’ he laughed. ‘That’s your job!’

  Kate ignored him, adding, ‘And while you’re here, will you pop in and see Jane Thompson? She has a lot to tell you.’

  ‘More telephone calls?’ he asked.

  ‘And a prowler!’ she said, driving off.

  ‘Your work never stops, does it, Constable,’ smiled Claude Jeremiah, it’s nice to be wanted!’

  ‘You’ve not been prowling around Jane’s cottage, have you, Claude?’ Nick asked more out of humour than seriousness.

  ‘Would I do that?’ he said. ‘No, lad, I’m not one for upsetting widows who live in cottages others might want.’

  ‘What do you mean, Claude? Cottages others might want?’

  ‘Well, it stands to reason, doesn’t it? That bit of land Jane’s cottage is on is right next to Walker’s farm isn’t it?

  He had a go at getting it years ago, but Charlie, that’s her dead husband, refused. But Walker won’t have given up. If he could buy this land, he could expand his own farm and get access to more land the other side of Jane’s, over the road. There’s some good building sites over there. Jane’s little house is worth a mint, Mr Rowan. Bear that in mind when you’re making your enquires.’ ‘I will, thanks, Claude.’

  ‘One good turn deserves another, even if it means helping the constabulary,’ grumbled Greengrass as he turned away towards the village.

  ‘You are being public-spirited today!’ smiled Nick.

  ‘And,’ Claude added, ‘I’m out and about at night myself. I’ll keep an eye on the spot! I might just drop across somebody prowling about.’

  ‘I think you might know who’s behind all this, Claude.’

  But Claude Jeremiah Greengrass just chuckled and went on his way.

  Nick found Jane in her greenhouse where she was listening to some pop music on her transistor radio. At his arrival, she turned off the set.

  ‘You’re a fan of The Who, are you?’ he smiled.

  ‘And Herman’s Hermits, and my plants like the music, too.’ She smiled wickedly. ‘It makes them grow better! You did get here quickly. I was only just talking to your wife.’

  ‘We met down the lane,’ he said. ‘Can you tell me about all these bits of bother you’ve been having?’

  And so, for the second time that day, Jane Thompson explained the occurrences, detailing them with a clarity

  that suggested to Nick that they were not part of her imagination; he was convinced these things had actually happened. He listened carefully, making notes where necessary.

  ‘Mrs Thompson,’ he said eventually, ‘you appreciate that your house stands on some very attractive land? ‘Local landowners would pay handsomely for it.’ ‘Yes, I know, but Charlie would never part with it, he said it was mine for life and I must never leave it. And I have no intention of leaving. Jennifer and Eric keep asking me to live with them, but I don’t want to. This is my home, Mr Rowan, and nobody is going to force me to leave.’

  ‘So you’ve no idea who’s causing these nuisances?’

  ‘No, and neither has Charlie.’

  ‘Charlie?’

  ‘Charlie, my husband. He keeps me informed.’

  ‘But I thought he had died?’ said Nick.

  ‘Yes, he did, a year or so ago,’ she said quite calmly.

  ‘Look,’ he said, trying to dismiss the last remarks, ‘I’ll have words with the telephone exchange and they’ll monitor your incoming calls until we tell them to stop. We can soon find out who’s behind all this. And if you hear prowlers outside again, ring me straight away, or ring Ashfordly Police if I’m not in; they’ll send somebody out to check the area.’

  ‘Yes, all right, Mr Rowan. And thank you for your attention.’

  ‘I mean it, Jane, you must call me.’

  ‘Yes, of course I will. Now I’d better be off. Jennifer will have my lunch ready. I mustn’t be late, must I?’

  ‘I’d give you a lift, but I walked here,’ said Nick.

  “Then you can escort me to my daughter’s,’ she beamed. That’ll be something to talk about at the old folks’ fitness club!’ And she chuckled away to herself at the thought.

  That night, Nick and Kate had their supper in front of the blazing fire while watching television. It was a cosy evening and they had been discussing Jane Thompson.

  ‘I’m not sure about her mental condition, Kate,’ Nick said. ‘I mean, she talks about Charlie as if he’s still alive, but she knows he’s dead. She told me Charlie had no idea who was plaguing her with telephone calls.’

