The University of Cambridge was celebrating May Week and, as with many superior organisations that never feel the need to explain themselves, the celebrations lasted longer than a week and took place in June.
The students had completed their exams, the punts were out on the river, picnic rugs fluttered down on to daisy-decorated grass, Pimm’s was poured, strawberries were served and the barefoot dancing began.
Sidney had just finished a meeting in King’s Parade for a diocesan ministry commission that had been asked to set up a new payment scheme for clergy. The plan was to abolish the current system of private patronage, introduce compulsory retirement at the age of seventy and establish a level of remuneration that neither excited financial ambition nor resulted in economic embarrassment.
It had been a long, dull affair and Sidney was discombobulated by the contrasting elitism of May Week with its collision of youthful exuberance, alcohol and high expenditure. He was due to head on into Grantchester to visit his former curate, Malcolm Mitchell, but decided to cheer himself up by popping in to see Geordie at the St Andrew’s Street police station. This certainly livened up his day, as his friend immediately reported that one student had narrowly escaped being trampled to death by a herd of cows while another had had a family heirloom stolen.
The crime scene was a party on Grantchester Meadows, organised by a Magdalene College drinking club in memory of their founder, Sir Joshua Wylie. Twelve executors had dressed up in tails to serve vodka and grapefruit juice out of watering cans at the end of the May ‘Bumps’ on the river. Within hours the ground had resembled a medieval battlefield, with drunken students sprawled across the Meadows in varying stages of consciousness and undress. At one point in the proceedings Richard Lane had ended up in the middle of a herd of cows that had banded together to fight a rearguard action against the excess. By the time the ambulance arrived, the student was half-dead, having caught his ankle and fallen into a cattle grid while trying to escape.
‘He made it that far?’ Sidney asked.
‘Accounts are hazy. Students may be able to study the origins of the Agricultural Revolution but most of them are incapable of walking across a field. In the meantime, another of their number, one Olivia Randall, “lost” her mother’s necklace.’
‘Valuable?’
‘It’s worth about a thousand pounds, she says.’
‘And no one has so far suggested that the stampede of cows was a deliberate distraction to facilitate the disappearance of the jewellery?’
‘No one, Sidney. Not even you. Yet.’
‘Olivia Randall, you say?’
‘Helena’s sister. She’s eleven years younger; an afterthought, apparently. Although you would have thought her parents would have had misgivings after they saw how their first child turned out.’
‘Is Olivia anything like our friend, the great investigative journalist?’
‘On the contrary, she seems a bit of a hippy.’
‘And could she simply have mislaid her necklace?’
‘Yes she could; not that she’s going to admit to it. The whole situation has got out of hand. The parents of the injured boy want to sue the farmer, whom we both know is trouble from past encounters, and the Randall sisters are terrified their mother will find out about the necklace and are making all manner of fuss.’
‘When the thing might not have been stolen at all.’
‘They want us to get it back. They seem to think it’s far more important than a half-dead student with a broken leg, smashed ribs and a fractured collarbone.’
‘But in both of these cases it may be the victim’s fault; a mixture of drunken cow-provocation and careless necklace-wearing?’
‘Yes: which is why it’s so annoying we’ve been called in to sort things out.’
‘Do you have to?’
‘There could be a case of negligence against the farmer. That’ll go down well. He will retaliate with claiming wilful damage by the students. And if the necklace has gone . . . well, theft is theft.’
‘I presume it was insured?’
‘Belongs to Mummy. She lent it to her daughter for May Week. Made quite a fuss about her not losing it, probably because I am not so sure the insurance covers them if a loopy daughter with a skinful of Pimm’s dances half-naked across the Meadows.’
‘Half-naked?’
‘You know what I mean. Anyway, apparently we have to get the necklace back before Mummy finds out it’s missing.’
‘This is, presumably, Helena’s instruction.’
‘I am afraid so.’
‘Do you need my help at all?’
‘I certainly do; both with the cow incident and the question of negligence. You have a history with the Redmonds.’
Sidney knew the farmer all too well. Harding Redmond’s wife Agatha was a formidable Labrador breeder who had provided Sidney with both Dickens and Byron. His daughter Abigail was a great beauty who had attended the same antenatal class as Hildegard.
However, Harding Redmond’s brother and sister were both in prison for poisoning a young Indian boy at a cricket match, and the farmer’s terrible temper had not endeared him to the police in the subsequent investigation.
‘I wouldn’t mind if you paid the old bastard a visit,’ Geordie continued. ‘He’s funny with the police, as you know.’
‘He has form. As do you . . .’
‘I’ll ignore that. He won’t take kindly to anyone suggesting that his animals might be to blame. Then there is the small matter of the Randall family. You are probably on better terms with Helena than I am these days, especially since you’re taking her wedding. I am sure that she and her sister will let you know more than they’ll tell me. And you’ve got Malcolm, the fiancé, on your side too.’
‘I’ll do what I can.’
‘We’ll interview all the students who were at the party, but some of your more discreet enquiries wouldn’t go amiss.’
‘Not that they’re very discreet these days.’
‘It might be easier now people are used to them. They accept you. You’ve interviewed many of them before.’
‘Which means they will be more prepared.’
‘I’m sure you can lull them into a false sense of security.’
The Cambridge quads were full of large marquees and bands unloading their equipment. This particular year the May Ball committees had secured the services of the Who, the Moody Blues and the New Vaudeville Band, who were soundchecking a jaunty number called ‘Winchester Cathedral’. Sidney wondered why on earth it was called that, and he was just thinking about the need to concentrate on his regular duties, and find a new vicar for All Saints in Newmarket, when he saw Harding Redmond on the edge of Spring Lane Meadow. The farmer was getting out of his Land Rover to look in on his herd after the drama of the near-stampede. There were about seventy cows in all, a mixture of breeders, heifers, yearlings and four or five calves, dark red in colour with white touches on the tail-switch and udder.
Redmond was an imposingly broad-framed outdoor-hued man in his mid-fifties who preferred animals to people. In his youth he had opened the bowling for the village cricket team but age had lessened his physical presence, boiling it down to a simmering aggression.
On being asked to recall the events of the previous week he said he hated the students thinking they owned the place, interfering with innocent cows and then blaming him. He’d already had the police round, explained what had happened, and didn’t fancy going over it all again. The students had been mucking about by the river in an area known as Little Fen. The herd was in Trench Meadow and the victim had got between a cow and her calf. The animals thought they were under threat and so rushed towards one of the partygoers. The boy could only make his escape uphill and that slowed him down. He fell and the cows surrounded him. It had been a job to get them all off.
‘When did you arrive on the scene?’
‘After the ambulance. My daughter sorted it all out. Saved the boy’s life.’
