Glory in the Flower

Glory in the Flower

Doug Hilditch

Smashwords Edition 2014

Copyright © 2014 Doug Hilditch

The author asserts his moral rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

All Rights reserved.

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By the same author

Morgan’s Inheritance

Splendour in the Grass

For Tess

That though the radiance

Which was once so bright

Be now for ever taken from my sight,

Though nothing can bring back the hour

Of splendour in the grass,

Of glory in the flower,

We will grieve not, rather find

Strength in what remains behind.

William Wordsworth

1

Monday morning and the site was a hive of activity as the men took advantage of the first real sunny days of the summer. Typical of the British weather, it had rained every day for the last two months but now the re-energised building crew basked in the warm sunshine as they went about their tasks. Colin Mason stood at the window of his office and regarded the construction site over which he presided. There was much to do if they wanted to pull the build back to their original schedule. A lot was riding on this contract and if they did a good job, came in on budget and on time, then there was the certainty of more contracts like this one. He walked across the room and was pouring himself another cup of coffee from the vending machine when there was a sharp knock on the door of the Portakabin and Derek Evans, the site foreman, entered. Colin turned and could see from the look on Derek’s face that all was not right.

What’s up, Derek? he asked.

Sorry, Colin, Evans said breathlessly. We have a problem, a big problem. I think you’d better come and take a look.

The first police car arrived less than fifteen minutes after Colin Mason’s call was made, the two Officers from the Serious Crimes Unit arriving shortly afterwards. Two police cruisers were parked across the entrance, stopping any vehicles from entering or leaving the site. As the two detectives changed into their Wellington boots, they looked up to see a very tall, heavily-built man wearing a fluorescent jacket and a yellow hard hat approaching them.

Good Morning, Gentlemen. I’m Colin Mason, Construction Manager, the man said holding out his hand.

The taller of the two policemen shook the proffered hand.

Detective Sergeant Danny Warren, he said, and this is Detective Constable Martin Jackson.

Please, if you’d like to follow me, Gentlemen.

The two officers followed Mason across the site to where a group of workers and uniformed officers were gathered in front of a large mechanical contraption with caterpillar tracks.

Who discovered the body? asked DS Warren.

That would be me, Sir, a shorter, middle-aged man stepped forward.

And you are . . ?

Derek Evans, Sir, he replied. I’m the site foreman.

Mason took a large torch from one of the other workers.

I’ll show you, he said and started to walk towards the machine. The detectives and Evans followed.

The soil here consists of about fifteen metres of sandy strata and then clay, explained Mason. We use a dry-boring method on this site for laying piles.

A what? asked DC Jackson.

Dry boring. We bore a hole about 1200 millimetres in diameter about thirty metres down into the clay strata. A temporary casing is lowered as we drill to stop the sides of the bore collapsing. A steel cage is then lowered into the borehole and the whole thing is filled up with concrete. We drilled the bore the day before yesterday and inserted the casing but that’s as far as we got.

What are you building? asked Jackson.

Four retail units with two storeys of apartments above.

Thirty metres doesn’t sound very deep for that lot, observed DS Warren.

We use what’s called friction piles, explained Mason. The pile goes down into the clay and the cohesive soil grips the side of the piles. It’s the same principle as when you step into deep mud and you can’t get your foot back out because the mud grips your boot.

Danny nodded and looked up at the steel cage dangling from the jib of the drilling machine in front of them. The four men stopped at the edge of a wide hole.

Like I said, we were going to concrete the piles in today and the men were just about to lower the cage into the bore when Derek spotted this, Mason stood at the lip of a large bore hole and shone the torch down into it. Danny Warren and Martin Jackson peered over the edge into the hole.

Jesus Christ! exclaimed Martin.

The light of the torch fell onto the body of a woman suspended about twenty feet down from the top of the bore hole. She was wedged between the sides of the casing, her knees up on one side and her shoulders against the other. One hand was in her lap but the other dangled down by her side. Her head was bent forward obscuring her face and her hair was matted with blood.

Any idea how we can get her out? asked Danny.

Very carefully, I’d say, said Mason. One slip and she’ll drop the full thirty metres.

Could she have fallen down the hole? asked Martin.

Unlikely, we normally fill them with reinforced concrete as soon as we can, but this bore was drilled late Saturday afternoon. Evans nodded towards a pile of plastic barriers lying off to one side. We set the barriers up around the bores after we had completed them as a precaution to stop anybody inadvertently falling down one. The barriers around this bore were still up this morning before we started work. I shifted them myself.

The three men looked up at the sound of vehicles pulling into the site.

I’m afraid you are going to have to stop all work for the time being, said Danny. I’m sorry but this site is now officially a crime scene.

But we are on a very tight schedule, protested Mason.

I’m sorry but no further work can be done until we have finished our enquiries.

