A Grave in the Cotswolds Read Online Free PDF Page B

were unfortunate, rendering me more defensive than was useful. A strong wind – even stronger than the day before – was blowing, ruffling my hair and providing an irritating background noise as it swirled through the surrounding trees. I spotted one magpie, riding a wind-tossed branch with apparent enjoyment.
    ‘So!’ the man from the council began with an air of infuriating triumph. ‘This is Mr Drew Slocombe, is it?’ The invisible third person to whom he appealed said nothing.
    ‘Good morning,’ I said, refraining from offering him a hand to shake. ‘I gather there’s a problem.’
    He was a weedy man, with a round head on which the hair had receded to an oily semicircle. His eyes were small and round, his chin unobtrusive. But his mouth was fleshy, his lips damp. ‘This is a travesty ,’ he shrilled at me. ‘A travesty!’ He waved an outraged arm towards the grave. I had to admit it was a good word.
    ‘I don’t really think so,’ I said mildly. ‘It was what she wanted.’
    ‘Without any consultation, without due care to ascertain ownership of the land,’ he accused. ‘You simply took her word for it, and went on your own selfish way, out to make money from a foolish woman’s whim.’
    He had combined the most pertinent point with a fatuous and offensive imputation. It meant I had to take him seriously and not seriously at the same time, which very much threw me off balance.
    ‘I don’t think Mrs Simmonds was foolish,’ I said. ‘She had a fine regard for the environment, and her own clear values. She faced up to her own mortality, which I found admirable.’ It was a clunky little speech, and I was not proud of it. There had been a time when I addressed groups about natural burials, with some impressive rhetoric.
    ‘The land was not hers,’ he shouted, bringing his face close to mine. ‘You have committed a definite trespass on council property.’ We were standing a few feet inside the field, thirty or forty yards from the grave itself. I had the impression that Mr Maynard was reluctant to go any closer, that the mere fact of it made him nervous. He wasn’t unique in that, of course, but it did nothing to increase my scant respect for him.
    ‘So I am now given to understand, although I imagine it was a genuine mistake. I presume she must have rented it? In fact, I’m sure she thought she had the right to use it as she did. I gather she inherited the house years ago, but only moved here fairly recently. She must have been told the land went with it in some way, even though it’s so far from the house.’ Why couldn’t I just say it straight? She must have thought it was OK to be buried here. Instead I went on the attack. ‘Are you perfectly sure it belongs to the council? It seems very odd to me. After all, if Mrs Simmonds had been paying rent on it, she would know it wasn’t hers to do as she liked with.’
    ‘Yes, of course I am. I know all the details, thank you very much.’
    ‘Then it must have been a misunderstanding. Age-old usage, missing paperwork – that sort of thing.’
    ‘That is not the point. The point is, the land is now valueless. Useless.’
    My heart gave a lurch out of all proportion to his actual words. I had managed to convince myself during the drive up to the Cotswolds that whatever happened, I would not be personally liable, but now that the conversation was turning to economics, things began to feel scary. ‘Well…’ I began, not knowing what I meant to say, ‘well, I don’t think there was any need to involve the police. There are various things we can do, if we think about it calmly. You could fence off the grave, and put the rest of the field to whatever use you want.’ Besides, I wanted to add, it is a very little field. Barely two acres, I would guess.
    ‘But it’s sick ,’ he blurted. ‘Insensitive and disgusting and sacrilegious. A travesty,’ he repeated, for good measure.
    ‘No,’ I argued, finally on firmer ground. ‘It is none of