‘I’m sure he’ll be grateful.’
‘We won’t be expecting thanks.’
‘And that must have been Abigail? How’s she keeping?’
‘Baby John isn’t so much a baby any more.’ The memory brought the farmer’s guard down. Sidney had been instrumental in persuading a grieving woman to return the child she had snatched from hospital in the Christmas of 1963. ‘We’ll always be grateful to you, Mr Chambers, for getting him back.’
‘I didn’t do very much.’
‘We all know you did. But you’re getting yourself involved in this now? I hope you’re not going to cause trouble.’
‘It’s not so much about the cows. There was a crime committed at the same time.’
‘Apart from the one against my animals?’
‘I’m afraid so. But please tell me: what did Abigail do?’
‘She reunited the calf with the mother. It was a third-calver and she knew our Abi straight away. As soon she’d got them back together it was all over. They’re not normally so aggressive, not like the continental breeds – the Limousin or Charolais. Polled cattle are born with no horns. They’re a cross between the Norfolk cow that was bred for beef, and a Suffolk, which is used for dairy. So they’re dual-purpose . . .’
‘Two for the price of one.’
‘Not that they’re cheap. But they’re docile and friendly in the main. If that boy had got under some horns he’d have a punctured lung, so he’s lucky they were our polls. They’re the best cows you can get, in my opinion. The meat’s like fine wine, the beef of old England. The Queen keeps a herd at Sandringham. Not that she has to put up with students messing about.’
‘I’m sure they won’t be doing that again.’
‘A new generation comes every autumn. They never know better. They don’t understand that the land needs to be worked. It’s not a private park where they can swan past peasants doffing their caps. Those days are gone.’
‘Indeed they are, Harding. But the Meadows are common to us all.’
‘King’s College own the land. They should control it better.’
‘I’m not sure how you can police the whole countryside.’
‘None of those students know what it’s like to work for a living.’
‘They’ll find out soon enough.’
‘As long as they don’t start thinking I’m responsible. The police said I should have put up warning signs and fenced it off better. One of them told me I ought to have known that particular cow was a liability. But what about dangerous students, that’s what I want to know? If they think they can sue then they’ve got another think coming. I’ll give as good as I get, I can tell you that, Mr Chambers.’
‘If there is any problem with the university I am sure I can help.’
‘That would be good of you, I must say.’
Sidney remembered that Harding Redmond never knew how to end a conversation. He called Byron back.
‘Mind the herd with your dog, Mr Chambers. The cows will get funny if he comes too close.’
‘Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he gives them a wide berth.’
‘You should come round and visit our Abi some time. She’d love to see you. So would the wife. Is your Lab holding up all right? Dickens, isn’t he?’
‘That was the last one. This is Byron.’
‘Looks like he knows his own mind.’
‘Byron has a relaxed attitude to discipline but is easily bribed by food. If he senses the possibility of nourishment he is immediately obedient.’
‘You’ll let us know if you want another? Agatha’s got some puppies on the go. You may have moved up to Ely but there’s always a welcome for you down here.’
This was about as good a farewell as Sidney was going to get. Harding Redmond climbed back into his Land Rover. It was a new series IIA, he said, and he had paid nearly £2,000 pounds for it.
‘That’s about twenty-five cows or a grant for five or six students. Funny thing money, don’t you think?’
‘It is indeed,’ said Sidney, realising that the amount was twice the price of Olivia Randall’s necklace and almost £700 more than his annual salary.
Sidney loved the Meadows around midsummer: the comfrey, lady’s-smock, water figwort and arrowhead along the river; the commas, brimstones and meadow brown butterflies in the hedgerows with swifts and house martins overhead. The blossom on the hawthorn was starting to turn but the elderflower and honeysuckle were out, young jackdaws skirred in the sky and swallows hawked midges over the water. He wished he could stop and laze away the rest of the afternoon, but those student days were long gone.
At least he could watch a few overs of village cricket on Audley’s Field. He could perhaps enjoy the end of the game in Malcolm’s company and share a pint or two in the Blue Ball afterwards.
Grantchester was playing Hemingford Grey, a rival village that was coasting towards a five-wicket victory requiring only twenty-eight runs to win. Because he had a strong throw, Malcolm was fielding at long leg, close to the boundary, and Sidney walked round so that he could talk to him between overs. Reclining in a deckchair nearby was a retired Welsh undertaker, who reminisced about fielding in the long grass in the 1920s and jumping out of it to catch a batsman who thought he’d hit a six.
‘I was like a whale rising out of the sea. And I took the ball that was Jonah.’
‘Presumably,’ Sidney could not help but ask, ‘you didn’t swallow it?’
After just missing a difficult high chance, Malcolm said that he needed to concentrate, but the game was finished in the next twenty minutes and the two former colleagues were soon ensconced in post-match conviviality, during which various cricketing metaphors were extended towards the curate’s forthcoming nuptials; how he’d at last bowled a maiden over, that Helena Randall was quite a catch and that he’d need his third man once the covers came off.
Malcolm was, it has to be said, uncomfortable with the joshing and confessed to Sidney that he was worried about his ability to fulfil Helena’s expectations. He was sure that she was more experienced than he was and he also wanted to ask about her relationship with Inspector Keating. Had there been any funny business? They were always so odd when they were together and the inspector had been hostile towards him from the start.
‘I shouldn’t worry about Geordie. He’s always trying to bat above his average. It was a flirtation, nothing more. I think Helena just used her feminine wiles to extract information for the newspaper.’
‘It’s the feminine wiles I’m worried about. I’m not entirely sure what I’m in for. What’s marriage like? Is there anything I should know?’
‘This is not something that’s easy to talk about, Malcolm, especially here. All I can say is that if your love is tender and considerate and sometimes forgiving then you won’t go far wrong. It’s a matter of mutual compassion. Do you think you understand Helena?’
‘She’s a complex creature.’
‘She’s about to be your wife. You should know her pretty well by now.’
‘But do you understand Hildegard, Sidney? How much should a man know the woman he is going to marry and how much should be left to discover? Sometimes I think it’s like half-opening a present, guessing what it’s going to be and finding that it’s something entirely different.’
‘Then I look forward to being unwrapped.’
Helena had arrived in the pub, approached Malcolm from behind and put her arms around his neck. She was wearing a white smock with Jackie O sunglasses perched on her head. Neither of the men had seen her but there was a raucous jeer from the cricketers to her left.
After buying the couple drinks and talking about the arrangements for the wedding rehearsal, Sidney dared to switch the subject and ask about her sister.
‘You’ve heard already?’
‘Geordie told me.’
‘We have to stop my mother finding out about the necklace . . .’
