Devils way, p.13
Devil's Way, page 13
‘What bloke?’ asked Kate.
‘Whatshisname, Declan,’ said Ade.
‘Who you found in the ditch in his car on the way to the Devil’s Way.’
‘Yes. The car was on its side. I think there was water in the ditch back then. The car was lying on the right side, which indicated he’d been driving away from the Devil’s Tor when he came off the road. At first, we thought he was dead. He was sitting in the driver’s seat, kind of lying against the inside of the door. It was still quite dark. I jumped down into the ditch with a torch to check if he was okay.’
‘What time was this?’ asked Tristan.
‘I think it was around quarter past four in the morning. Yes, we got the call at four, and it took us ten or fifteen minutes to get here.’
‘And Declan was fine?’ asked Tristan.
‘Yes. Pissed as a fart, but unhurt. He seemed quite annoyed at me for waking him up.’
Kate looked back up the road towards the Devil’s Way. The Tor wasn’t visible from this point.
‘What was he doing here at this time? Jean told us Declan left around 10pm when she got rid of him,’ she said.
‘Declan told us he’d been on his way to The Feathers, a local pub, for a lock-in. At this point, we didn’t know he was involved with Charlie Julings’s family, and another squad car arrived, so we left them with him.’
Kate looked at the ditch and then turned back, shielding her eyes from the hot sun. The Devil’s Tor was a couple of miles away, and the track was straight as it banked down towards it.
‘What was he doing after he left Jean? Unless he came off the road and spent a few hours here asleep,’ said Kate.
‘Jean said he was completely blotto. He’d drunk almost a whole bottle of whisky,’ said Tristan, flapping his T-shirt in the heat. Kate pondered for a moment, and they returned to the car and carried on. The heat was rippling off the track when they saw the Devil’s Tor rising out of the moors. Ade peered out of the window.
‘I’d forgotten how tall it is. It must be six or seven storeys high,’ he said, squinting up at the massive rock formation. Kate parked the car at the base of the Tor, under a rocky outcrop with shade.
‘What exactly did you see when you first arrived?’ asked Kate.
Ade used the fan as a visor to cover his eyes. He looked out at the field with the vast ancient tree. They could just see a glimpse of the river twinkling in the grass to the left-hand corner of the Tor.
‘There was a blue car parked here, just about where we’re standing, and a tent was pitched next to it… And next to that, Jean and Becky were fighting in the grass. My colleague pulled them apart, and the other bloke helped. Charlie’s father—’
‘Joel,’ said Kate.
‘Yes. Joel. He didn’t seem surprised that they were fighting. Like it happened often.’
‘What else?’
‘There was the tree… I couldn’t see anything else.’
‘Was it dark?’ asked Tristan. ‘The other tent was pitched under the tree.’
‘We couldn’t see the other tent.’
Kate looked at Tristan.
‘Everyone has said that both tents were pitched,’ said Kate. Tristan took out his phone and found the photo from that day, of the search teams and Ade surrounding Becky Julings car at the bottom of the Tor.
‘Look at me. Face like a beef tomato and no style,’ said Ade, squinting at the screen. ‘Look, can you see the grass growing in the middle between the tree and the Tor? You can’t tell in this picture, but it was very tall. I’d say it was waist-high on me. And because of that, Jean and Charlie’s tent wasn’t visible under the tree when you stood here.’
They walked over to the tree, across what was now a short mossy scrub. Kate, Tristan and Ade stopped under the shade of the immense trunk, and it suddenly felt ten degrees cooler. There was a very light breeze, but the tree creaked loudly as the air moved between the massive branches.
‘Was there long grass under the tree?’ asked Kate.
‘I don’t think so,’ said Ade, breathless and leaning on the trunk with one hand, fanning himself with the other.
‘Can you remember how far the long grass extended across this patch of land?’
‘It was wide. I think it went down to the river on the other side of the Tor.’
Kate and Tristan crouched down on the ground, facing the Tor.