  ‘She’s not batty, Nick, I know she’s not.’

  ‘But she did have a breakdown, didn’t she? After Charlie died?’

  ‘Yes, that’s often a way of purging grief.’

  ‘So she’s not entirely sane?’

  ‘She’s as sane as you and me, Nick Rowan!’

  He laughed, then changed tack. ‘Claude told me that Walker’s been interested in that cottage for years; he made several attempts to buy it when Charlie was alive. I wonder if he’s trying to force her out? I mean, she is getting on, and she’s been invited to live with Jennifer and Eric, so if Walker could persuade her to do that, he could offer to buy the cottage, thereby expanding his empire. If he’s ruthless enough to block a right of way, then he’s certainly capable of using dirty tricks to buy a property he’s set his heart on.’

  ‘I’ve never thought of Raymond Walker as being that type of person,’ said Kate.

  ‘He’s a hard-headed businessman, Kate and he strikes me as being the sort of guy who always gets what he wants, whatever the cost to others. He’ll be blocking that footpath in the hope that people will stop using it and then forget about it - though he hasn’t bargained for Claude! I don’t think he’d think twice about terrifying Jane to get her out of her house.’

  ‘Thanks for calling in to talk to her,’ Kate said, it must be awful for her, all this harassment.’

  ‘I’m having her telephone monitored,’ he said, ‘I made the arrangements this afternoon and I’ve told Jennifer. So if chummy tries his tricks tonight, we’ll nail him.’

  ‘Does that mean sitting up until midnight to see if we get a call for help?’

  ‘I’m afraid so, but it’s very cosy in front of this fire.’ He reached out and put his arm around her shoulder.

  ‘Mmm,’ she murmured. ‘Let’s hope there are no calls tonight.’

  But there were.

  Just after a quarter to midnight, Nick’s telephone began to shrill.

  ‘I think this will be for me,’ he said.

  page 339

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  It was Claude Jeremiah Greengrass on the telephone.

  ‘Get yourself up to Jane Thompson’s quickly,’ said the familiar voice. ‘Somebody’s smashed her greenhouse to smithereens.’

  ‘Claude, when?’

  ‘Now, just now. Get yourself up there, Mr Rowan!’

  And the telephone went dead. Nick told Kate what had happened and said he would go in the car; Kate offered to accompany him because Jane might need help. When they arrived, they found Claude and Jane, with Alfred lurking in the background, examining the shattered remains of her greenhouse. The light from their torches told a sorry story. Glass lay everywhere; every pane had been broken, while inside, many of her trays and pots of plants had been overturned and kicked all over the floor. It was a cruel scene of utter devastation.

  ‘Took your time getting here, didn’t you?’ Claude shouted angrily as Nick approached.

  ‘Calm down, Claude.’ Nick spoke quietly. ‘Jane, what happened? Did you see anybody? Hear anything?’

  ‘I was reading, Mr Rowan, I’d locked up and was having a quiet read in bed when I heard a crashing outside, then there was the glass breaking, lots of it. I knew it must be the greenhouse, it just went on and on …’

  ‘You should have telephoned me straight away!’ Nick said.

  ‘I tried, but the telephone’s been cut off.’ She was weeping silently now. ‘I couldn’t get help, I had to let them do it. I was too frightened to go out and stop them.’

  ‘Kate, see to her,’ said Nick as he went around the side of the house to examine the incoming telephone wires. Sure enough, the entry cable had been severed with one clean cut. Claude had come up behind him and was staring at the cable.

  ‘There’s no prizes for guessing who did that, Mr Rowan,’ said Greengrass. ‘What were you doing here?’

  ‘Minding my own business,’ said Claude. ‘Doing a bit of walking by the light of the stars in them woods over there, contemplating on how peaceful it is in Aidensfield. Then I heard the crashing of all that glass and I guessed what was going on. I ran over here as fast as I could - fleet of foot I am when I get steam up - and found this. Her phone wasn’t working, so I ran down the lane, I used Owen Brown’s phone at Heather Cottage.’