The ambulance arrived. Irene had to stand out of the way while they saw to him. Not much they could do while he was under the rocks. Make him comfortable. Give him oxygen. Pain relief. They managed to get a brace on his neck. Everything else had to wait.
Jesus, though. It didn’t look good.
Irene got back in there beside him. Said nothing. Held his hand again.
Blood was coming out of his mouth by then. She wiped it away with a handkerchief, and tucked it back into her sleeve.
*
It had been the beginning of the end of the quarry. Tony stopped working there not long afterwards, and although no one said there was a connection it was plain there must have been. No one quite understood how he came through the investigation in one piece. He must have been given a pay-off when he left the company, because soon after that he went and took over at the Gladstone. There’d been no pub open for a few years by that point, so everyone was glad of it. Didn’t ask him any questions about the money.
The quarry company closed the whole site not long after Tony left. Not because of what had happened to Ted; those companies had deaths and injuries factored into their business plans, surely. But as it turned out, that unstable face had been the last one they’d planned to work in any case.
The regeneration crowd moved in. Stripped all the machinery they could use, broke down the rest, flooded the lot. Planted a few hundred trees, put up the nesting boxes, all that type of thing. Fenced the whole place off and put up warning signs.
Ian used to go up there with Ted from time to time and watch the progress of it all. Was like watching history in reverse, slowly.
It had taken four months for Ted to get home from the hospital, and he never lost the limp. But he made it. Broke his pelvis, and most of his ribs, and there was plenty of internal bleeding. But there was no head injury and they reckoned that was what made the difference. Iron Man, they called him after that. Made him seem invincible.
Irene was known not to be impressed when he went back to work at another quarry. But she never said a word. She couldn’t. Ted wouldn’t have stood for it.
He turned out not to be invincible in the end. Only lasted another six years.
All the dust in the man’s lungs, they reckoned. Although Ian didn’t imagine that smoking forty a day would have helped much either.
*
Ian still walked past the old quarry site, now. He liked to make sure the fence was in good order. It was a peaceful place to be. Not like it had been back then, with the dust and the noise and the bare blasted rock. Now it was clear blue water, trees, birdsong. The evening air beginning to cool after a long hot August day. Dragonflies zipping about above the water, no doubt. Swallows skimming low across the surface. It seemed likely there’d be some good fishing down there, if you could get to the banks. Grayling, maybe even trout. But there was no chance he’d be trying anything like that. Trouble with all the regeneration that went on at these places, it tended to disguise the dangers. You make something look pretty enough, some idiot would forget why the fence was even there.
And this one evening, again, some kid was swimming down there. Ian had seen her and stopped by the fence to call her out. He’d seen a group of them here earlier and now this one looked to have come back again on her own. Taking her chances once wasn’t good enough for her. These kids had no idea. They thought it was some kind of public lido. They had no idea there were loose rock faces down there, bits of old machinery and who knew
what else under the water. And brutal cold sometimes. It was no place for swimming. He waited until she’d climbed all the way out so he could give her a piece of his mind. The evening was starting to soften, and the air in the shade of the trees was cool and damp. The water had already stilled.
The girl didn’t say anything to him when she got back up to the fence, but just pushed past him and marched off down the hill through the trees. Ian couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed or just rude. Didn’t much matter either way. Kids were either going to learn, or they weren’t.
12: Irene
Irene didn’t tend to have visitors. Not since Ted had died.
She was sociable enough, but she liked to see people away from the house. She was so busy with her cleaning jobs that she didn’t always keep on top of things at home. She was by no means slovenly but she had very high standards. It was hard to keep up. And Andrew was getting older now. He could be disruptive, around the house.
But now here she was with the third visitor in a week, breezing into the kitchen before Irene had quite had the chance to say good morning.
The young lady was from social services. She told Irene the police had been in touch, and she was here to do a needs assessment, which Irene was entitled to, it would only take five or ten minutes, here was her identity card and her referral letter, thank you, could she come in, it really wouldn’t take long, thank you.
She was one of those as didn’t talk in sentences but just kept going, one thing after another. It made Irene feel out of breath just to listen to her. Irene had a reputation for talking herself, she knew that, but at least she gave other people a word in edgeways. This young lady had got her feet under the kitchen table before Irene had even gathered her name. She had to clear away the breakfast things and wipe the table clean before the young lady could set down her briefcase.
The whole thing was rather confusing. She’d been expecting a telephone call from either Victim Support or Crime Prevention. She hadn’t been clear which, but that was what she thought the policeman had said. Not social services. She’d never had the social round in her life. But it had been hard keeping everything straight. The policeman had done a lot of talking as well, and brought a lot of paperwork with him. But at least he’d given her a chance to speak.
Forshaw, his name had been. Nice young man. Awful thing was that he’d specifically asked her not to tidy up before he called round. He’d even sent someone along to take photographs.
He’d been there because of the man from the water company. Who hadn’t been from the water company at all. Stupid. Stupid. The whole thing was so embarrassing. She should have known better. But the man had been so polite, and there had been problems with the water pressure lately, just as he said. He told her it would only be a few minutes, and it was. He was in and out, didn’t make a mess, thanked her for her time. It was a few days before she realised what had happened.
It wasn’t so much what she’d lost as it was the sense of intrusion. This was what she’d told PC Forshaw. The thought of that man prowling around, while she kept out of his way, just as he’d asked. Picking things up and putting them down again. Slipping anything as took his fancy into that big black toolbag of his. Jewellery. A little cash. That fancy laptop of Andrew’s, from the school.
She’d given the policeman a description. He was a tall man, and very skinny. He’d had to duck through all the doorways. He had a narrow, bony face, and a crooked nose. That was all she could say. PC Forshaw had said it might well be enough, and he’d let her know if there were any developments. He told her that someone from Crime Prevention would be in touch, and at the very least they would fit a chain on the door.
Things had changed. People used to leave their doors wide open, and would never have dreamt of locking them. Now there were chains, and alarms, and who knew what else. No doubt this young lady was going to persuade her to have all manner of nonsense installed. Bars on the windows. Robot guard dogs. Goodness knew. Andrew would love that. Andrew was probably in the middle of inventing a robot guard dog, come to think of it. He was very clever on the computers. Irene had no idea what he was up to most of the time.