‘We’ve been questioning how Charlie could have wandered off at night when the two tents were pitched so close together, but we didn’t know about the grass,’ said Kate.
‘Imagine if you’re only knee-height. You come out of this tent and stumble into long, adult waist-high grass. And it’s dark, too. It would be easy to get lost and wander off in the wrong direction,’ said Tristan.
‘He was only three, so his mum, dad, and gran probably still picked him up and carried him around. During the day, he was up on an adult’s hip and saw that the two tents were close together,’ said Kate.
‘So he comes out of the tent, scared that he’s alone. He hears Jean’s voice with Declan, and he heads towards her, but she’s on the other side of the Tor, and he gets lost in the long grass, and that’s how he ends up wandering alongside the river,’ said Tristan.
‘Did the police have this theory about Charlie getting lost in the long grass?’ asked Kate, looking at Ade leaning with his back against the tree.
‘No. I don’t think so.’
‘Why not?’
He thought about it and pulled the folder with his notes out of the tote bag. He spent a moment flicking through.
‘It all happened so fast. We arrived on the scene and organised a search. A big search party was arranged that morning. I think the National Park authority got a hundred people to come here who helped with the search. And that was in the afternoon. You have to remember that this was what we focused on. No one was talking about abduction or Charlie being dead. We all thought he’d wandered off in the night and we’d find him again. On top of the search team who came here, there were quite a lot of press and fifteen or twenty police officers, police cars, four or five big vans. I even remember a couple of coaches from the National Park. All of these people and this movement between the two tents quickly flattened out all the grass.’ Ade fanned himself for a moment, looking between Kate and Tristan. ‘Well, bugger me. I’d never thought of that. By the time Charlie Julings was being talked about as an abduction, the grass was all flat.’
27
They walked from under the tree down to the river at the side of the Tor. The dry heat felt heavy as the sun rose higher in the sky.
Their discovery, that the grass had been longer between the tents, lent credence to the theory that Charlie had wandered off and lost his bearings. The only problem was, if he had fallen in the river, how would they prove it?
As they passed the Tor, they carried on through the cluster of boulders at the base. The cool breeze coming off the river and the sound of the running water were soothing as they stood on the edge of the mossy banks.
‘I’m sorry, chaps, I absolutely have to cool off,’ Ade said, pulling off his trainers and socks. ‘Grab my arm,’ he added to Tristan. ‘I don’t want to go arse over tit.’ He held out his hand, and Tristan helped him down the bank and onto a half-submerged flat rock twinkling in the sun as the water lapped over it.
Tristan slipped off his flip-flops and waded in after Ade. Kate wasn’t going to follow, but she was sweating, and their reactions to the cold water convinced her to change her mind. She slipped off her sandals and waded in after them.
‘Does the water level look even lower than when we were here the other day?’ she asked Tristan.
‘It does.’
‘I remember this as a raging muddy torrent when we came down that day,’ said Ade. He stepped off the rock into the water, lifting his kaftan slightly. The water only came up to his calves, and he was tall.
‘Lewis told me the same thing,’ said Tristan. ‘He said that earlier in the evening, there had been a storm up in the mountains, where there’s a tributary to the Devil’s Way river.’
Ade raised an eyebrow at the mention of Lewis.
‘I always remember him as being a poor excuse for a police officer, quite sloppy and arrogant,’ he said.
‘He gave me this map,’ said Tristan, holding it up. ‘And he was on the case longer than you.’
‘But I was amongst the first responders,’ said Ade haughtily.
‘But he stayed on the case longer than you did. You said you were only on it for the first day.’
‘And lest we forget,’ said Ade grandly, pointing his fan at Tristan, ‘Lewis is a bent copper, and not in a good way. Selling drugs his colleagues risked their lives to seize! He’s no better than Declan.’
Tristan opened his mouth to say something else.
‘And we’re grateful for your help,’ said Kate, shooting Tristan a look to back off. She wanted Ade on their side, and she could see that he was temperamental.
‘Sorry. You’re right. And you have all your pocketbook notes, which Lewis wasn’t able to give us,’ said Tristan.