DS Warren walked down to greet the two large white vans, from the Scene of Crimes Department, as they drove half-way into the site and stopped. The passenger door of the first vehicle flew open and a familiar figure climbed out.

Hi Andy, Danny called. Good to see you again.

Always on the happiest of occasions too, grinned Andy Shaw sarcastically.

Yeah, we can’t go on meeting like this, laughed Danny, my wife’s started to get suspicious.

What have you got for me this time? asked Andy, climbing into his bio suit and slipping on his Wellington boots.

A young woman, stuck halfway down a bore hole. Looks as if she’s sustained a nasty head injury too.

Nothing too difficult then? Shaw shook his head and, after grabbing his Evidence Collection Case, slid the side door of the van closed again.

He looked around at the rest of his team gathered together behind him, all suitably attired.

Okay, boys and girls, he sighed. Let’s go do our thing.

Danny Warren led the forensics team over to the crime scene. After asking everyone except Mason and Evans if they would assemble over by the Portakabins where Martin and a couple of uniformed officers would take their statements, Danny showed Andy’s team the body.

Has anybody tried to get her out yet? asked Shaw.

No, Sir, answered Evans. We were afraid to try in case she slipped further down. Besides, we thought it was best to wait for you guys.

Very wise, said Andy. Now, if you gentlemen wouldn’t mind standing over there please?

Danny and the two workmen walked back to the other side of another steel cage lying on its side and watched as the Scene of Crimes Officers went about their work, taking numerous photographs of the body and searching the area surrounding the bore hole for any evidence. Danny spent the time taking statements from the two men and asking information about the site.

After an hour, Andy Shaw walked over to join the men.

Well, we can’t put it off any longer, he said. We have to get her out. Anybody got any bright ideas?

I’ve been thinking about that, said Evans. If we could lower someone down the bore to put some kind of sling around her maybe we can pull her out.

But it’s not a very wide hole, said Danny, that’s why she got stuck. Whoever went down would have to be pretty slim.

What about Ricky? suggested Mason.

But he’s only a kid, said Evans.

He’s seventeen, replied Mason, and besides, there’s nothing to him. He’d be like a rat up a drainpipe.

Who’s Ricky? asked Danny.

Ricky Fuller, replied Evans, he’s our apprentice, well sort of.

General dog’s body, explained Mason. Here for a bit of work experience during the summer holidays.

Yeah, but not this kind of experience, Evans protested.

Can you think of anybody else who could fit down there? asked Mason. Unless you want to volunteer, of course?

Couldn’t we try to hook her out? asked one of the Scene of Crimes technicians.

Too risky, said Shaw, one false move and we’ve lost her down the shaft. No, I think this chap’s idea is best. Lower someone down.

Where is this Ricky? asked Danny.

Probably in the Cook House, said Mason, spends most of his time in there from what I can see. Go and get him Derek.

The Cook House was another Portakabin situated a few yards away from Mason’s site office. It housed a small kitchen area where the men could make tea or sit to eat their lunches. Derek headed off in the direction of the buildings and returned a few minutes later with a short, skinny teenager. The two of them carried an assortment of ropes, harnesses and strapping.

When Derek Evans explained to the boy what he wanted him to do, the young man looked horrified. Andy Shaw stepped forward and took the boys arm.

Hi, Ricky, my name is Andy Shaw. I am the Chief Forensic Investigator. We really don’t want to ask you to do this but you are the only one who is small enough to be lowered down the hole to help us get this young lady out. Unless we can get her out, we have no way of knowing how she died or who was responsible.

But . . . she’s dead, the young man was almost on the point of tears, I . . . I’ve never seen a dead body.

Andy understood the young man’s concern and nodded.

Come with me, he said and, taking the boy’s arm, led him to the rim of the bore hole. I just want to make sure there are no nasty surprises.

Andy shone the torch down the hole and the boy peered in. His eyes widened as he looked at the twisted body of the girl wedged inside the shaft. Suddenly, his breathing quickened and Andy turned him away from the edge. Only just in time, as the boy bent over and threw his breakfast up in the mud. Andy stood silently next to the lad for a couple of minutes. Eventually the boy straightened up, he looked pale and obviously shaken.

Listen, you don’t have to do this, said Andy calmly, but it would be a great help. The trouble is we can’t think of any other way to get her out. If you don’t think you’re up to it . . .

The young man nodded, spat and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

I . . . I can do it, he croaked.

Are you sure?

Yeah, but, Ricky swallowed hard, can I just have another look?

Andy put a fatherly arm around the lad’s shoulders and turned him around again. Ricky steeled himself and looked once more down the hole to where Andy’s torch was shining. After a full minute, he straightened up and turned back to Derek Evans.

What do you want me to do? he asked.

Good lad, Evans smiled. Just wait here a minute.

Climbing up into the cab of the drilling rig, Evans made sure the gears were in neutral before turning the key. With an ear-splitting growl the huge beast fired into life, sending a large black cloud of diesel exhaust drifting slowly across the building site.