‘She’s that formidable?’
‘Will you talk to Olivia, Sidney?’
‘If you think it will help.’
‘Fortunately her boyfriend is in Corpus. That gives you an excuse.’
‘Now I am no longer the Vicar of Grantchester I do not have so much access to the college.’
‘I am sure you can find a reason.’
‘What do you have so far?’
‘Olivia’s twenty-one and she’s what you might call a free spirit. She’s always threatening to drop out and go and live in some godforsaken ashram, so I think Mummy and Daddy just kept bribing her to finish her degree. They paid for a party, to which they weren’t even invited, and Mummy lent her the necklace for the May Balls.’
‘She’s going to more than one?’
‘She could go to them all. She’s very in demand, my sister, as you’ll see. She combines beauty with availability. If her degree was in flirting, she’d get a first.’
‘But it’s not.’
‘No, it’s in English. I think that’s almost as easy. You end up studying books that most educated people are supposed to read anyway. But that’s by the by. Mummy told Olivia that she was only supposed to wear the necklace to the May Balls but my sister couldn’t resist showing it off at some ludicrous drinks party where they all got completely smashed. Now she can’t remember a thing. Sometimes she says the drinks must have been spiked. At others she blames one of her many boyfriends. The one thing she isn’t prepared to do, it seems, is to accept any responsibility herself.’
‘She’s not upset?’
‘She’s attempting a casual bravado. At least the whole disaster has happened after finals. She’s got no excuse if she’s messed them up.’
‘I suppose I should applaud your sense of priority.’
‘Don’t be pompous, Sidney. I’m annoyed with her more than anything else. Olivia could have been killed. Instead, she’s lost one of Mummy’s most valuable pieces of jewellery. I could kill her myself, I’m so annoyed.’
‘You’re keeping it out of the papers?’
‘The jewellery but not the cows. My colleagues are on to all that. You can imagine the fun they’re having. Anyone would think that they had invented the art of alliteration. Meadows May Week Mayhem. Cow Carnage. Terror Trampling.’
‘Have they interviewed your sister yet?’
‘I’ve told them they can’t. A friend of hers has piped up instead. She was near enough to the drama at the time and used to go out with the victim. That should be enough. They love a girlfriend angle and her picture will help the story. I’m sure Emily can look appropriately distraught. One of the boys has already told me she’s “an absolute corker”. That was helpful, I must say.’
‘She’s a friend?’
‘Of Olivia’s, but she won’t mention her. We want the cow story and Emily and Richard to take all the attention. Daddy’s certain to read about it and we just need to make sure that he doesn’t feel duty-bound to tell my mother. If she finds out, she’ll either phone Newnham to ask what the hell’s going on, which will be easy enough because she’s an old girl, or she’ll take the next train up, check that Olivia’s all right, and then ask where the bloody necklace is.’
‘What’s it like?’
‘It’s a single large sapphire, but very rare: cornflower blue from Ceylon. It was fashioned into a pear shape and then set within what they call a “sparkling halo” of small mine-cut diamonds.’
‘A “sparkling halo”?’
‘Don’t go all ecclesiastical, Sidney. It’s Victorian. It’s been in the family for almost a hundred years.’
‘Why didn’t you have it? You’re the eldest.’
‘Mummy said I didn’t have the right colouring. Olivia’s the one with the bright-blue eyes. Besides, it was only a loan.’
‘I don’t suppose . . .’
‘She could have pretended to lose it in order to hang on to it? I don’t think you know my mother.’
‘And you didn’t mind the favouritism?’
‘They gave me a coral teardrop for my twenty-first. It was supposed to set off my hair. I hated it because, as you may remember from when we first met, I am prone to spots. It looked like a skin complaint. I couldn’t exchange it fast enough.’
Malcolm interrupted to get out a gallant ‘you have perfect skin, my darling’ but Helena was having none of it. ‘Happiness certainly improves it; but this whole business with my sister is still going to bring me out in a rash.’
Sidney resumed his inquisition. ‘And do you know what Olivia was doing before she discovered that she had lost the necklace?’
‘I am afraid so.’
‘Would you like to tell me?’
‘I think she was having a bit of fun.’
Malcolm elucidated. ‘Doing what students do in May Week.’
‘With a boyfriend?’
‘Alexander,’ said Helena. ‘The one that wasn’t trampled.’
‘You mean that the victim of the stampede was also her boyfriend?’
‘I think she had a bit of history with him too. You know what it’s like these days. one man is never enough for some people. Good vibrations and all that!’
‘And so could the necklace have been pulled off in a moment of passion? It may have fallen where they lay.’
‘I’ve already asked. They say they went back to the spot to look for it. It was far enough from the cows not to have been trampled by them. They were down by the river. In a dingly dell. Olivia called it their very own hobbit-hole. I’ve always hated Tolkien. But, anyway, they went back and necklace was there none.’
‘And you don’t suppose her boyfriend could have pocketed it in the ensuing chaos?’
‘I suppose he could have done. You’ll have to ask him. I’ve told Olivia that you’ll sort it out if Geordie can’t.’
‘I’ve given you a very good write-up. And you know Mummy is a good friend of Henry Richmond?’
‘I thought you were trying to keep your mother out of this?’
‘I am but if she does get to hear of it, and you were unable to help us, then you wouldn’t want Amanda finding out that you are mortal after all, would you?’
‘Amanda is well aware of my failings, as am I.’
‘Don’t let us down, Sidney. We’re relying on you.’
‘But if it wasn’t the boyfriend then it could have been anyone. And the Meadows are vast.’
‘Who knows them better than you? You could take Byron. Didn’t he find some kind of axe last time he was here?’
‘He did.’
‘There you are then.’
‘Lightning seldom strikes twice in the same place, Helena.’
‘It does where you’re concerned, Sidney. You’re our very own conductor, attracting heat wherever you stand.’
‘I’m not sure I like that idea.’
‘Yes you do. You positively crackle with electricity.’
‘I rather think you and Malcolm are the ones with the electricity,’ said Sidney.
‘Not if her mother’s got anything to do with it,’ his former curate replied.
It seemed appropriate to their conversation that the next time Sidney found himself in Grantchester he was caught in a storm and forced to take shelter by the willow trees in Long Meadow. It arrived more quickly than anticipated, the Cambridge-blue sky overrun by dark clouds and then merging to form a whitish grey, before the rain fell and sounded like an orchestra tuning up; the smither turning into a gulching hail in under a minute, a burst of Beethoven before a slow diminuendo into a shatter that lasted far longer than Sidney thought it would; almost an hour.