‘Thank you,’ said Ade, holding out his arm. ‘Now help me out. I can feel myself pruning.’
Tristan helped Ade and then Kate out of the water, and they all carried on along the river bank towards the gorge. They stopped when they reached the point where the river turned sharply to the left. Kate shielded her eyes with her hand and looked across the moors. It was a hazy day, but she could just make out the Danvers Farm, Lewis mentioned, in the distance. Ade stopped and put up his hand.
‘Hang on a minute. Where’s the bridge? There was a bridge here,’ he said, having to shout above the sound of the roaring water in the gorge. ‘A small wooden footbridge.’
‘What? No one mentioned a bridge,’ said Kate.
‘Well, there was one. It was rather rickety and old, where these stones are.’ He indicated a line of stepping stones across the water to the other side. ‘When we arrived the water was so high, right up underneath the bridge and washing over it.’
‘Did Lewis mention a bridge?’ said Kate.
‘No,’ said Tristan.
‘But he drew you a map?’
‘He didn’t mention a bridge.’
‘Well, I’m not a thieving drunk ex-copper, and I remember there was a bridge here,’ said Ade.
Carefully, they crossed the river, stepping easily over the row of stepping stones to the other side. The last time they visited, Kate hadn’t noticed there was a small stream which flowed off from the main river to the right and down a grassy bank. They followed it for a hundred metres or so. As the roaring of the gorge faded behind them, the bushes grew thicker. Flies buzzed in the heat. Tristan had to part the dense undergrowth so they could keep following the water, and the ground was muddy. On the other side of a row of bushes, they emerged into a small clearing where the stream fed into a sizeable stagnant pond. It smelt of standing water, and flies and mosquitoes buzzed above it.
‘It’s so muddy—’ Ade started to say, and his voice trailed off.
On the opposite side of the pond was a vast, ancient tree. It sat squat and low on the muddy banks and seemed to spread across the edge of the pool. Scores of its thin branches were growing down into the water. Along the length of every branch, of which there were many, pieces of coloured material had been tied. Some were faded and ragged, and others looked newer. There were even rags tied on the very tips of branches and half-submerged in the stagnant water, the fabric wet and edged with algae. The tree had barely any leaves and looked like it was sinking under the weight of it all.
‘Oh my word,’ said Ade. ‘What is this?’
‘It’s called the Pixie Tree,’ said Tristan. ‘It was on Lewis’s map.’ Kate glanced at him and saw he shared her feeling of unease. There was something imposing about the tree.
Despite the heat and the bright sun, there was a feeling of sickness in the air beside this fetid pool. It was cloying in the heat, and it frightened Kate.
28
They moved closer to the Pixie Tree, skirting around the soft mud at the pond’s edge. The bushes and undergrowth were tall all around the water, and Kate peered down to try and see how deep the water was, but the light didn’t penetrate the gloom and algae.
Tristan had his mobile phone and was reading from an article he’d found.
‘These rags tied on are called “clouties”. They’re left as gestures of acknowledgement and respect for the spirits of the land and sometimes as prayers requesting general blessings or specific aid from those same spirits,’ he said.
Kate looked at the hundreds and hundreds which hung on every branch. Up close, the tree was overwhelming and must have been thirty to forty metres wide.
‘The piece of rag is first dipped in the water, pressed against the troubled part of the body, if the sufferer is there at the time, and tied to the tree. The cloth then absorbs the illness and carries it harmlessly back to the elements as it slowly weathers over time and disintegrates.’
When he heard this, Ade took a step back from the water’s edge, and Kate felt the same squeamishness. Tristan went on, ‘The tying of these “clouties” is a quiet, private act of communion between human beings and the local spirits of the land… I’ve seen other trees around Dartmoor like this, and they’re all covered in these pieces of material.’ He looked up at them.
‘The bridge,’ said Kate. ‘Charlie could have walked across. Ade, did the bridge have rails?’