He turned the jib to one side and lowered the steel cage, laying it down alongside the other one. Mason unshackled the cage from the jib’s cable and, after moving the jib back to the front, Evans climbed back down and returned to the boy.

Derek Evans and Colin Mason helped the young man into a safety harness normally used for working at high level. They secured this to a rope and a webbing strap and attached these to the shackle on the end of the cable. Next Evans attached another webbing strap to the shackle and handed the other end to Ricky.

This strap is for you to put around the girl so we can pull her out, he explained. We’ll feed it down to you and once you’ve put that end around her, you lift this clasp up here and feed the end back through. When it’s through, you can press on here and pull the end of the strap. That will tighten it, okay?

The others watched as he demonstrated the strap fastening to Ricky. The lad tried it a couple of times to make sure he understood how it worked. Next Evans led Ricky back over to the borehole and made him sit down alongside it. Mason handed Evans a hard hat with a built in head lamp. Evans clipped a small battery pack to the boy’s belt, turned on the lamp and handed the hat to the lad.

Make sure you do that up nice and tight; we don’t want it to fall off, do we?

Pulling the rope and strap down between Ricky’s feet, Evans then wrapped a shorter strap around the boy’s ankles.

Don’t worry, you’re not going to fall, Evans smiled. Ready?

Ricky took a deep breath, closed his eyes and nodded.

Good lad, Evans tapped the top of the boy’s hard hat and walked back to the pile drilling machine.

He put the machine into gear and slowly the enormous caterpillar tracks churned up the mud as Evans manoeuvred the vehicle forward until the top of the jib was over the bore hole. He stopped the vehicle and hung out of the cab.

Can you Chaps steady Ricky as I lift him?

Danny and Mason stepped forward as Evans sat back in the driving seat and started to winch in the rope. Slowly the boy was lifted feet first off the ground, Danny and Mason steadying him as he dangled upside down from the end of the jib cable. The two men swung the lad over to the edge of the borehole and with the strapping firmly in his grasp Ricky was lowered head first into the hole.

The further down he was lowered, the faster Ricky’s heart beat. The light from his headlamp glared off the sides of the steel casing and illuminated the grisly scene below him as he descended. Bracing himself on the sides of the casing, his stomach churned again and he swallowed hard. He knew he had nothing else to bring up but that didn’t stop the feeling of nausea. He could clearly see the blood in the woman’s hair and across her shoulder. The crotch of her jeans and down the inside of her thighs was soaking wet. He remembered someone once telling him that your bladder and bowels empty by themselves after you die but he had never believed them. Until now. When he was almost within reaching distance of the girl he was aware of an awful stench drifting upwards. He swallowed several more times to stop himself from gagging.

Stop! he shouted.

Stop! he heard a voice above him.

There was a sudden jerk on the rope and his descent ceased. He reached out ahead of him but was not quite close enough.

About another foot, he called.

The message was relayed and he dropped suddenly another eighteen inches.

A bit more, he yelled, the sound echoing down the shaft.

The bindings jerked and Ricky dropped another foot and braced himself either side on the casing to stop from spinning.

Stop!

He was now low enough to reach down beneath the girl’s thighs. The smell of death and stale urine was stronger than ever, as his face was now only inches away from the girl’s torso.

Ricky tugged on the strapping and another couple of metres were fed down to him. The girl’s body was wedged as if she was lying on her back with her legs folded up. He took a moment to think of the best way to attach the strapping to her. At last, being careful not to touch the girl, Ricky fed the strap underneath her legs with one hand then reached over carefully and grabbed it from the other side with his other hand. Pulling the end of the strap up, he had an idea. He fed the end of the webbing under the belt of the girl’s jeans before feeding it through the fastener. Having pushed the end through, he was just about to tighten the fastener when he turned his head and looked into the girl’s face. With a shriek, he recoiled. In the confined space of the borehole, Ricky’s violent movement inadvertently pulled on the strap causing the girl’s left leg to slide downwards. The sudden movement startled him even more and for a split second he thought she may still be alive. The weight of her leg descending was enough to roll her body slightly and her right leg also shifted. Suddenly, girl’s body dropped like a stone towards the bottom of the hole. The momentum of her descent threw her right arm upwards. Instinctively, Ricky’s hand shot out and grabbed the girl’s wrist, breaking the fall.

GET ME UP! he screamed. GET ME UP, QUICK!

Within seconds he was moving upwards again. The webbing strap was dangling down below the girl and he knew that if he lost grip, the fastener would never hold the sudden weight and the girl would plummet straight to the bottom of the shaft. He now knew exactly what the term ‘dead weight’ meant. Hanging on to her with both hands as tightly as he could, by the time he saw daylight his arms were nearly pulling out of their sockets. He gasped for air as he emerged from the hole and several pairs of hands grabbed him and the girl. At last, he could release his