Sheltering close by was a tall young man with long hair, dressed in a lacy shirt and velvet and brocade flares that had been bought from the fashionable London store Granny Takes a Trip. He was carrying a small microphone attached to a Grundig tape recorder. After he had hit the stop button he nodded; indicating that he was ready for conversation.
‘I wasn’t expecting the rain,’ he said. ‘But I like the sound. I’ve been here for days.’
‘Making recordings?’
‘I want to use nature musically; to see what silence is really like.’
‘I imagine there’s no such thing.’
‘Even when everything stops there’s still the sound of the water, the drone of hoverflies, a lark or a distant dog barking. I’m Roger.’
He held out a hand. Sidney took it and introduced himself, explaining that he used to be the Vicar of Grantchester.
‘You haven’t stopped, though? You’re still a clergyman. You haven’t been defrocked or anything like that?’
‘Not so far. I came back to see one of my parishioners. The farmer with the cows.’
‘The ones that attacked the students?’
‘Were you here at the time?’
‘I was the other side of the river,’ said Roger. ‘One of the girls came to talk to me. She wanted to know if I was spying on them.’
‘She stopped a punt. I was a bit scared of her at first. But she was all right when I told her I was in a band. That’s why I was doing the recording. It got much better after that. I even started to like her. She said she preferred jazz. I quite admired that. It’s not the kind of thing many people admit to. I told her she should have been born fifty years ago.’
‘What was the girl wearing?’ Sidney asked.
‘That’s kind of weird too. She was dressed as if it was the 1920s.’
‘Any jewellery?’
‘A silver band, I think. And something in her hair.’
‘Nothing blue?’
‘No, she wore green. She looked like she belonged in the trees. I told her that. Some people have an aura to them. Hers was clover green. She laughed when I said so. She had a nice smile. I’ve been thinking about laughter quite a lot; how we each have our own. You can be recognised or given away by enjoying yourself. It’s strange, don’t you think?’
‘Do you say this because the students were laughing?’
‘I suppose so. They were mucking about with the cows. I’m not surprised the animals got fed up.’
‘Did you see what happened?’ Sidney asked.
‘It was quite far away. The green girl had gone by then. She said she’d had enough of them. I didn’t think I’d ever see her again, but I think she came back later, on the other side of the river. Perhaps she’d forgotten something. I don’t know.’
‘You didn’t help when you saw the cows?’
‘I was over here and there was the water between us. Besides, there were loads of them. And it looked dangerous enough without me adding to the situation. The cows wanted to kill the student that got into trouble. It was a job to get him out. I don’t think any of them were medical students. They were probably too pissed anyway. But then this woman with a dog came along. She knew what she was doing. I think she must be something to do with the farm . . .’
‘So you definitely saw the attack? The student couldn’t have been injured by anything other than the cows?’
‘You mean he might have been attacked first, left lying on the ground and then the cows did the rest? I don’t think so. You’ve got a strange mind for a vicar.’
‘It’s not my only job, I’m afraid.’
‘I didn’t realise times were that hard. But it must be difficult when your faith’s going out of fashion.’
‘It’s not that,’ Sidney replied quickly. ‘I can explain. But, in the meantime, you didn’t by any chance see another couple, by the river’s edge?’
‘I didn’t look too closely but there was plenty of what my friend Emo calls ummagumma going on.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Sex. I think that’s why the girl came over. She must have thought I was some kind of pervert watching them. I’m not, by the way.’
‘I’m sure you’re not.’
‘So I didn’t see much. And I didn’t record any of the kerfuffle. It was people shouting and I didn’t want that. As I said, I like natural sound, stuff we don’t always notice that just carries on no matter what’s happening.’
‘The flow of the world.’
‘That kind of thing.’
The rain had eased off, but an after-drop fell on Roger’s forehead and he wiped it away. ‘It’s hard to see the river unseen beneath the trees, don’t you think?’ he asked. ‘But when you do, it’s like laughter. Perhaps it’s laughing at us?’
After this somewhat disorientating encounter, Sidney tried to call in on Alexander Farley in his rooms at Corpus. A neighbour on the staircase said that he had gone to London with Olivia Randall and wouldn’t be back for a couple of days. This was odd in May Week, with the summer holidays so close, and it turned out to be misinformation. In fact the couple had gone to Ely, having been dispatched by an impatient Helena and were waiting for Sidney on his return. A bemused Hildegard had told them to have a look round the cathedral, visit Cromwell’s house and come back for lemonade and biscuits once she had finished her piano teaching.
Olivia was a tall young woman, bigger-boned than her sister, and appeared to have a slight stoop from trying to make herself look smaller. She was wearing a sleeveless mini tent dress in fused stripes of shocking-pink and orange; while Alexander had a floppy-collared floral shirt and white cotton flares.
Olivia told Sidney that she thought the farmer must have taken the necklace during the clear-up. ‘He was so annoyed about the cows perhaps he assumed it was his reward.’
‘I’m not sure Harding Redmond’s the kind of man who would do that sort of thing.’
‘Why not?’ Alexander asked. ‘He could have given it to his daughter.’
‘I suppose that’s possible, but I imagine both of them had more important concerns. I’m sure they would have seen to the victim and then worried about their cows. They wouldn’t have had time to consider the necklace unless it was right in front of them. Did it take long for the ambulance to come?’
‘About twenty minutes,’ Olivia replied. ‘It was horrible. We thought Richard was going to die. The cows were determined to kill him. They kept pushing each other as if they all wanted a try at stamping on him and they were butting him with their enormous heads. Alex ran to the phone box, but one of the villagers stopped him and said that she had already called for help.’
‘It was like a rugby scrum,’ said Alexander, ‘and Richard was the ball. The cows kept turning him over and over. The farmer’s daughter saved him. She swore about how irresponsible we were and how lucky we were that more of us weren’t killed and that we had no right to be on the Meadows.’
‘She’s wrong about that,’ said Sidney.
‘I never know why some of the people who live here hate students so much.’
Olivia was looking for something in her net bag. ‘It’s so unfair. It was only a party.’
‘Not for the farmer or his daughter,’ Sidney pointed out. ‘How long did everyone stay?’
‘Once Richard was taken to the ambulance everyone left. It was definitely over after that. We couldn’t really go on.’
‘And who went to the hospital to see Richard?’
Olivia started on a roll-up. ‘I think Emily might have gone.’
‘Emily?’
‘She’s in love with him.’
‘I see. And is Richard in love with her?’
There was a silence as the roll-up was completed and shared between the two students. ‘No,’ said Alexander. ‘He’s in love with Olivia.’
‘I see.’
‘Most people are.’
‘That’s not true,’ Olivia replied while sounding as if she hoped it was.
Sidney tried to stick to the matter in hand. ‘When did you notice your necklace was missing?’