‘Yes. It wasn’t just a plank of wood. It was enclosed with a high rail, but the water was so high, it was running over the bridge when we arrived.’
‘We need to find out if this pool was dredged or searched by the police.’
‘Would scent dogs have been able to detect Charlie, if water was running over the bridge? Wouldn’t it have washed the scent away?’ asked Tristan.
‘I don’t know,’ said Ade. Kate looked back at the dank pool where the mosquitoes were hovering. The crickets seemed louder here. They jumped when they heard a cracking in the undergrowth. A wild-looking elderly lady, hunched almost double, came pushing through a gap in the undergrowth. She was wearing a ripped and filthy shell suit. Her bare feet were caked with mud, and her face was burnt by the sun. She was rail-thin, with a gnarled hand leaning atop a stick.
She grimaced at them, and Kate saw she had a few blackened teeth remaining.
‘Hello,’ said Tristan. She gave him the once-over but ignored them all and moved through the muddy banks to the tree. She put her bag down and staked her stick into the mud so it stood on its own. When she turned to the tree, Kate saw the old lady was wearing a red Spider-Man-branded children’s backpack. It stood out for its newness against the grimy back of her ripped clothes. She shrugged it off and, wheezing, unzipped it and took out a piece of material. She carefully dipped it into a bloom of green algae at the edge of the pool, then slowly removed her shell suit jacket. Underneath, the woman wore a grimy, black, sleeveless vest, and Kate was shocked to see her twisted, hunched-over spine. Her bones bulged up through her skin in odd shapes. She bent over to retrieve the piece of rag from the water, and pressed it against her back.
Kate suddenly felt like they were intruding on a private moment.
‘Come on, we should go,’ she said, tilting her head away from the tree. Ade and Tristan nodded, and they started walking back towards the stream. As the undergrowth cracked around them, the elderly lady glanced over her hunched back with a malevolent stare and then moved to the tree to tie the rag on a piece of branch.
They walked back up the trickle of the stream, and then as they emerged from the bushes and trees by the gorge, the roar of the water and a slight breeze brought them back to reality. They crossed the stepping stones and stood on the opposite bank of the river.
‘I didn’t like it there. It felt like we were under some kind of spell,’ said Tristan, shivering. ‘And I don’t believe in magic.’
Ade nodded. He stepped out of his shoes again and into the river’s cool water.
‘Where did that lady come from?’ asked Kate, looking around at the thick undergrowth. Tristan pulled the ordnance survey map out of his pocket and unfolded a couple of the flaps.
‘There’s a thick band of trees and undergrowth which go back, according to this scale, for five hundred metres or so, and then it’s open moorland.’
Kate moved around to look at the map.
‘I wonder where she came from. Does she live nearby, does she have a car?’ she asked. ‘Come on, let’s go back and talk to her. She might live locally. She didn’t look like she had a car.’
‘I’ll stay here,’ said Ade, waving them away with his fan. Kate and Tristan retraced their steps, but when they reached the pond again, the elderly lady was nowhere to be seen. Kate went to the spot in the undergrowth from where she’d emerged and pulled back the thin branch of a tree. She stepped into the dim gloom of a densely packed forest of trees and weeds. The ground was very soft underfoot, and Kate saw footprints in the mud. She pushed further into the undergrowth. It was only possible to see a few feet in front of her, and at points, she couldn’t move through the knots of weeds, tree branches and twisted roots.
‘Kate, don’t go too deep. You might get lost,’ she heard Tristan saying behind her. She carried on for a few more minutes, flailing about. The sweat trickled down her back, and the flies and midges bit her exposed skin.
Where had the old lady gone? The still undergrowth was silent. Kate stopped and shuddered, looking down at her sandals, caked with mud. She looked back and saw Tristan’s feet had sunk into the earth, and he was struggling to retrieve one of his flip-flops.
‘We can look this up online,’ said Tristan. ‘We’re going to vanish in the mud if we’re not careful.’
Kate looked back into the shady depths of the undergrowth.
‘Let’s go back and find Ade,’ she said.