‘She didn’t,’ Alexander answered. ‘I did.’
‘And when was that?’
‘When we went back to get our stuff. We were going to pick up our things that we’d left by the river and then go on to the hospital, but we realised the necklace had disappeared and we had to find it. We looked around, retraced our steps. It could have fallen off, but if it had, we would have found it. Someone must have taken it when we were dozing.’
Sidney wanted to see what Olivia had to say. ‘Are you sure you had the necklace on when you fell asleep?’
Alexander spoke for her. ‘Oh, definitely. I remember.’
‘You do?’
‘It was between her breasts.’
‘So when you woke it was gone?’
Olivia tried to explain that she couldn’t recall what had happened at the crucial moment. ‘Everyone was screaming because of the cows. I put on my blouse, I can remember doing that, but I must have left my bra behind. I’m not really sure. It was all a bit mad, to be honest.’
‘So you think your necklace was gone when you woke up?’
‘It had to be.’
‘Before all the drama with the cows?’
‘Yes.’
‘And so you think it was stolen as you both slept? Was there any redness on your neck?’
‘From it being yanked off? I don’t think so.’
‘So,’ Sidney continued, ‘if it was taken when you were asleep then it must have been someone who knew how the clasp worked.’
‘That means it was probably a woman.’
‘And could that have been your friend Emily?’
‘She was the other side of the river. And she had already gone off once she realised that we wanted to be alone.’
‘And do you know where she went?’
‘Further downriver. There was a man there, making recordings. She wanted to see what he was doing. She thought he looked a bit spooky.’
‘And is Emily a close friend?’
‘Yes. But I don’t think she’d take my necklace if that is what you are suggesting.’
‘Then who would?’
‘I don’t know. That’s why we think it must have been the farmer or his daughter.’
Sidney had had enough of this. ‘I think I know Harding Redmond well enough to be sure that he wouldn’t approach a sleeping student and take a necklace from her naked breasts.’
‘His daughter might,’ said Alexander.
‘I understand she was nowhere near the Meadows and only arrived in time to help with the rescue.’
‘But no one knows what happened afterwards.’
‘As I have already said, I imagine Abigail had enough to do setting the cows right.’
Olivia had another suggestion. ‘Perhaps the man doing the recordings stole it?’
‘I thought you said he was the other side of the river?’
‘He could have swum across.’
‘Why would he do that?’ Sidney asked.
‘Because he saw the necklace lying on the ground?’
‘Even though you were sure it was taken from your neck?’
‘I can’t be positive.’
‘In any case, it was too far away for him to see anything lying in the undergrowth across the river.’
‘Unless he had binoculars.’
‘I think you’re clutching at straws,’ said Sidney.
He was becoming increasingly irritable. Could these people not remember anything? How had they ever been able to pass an exam?
‘I don’t know how criminals do these things,’ Olivia replied.
Sidney said that he would talk to Harding and Abigail Redmond once more. It was also important he spoke to Emily Hastings.
‘She’s at Newnham. It’s a girls’ college.’
‘I know that,’ said Sidney. ‘The principal is a friend of mine.’
‘Emily’s quite an eccentric,’ said Alexander. ‘She makes her own clothes; dresses as a 1920s flapper. I think her father might even be a vicar.’
Things were looking up. ‘Then I’m sure she’ll tell me the truth,’ said Sidney. ‘If she can remember it.’
Before visiting Newnham, Sidney decided to go to Addenbrooke’s Hospital in order to find out how Richard Lane was recovering from the stampede. Perhaps he might be able to provide a clearer account of what had happened on the Meadows.
On arrival, the hospital chaplain told him the boy’s parents had just left and that it had been a job to pacify them. ‘I’m afraid they want compensation.’
‘I suppose you can’t really blame them. How is the patient?’
‘He’ll live. It was a stupid thing to do; not that he’s taking any responsibility. Students hardly ever do. Lane comes from a family that can’t ever accept that anything might be their fault. There always has to be someone to blame. It’s something of a Cambridge disease, I find.’
‘Perhaps it’s one we should try to cure.’
‘They’re only just allowing visitors. The boy’s been drifting in and out of consciousness. I’m not sure if he can cope with two clergymen. He’ll think he’s still delirious.’
‘It’ll be a novelty for him,’ Sidney replied. ‘Perhaps he can find a way to blame us for something.’
‘Unhappiness at school. Sunday boredom. Unrealistic expectations . . .’
‘Omnipotence and the problem of evil; a loving God who allows accidents to afflict the innocent . . .’
‘We’ll be ready.’
Richard Lane was propped up in bed. The covers were damp because he was on so much morphine that he kept blacking out between picking up a beaker of water and trying to drink it. A nurse patted down the sheets and told Sidney he could have five minutes.
Once the explanations had been made, Richard told them what he could remember.
‘Once I realised what was happening it was too late. The cows were charging at me and I had no time to get away. I felt this thump against the side of my back when the first one hit me. I stumbled and thought I could stagger on but then I was hit again from the opposite side and fell over. They began to head-butt me. They were right on top, blocking the light from the sky. I cried out for help but I knew it was hopeless. There were so many animals. I tried to protect my head and rolled up into a ball but they kept butting me and trying to kneel down on me, wanting to get me to uncurl. In the end, I thought that if I gave up the struggle and pretended I was already dead they would stop. But I didn’t have time to do that because there was then this enormous weight on my back and shoulder. One of them must have knelt right on top of me. It was trying to crush me to death. I must have passed out. That’s all I remember, apart from thinking that it was the most humiliating way to die.’
‘It’s a wonder you survived.’
‘The nurses said there was so much blood that it had all clogged up and they had to cut my clothes away. It was a cream linen suit. I’ve got a broken leg, collarbone and cracked ribs. I don’t know how the cows missed my head. They say it’ll take months to get better. I was planning on going to India.’
Sidney asked if anyone else had been near the cows at the time.
‘Everyone was lying down on the grass, playing some kind of weird game of listening to grasshoppers. We even started imitating them at one point, I seem to remember. But we were really just drinking away and having a good laugh. I was looking for my friend Emily. Olivia and Alexander had just wandered off to find a secluded spot.’
‘I don’t know if you’ve heard about Olivia’s necklace?’ Sidney asked.
‘No one’s told me anything. But then I’ve been so out of it.’
‘Has no one been to see you?’
‘They haven’t allowed anyone in except my parents.’
‘I am sure your friends will come.’
‘It’s the end of term. You know what it’s like.’
‘What about Emily Hastings? Alexander Farley? Olivia Randall?’
‘I suppose so. But it’s been a bit complicated . . .’
‘Do you mean, Olivia?’
‘Well, yes. She’s lovely. But she’s a bit of a lunatic.’
‘Do you think so?’
‘She makes things up.’
‘You’ve not been sweet on her yourself?’
‘She thinks everyone’s in love with her or, if they’re not, they should be. It’s a pain. I’m keener on Emily, to be honest, but she’s out of my league and I’m hardly in a fit state to do anything about it now. Missed the boat on that one.’
‘I don’t know,’ said Sidney. ‘Life is long.’
‘Nearly wasn’t, though, was it? Bloody cows. And why me? Do you think they singled me out? I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I was just trying to cross a field.’
‘I don’t think anyone tried to set them against you. That would be a hard thing to do, I imagine. I assume it was simply a case of bad luck.’
‘You’re not wrong.’
‘I am sorry,’ Sidney continued, ‘but could I just ask one thing before I go? The main party was in Little Fen. The cows were in Trench Meadow which is on the way back towards Cambridge. Were you actually leaving the party when this happened?’
‘I thought I heard Emily calling, some more friends arriving, but I was mistaken. I was hot and confused and the drink was stronger than we all thought. God knows what was in it.’
‘I understand. I must let you rest.’
‘What were you saying about a necklace?’ the boy asked.
‘It doesn’t matter,’ Sidney replied. ‘It can wait.’
As he left the hospital he wondered if Richard could have been responsible for the theft after all. Could the cows have set upon him after he had stolen the necklace and while he was making his escape; taking some kind of short cut that had gone disastrously wrong?
Because Sidney was due to dine at High Table that evening he decided to pay the Master of Corpus a quick visit. It was a while since they had spoken and he thought he could use the opportunity to find out if Richard Lane’s parents were well off, if their decision to sue Harding Redmond was unalterable and whether their son might be in need of money.
The master was concerned about the boy’s health and stated how predictable it was that there always seemed to be some kind of post-exam disaster when the students were winding down at the end of their university career. It was similar to coming down off a mountain: the descent was always more perilous than the ascent.
Sidney discovered that, like Alexander Farley, Richard Lane had been reading law (his father was a QC) and he didn’t appear to have any financial worries. He had been a diligent pupil, spoken at the Union, written the odd article for Varsity and had caused little trouble during his time at Cambridge.
‘I’m sorry he’s sustained such an attack,’ the master said, ‘but they tell me he’s likely to make a full recovery. He’ll be able to continue his training in the autumn. I gather there was a related incident?’
‘I am not sure about “related”.’
‘Inspector Keating let slip that it wasn’t just the business of the cows that interested him. A priceless jewel, I hear?’
‘I don’t think it’s priceless.’
‘The girl’s mother told me that it was a family heirloom which could never be replaced.’
Sidney tried not to be surprised. ‘Mrs Randall knows about the theft?’
‘Hermione is a friend of mine. I thought it was only right to tell her. We were in an amateur production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream in Vienna before the war. It’s where she met her husband. We were ex-pats together. Geoffrey’s a great Shakespearean; named his daughters after famous heroines. Helena and Olivia. I’ve got a daughter called Rosalind, although everyone calls her Lindy. It’s good to keep Shakespeare in the bloodline, don’t you think?’
As ever, Sidney was keen to stick to the point. ‘The girls were hoping that they would find the necklace before their mother discovered it was missing. Then she would never have needed to know.’
‘Well it’s too late for subterfuge. Hermione is not one to waste any time. I think she’ll be here the day after tomorrow.
‘That won’t go down well with her daughters.’
‘It’s not the daughters we need to worry about. Their mother is a very formidable woman.’
* * *
Sidney was unsure how far his responsibilities extended. If Keating was already on to the theft and Hermione Randall was about to turn up, he didn’t see what more he could do to help proceedings. However, he did take up Harding Redmond’s offer to talk to his daughter Abigail. He had always admired the girl’s free-spirited, untutored perceptiveness and what had eventually become a firm moral stance.
He began by congratulating her on saving the situation and preventing a death.
‘It was a close shave, Mr Chambers, I’ll tell you that. I’ve never seen anything like it.’
‘Did you ever fear the animals might turn on you?’
‘Not really. I know those cows. We’ve all grown up together, you might say.’
Sidney suppressed a smile at the young woman’s carefree comparison of herself to a group of heifers. ‘I was just wondering: if someone knew them well, might they be able to predict or even direct their behaviour?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘If two students were playing around, for example, causing mischief, might it be possible for one of them to set the cows on the other?’
‘It would be a risky thing to do. They could just as easily turn on you.’
‘Unless,’ Sidney suggested, ‘the person managed to organise the attack from behind.’
‘But why would anyone want to do that?’
‘To create a distraction.’
‘In order to commit some other crime, you mean? It doesn’t seem possible, Mr Chambers. Unless someone was behind the victim, with fodder, and the cows thought they were going to be fed. That might work, but not in the summer, when there’s plenty of grazing. Those cows were all full up and enjoying the sunshine until the students started messing about.’
Redmond joined them by the stables and, overhearing this, realised what Sidney was up to. ‘The other day, when you first came round, you mentioned another crime, one that happened while all this was going on. Are you going to tell us what it is?’
Sidney came clean about the theft of the necklace, described what it looked like and asked if Abigail either remembered Olivia wearing it or if she had seen it anywhere on the Meadows in the aftermath of the accident.
‘I can’t say I looked too closely. I was more concerned with saving the boy. Then we had to set the cows right, get them all back together as a herd, check none of them were injured.’
‘I just wondered if a necklace had come off in the mêlée,’ Sidney continued, ‘or even if the boy was carrying it in his pockets.’
‘Are you suggesting that he might have stolen it before the cows got to him?’
‘I’m trying not to rule anything out.’
‘Got his comeuppance if he did,’ said Abigail. ‘But if it was on his person then wouldn’t they have found it in the hospital?’
‘Unless it fell out in the rumpus.’
‘But I would have seen it when we rescued him.’
‘And you didn’t?’
‘No.’
‘Which means it must have been taken from the couple either while they were sleeping or after they had left their things and come to help.’
‘I definitely didn’t see any necklace,’ said Abigail. ‘The boy could have swallowed it, I suppose.’
‘Surely not,’ said Sidney. ‘That would be far too dangerous.’
‘And I don’t think that would be the first thing on his mind, would it, Mr Chambers?’
‘There’s no lengths some folk won’t go to,’ her father added. ‘Stealing jewellery and suing hard-working farmers. Haven’t they got better ways to earn a living?’
‘The necklace has sentimental significance,’ Sidney replied.
‘The kind only the rich can afford. Is that all those people can think about: their jewellery? A boy was nearly killed, his parents are likely to sue, I may go out of business and all they want to talk about is a bloody necklace.’
Emily Hastings was indeed a clergy daughter. Her father was the Vicar of St Mary Redcliffe in Bristol, a well-known figure who used his church as a political debating chamber to campaign for CND and annoy the government. His daughter was a languid, somewhat eccentric figure with a round pale face, shell-rimmed glasses, and long dark hair that was parted in the centre and decorated with a peacock-blue flapper headband. She smoked Balkan Sobranies as they drank Noilly Prat and listened to jazz. Sidney was so dazzled by her company that he ended up discussing the difference between Bechet’s clarinet and saxophone playing for a good fifteen minutes before they got round to recent events on the Meadows. Even then Emily wanted to talk about other things, tactfully removing her copy of Wilhelm Reich’s psychoanalytical book The Function of the Orgasm from the floor and putting it back on the shelves.
‘I don’t know why you’ve come to visit me, Mr Archdeacon. Your company is very pleasant, but if it’s about the incident with the cows I am afraid I left before the drama.’
‘So you didn’t witness the incident?’
‘In the distance, but I was already on my way home. I heard a commotion as I was leaving Long Meadow but it was too late to turn back and I wanted to get to Newnham. There wasn’t much about the party that excited me, to be honest. Too many boorish public-school boys who’ve no manners. I’m quite a dull girl really.’
‘I reckon you protest too much.’
‘I don’t know. I had to ask to be taken to a May Ball. Can you imagine the humiliation?’
‘Some people might find that a good thing. You had the ability to choose rather than to be chosen.’
‘I think a man can sense desperation in a woman.’
‘I’m not so sure.’ Sidney was surprised by this shift in tone. ‘Perhaps you have to disguise it as confidence.’
‘Exactly.’ Emily gave her right arm an airy waft. ‘I am sure you can tell this whole thing is an act; a mask; a charade in which I pretend to be someone I’m not.’
‘I think we can all be a little bit guilty of that. Who did you ask?’
‘Richard, as a matter of fact. Well, he won’t be coming with me now, will he?’
‘Had he said yes?’
‘I think I’d served a purpose. It was one way of getting back at Olivia.’
‘She had left him for Alexander?’
‘Without bothering to tell him. I think she let him find out.’
‘No, a few days before.’
‘I’m amazed he showed up.’
‘It was his party.’
‘Then I’m surprised she came.’
‘I wasn’t. Olivia has a relaxed attitude to physical proximity. I don’t think she really minds who she sleeps with. She once told me that it was just another form of exercise. Whereas I . . .’
‘Think it might have to involve love?’
‘Affection, at least. We’re not animals; although the veneer of sophistication can be removed by alcohol all too swiftly. Would you like a top-up?’
Sidney thought of his father’s watchful eye and how inappropriate it was to be spending so much time in a young student’s rooms. ‘I’d better not.’
‘You don’t mind if I have one?’
‘Not at all.’
‘There’s something delightfully decadent about getting sloshed on a Tuesday afternoon, don’t you think? Where were we?’
‘The party.’
‘Oh, yes. I didn’t join in the so-called fun because I was dressed for cocktails rather than anything else.’
‘I imagine you looked very stylish.’
‘I was wearing a dark-green sequin dress with a fringe hem. I thought I’d try to blend in with the landscape. The back was too precious to sit down on so close to the river; the ground wasn’t dry enough so I went home when things started getting fruity.’
‘Can you remember what Olivia was wearing?’
‘A powder-blue floaty dress, strappy sandals.’
‘Her necklace?’
‘You saw it?’
‘Everyone did. She wore that colour of dress to set it off. It matched her eyes, she said, not that any of the men looked into them for too long. The necklace gave them the perfect opportunity to stare at her breasts.’
‘Was it the kind of necklace you would have worn?’
‘It’s not really my thing. Too Victorian.’
‘So if, for example, Olivia had offered to lend it to you . . .’
‘I see where you are leading, Mr Archdeacon. I am reading experimental psychology, you know. It’s not the kind of thing I would have wanted to steal. Believe me, I have my own style and my own studies to keep up. I don’t seek out trouble. That seems to be your job.’
Once Sidney had confessed to Amanda what he had been up to in one of their ‘catch-up’ telephone calls, he was warned that Hermione Randall was a well-known socialite and ‘a very forceful woman’.
‘More than you, Amanda?’
‘Definitely. You don’t need to worry about me any more. I’ve lost half my confidence. I think it must be age. That and marriage. People look straight past me these days.’
‘Nonsense.’
‘It’s true. I don’t count. I’m old. I’m invisible. I could get away with all manner of crimes.’
‘Don’t start on that.’
‘I won’t. But it’s true.’
‘So you think someone older could have stolen the necklace? Not a student at all, but an intrepid passer-by?’
‘I don’t know, Sidney; but certainly someone who wasn’t young, giddy and drunk. Perhaps you should ask Henry. He might have been in Cambridge at the time.’
‘Don’t be absurd.’
‘I’m not. He’s been behaving very oddly lately. He works late and keeps disappearing.’
‘He likes his privacy.’
‘I only hope he hasn’t been seeing his ex-wife. I can never quite trust her to keep away.’
Henry had divorced Connie Richmond eight years previously but it hadn’t stopped her sending threatening letters to Amanda in an attempt to disrupt the romance.
‘Do you know we’ve been married nearly three years and I still can’t quite tell what my husband’s thinking. Do you have that with Hildegard?’
‘All the time.’
‘It’s irritating, isn’t it?’
‘I think it’s supposed to keep us interested.’
‘Oh, is that what it is? What if we give up and look for entertainment elsewhere?’
‘That isn’t advisable, Amanda, and well you know it.’
‘It’s what you’re doing, though, isn’t it? It may not be the amorous activity of a bounder or a rake but you’re still away from home, running around the countryside looking for a necklace in a field full of cows and nubile young women. A needle in a haystack is a bit too prosaic for you, isn’t it, Sidney? A needle? Oh no, that’s not valuable enough. A haystack? Too banal. You need a whole field, mad cows, drunk students, young lovers, glamorous women, an angry farmer . . .’
‘I’m right, though, aren’t I? You’re enjoying all this.’
‘I’m intrigued. That’s different.’
‘Well, I can’t wait to hear what you make of Hermione Randall. I think you may be about to meet your match.’
Sidney decided that he had better talk through the case with Geordie over a couple of pints in the Eagle. Were the two crimes connected or were they not? And why was there still no sign of the necklace?
‘I don’t know what they’ve all been playing at,’ said Keating as they sat outside in the yard. ‘The whole thing’s just a cock and bull story, without the cock.’
‘Or, indeed, the bull,’ said Sidney. ‘I did have a mad idea that the culprit could have been Richard Lane, who having been spurned by a former girlfriend took the jewel as an act of revenge. but I think that’s too far-fetched.’
‘And we would have found the necklace in his clothing, unless Abigail Redmond picked it up in the aftermath.’
‘She even suggested he swallowed it.’
‘Then they would have found it in the hospital. Blimey, is that how her mind works?’
‘I don’t think she would pick up a necklace from the ground and not tell me about it.’
‘The family’s criminal record says it all.’
‘But not her, Geordie. Abigail’s always been a good girl. I’ve never found her to be envious or irresponsible.’
‘You’ve always had a soft spot for that woman.’
‘I’ve seen her grow up. I think it has to be one of the students.’
‘What about Emily Hastings? From what you tell me, she seems the most likely suspect.’
‘I’ve been thinking about that. It may be a question of timing. If she arrived later than we think, approaching from the town and across Long Meadow, she might have been behind Richard Lane just before the cows attacked.’
‘You mean they could have been going for her?’
‘Possibly.’
‘But they didn’t reach her because they got to the boy instead?’
‘And she managed to escape along the riverbank, possibly getting across in a boat or a punt.’
‘But then she would have been breathless when she met the weird musician.’
‘He’s not that odd.’
‘Did you ask him if she was breathless?’
‘No, not yet. I hadn’t even met her when I first spoke to him.’
‘Then perhaps you should see him again?’
‘I will, Geordie. But even then she would have had to recross the river to steal the necklace when Olivia and Alexander had gone to help. And how would she know it was there? She hadn’t even reached the party.’
‘Unless she’d seen Olivia beforehand.’
‘We need to ask her about that too. We could also search her rooms if you like. I’m sure I could swing it with the principal of Newnham.’
‘Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.’
‘Then there is the happy or not-so-happy couple . . .’
Geordie checked his notebook. ‘Olivia Randall and Alexander Farley. I suppose the girl could have kept the necklace all along, but I don’t think she has the cunning to do that. The new boyfriend is a different matter, though. He could easily have taken it.’
‘But why would he? And how could he have kept it from her?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe he wanted it as some kind of proof that he had known her.’
‘But he must have thought Olivia was enough of a catch.’
‘His boat had come in, his icing was on the cake and all his Christmases had come at once. What’s he like?’ Geordie asked. ‘How new a boyfriend is he? How much does he love her? And would he have the means to sell the sapphire? It’s certainly easy enough for him to have taken it as she slept. He’d already removed half her clothes; a necklace wouldn’t have been too much of a challenge. It could even have fallen off in their little tryst. I think you need to get to see him on his own, Sidney, unless you want my help. I don’t seem to have done very much so far and we’re not making a lot of progress with the other students. Who are you talking to next?’
‘I fear that decision is out of my hands. Helena’s mother is about to arrive. Have you ever met her?’
‘Fortunately, not.’
‘Perhaps you’d better keep it that way.’
‘I’ve nothing to hide.’
‘If Helena’s told her anything about you, there’ll be trouble. A married man like you, flirting away with a woman young enough to be his daughter . . .’
‘She’s not that young.’
‘She was when you started.’
‘Started what? My relationship with Helena, not that it ever was a relationship, has always been above board. There might have been a mild flirtation, mind, but I have always behaved in an appropriate manner and anyone who thinks that there has been anything untoward can . . .’
‘Teasing again, Geordie . . .’
‘You bastard, Sidney. What about you and Barbara Wilkinson? Don’t get me started on that.’
‘A mere bagatelle. Shall I get the drinks or not?’
‘It’s definitely your round. And time to talk about something else; cricket, perhaps.’
‘Cricket? You must be desperate.’
‘I am desperate, Sidney – for another pint, if nothing else. We’ll have to be on best behaviour when that woman arrives, especially if she’s anything like her eldest daughter.’
Hermione Randall – ‘that woman’ – was a briskly efficient, tightly groomed society lady who wore a pink and cream Chanel two-piece suit with a Maison Michel hat and spoke with a snappy bravado that put action above thought. As they took Earl Grey and scones at the Orchard Tea Rooms the following day, Mrs Randall told Sidney that she was already ‘more than irritated’ as she was almost certainly going to have to delay her forthcoming motoring tour of the Loire Valley. This was a considerable disappointment as it jeopardised the highlight of the entire trip, a chance to meet Robert Carrier, chef and author of Great Dishes of the World. ‘We’re due to have dinner with him in the Château de Chenonceau. I’ve already bought the dress. Courrèges. I chose one in midnight-blue silk and satin that would specifically suit my necklace. And now that fool of a child has contrived to lose it.’
‘To be fair to Olivia,’ Sidney replied, ‘it may have been stolen.’
‘That would not have been the case if she had looked after it properly.’
‘It is something of a family heirloom, I gather?’
‘My grandfather brought the jewel back from Ceylon after working for the governor, Arthur Hamilton-Gordon. They went on to run the Pacific Islands Company, which dealt in mining, and so he had it set in diamonds from South Africa. The platinum for the chain is apparently from Colombia. He liked to say that it came from all over the globe. When he first put the necklace round my grandmother’s neck he said she was the centre of his world.’
‘Very romantic.’
‘My mother wore it when she was one of the last debutantes to be presented to Queen Victoria. Then it was passed on to me, in 1930, when Haile Selassie was declared Emperor of Ethiopia. I was going to give it to Helena but she has such unsuitable skin and I couldn’t bear to hand it over. Even then I only loaned it to Olivia. I don’t know why I did; to part with something that is so inextricably linked not just with the story of our family but with history itself was madness. I cannot understand how my daughter has been so careless with such a treasure. To leave the thing lying in a field!’
‘Olivia is convinced that it was taken from round her neck.’
‘While she was too drunk to wake up. You don’t need to spare me the details. We have to get it back, that’s all. I’ve had a word with your man Keating and any jeweller worth his salt will know that the necklace has been stolen. It will be almost impossible to resell. I’ve also put up a reward of one hundred pounds.’
‘You’re making the theft public? I remember that Helena wanted the whole thing to be kept low-key.’
‘That is hardly the case now I know all about it. She’s a journalist, Mr Archdeacon. We might as well put her to some use. It’s about time that girl did something for her family rather than herself.’
When he next saw Roger Waters, the thoughtful sound-recordist, working further upriver by Byron’s Pool, Sidney asked if Emily Hastings had been wet or breathless when she had spoken to him that day on the Meadows. He also wanted to know how soon the incident with the cows occurred after they had met. Could the stampede have already begun by the time she had reached him?
‘No, it wasn’t like that. We had a good chat. Then we spotted what was going on.’
‘And did you see the lovers run towards the cows?’
‘There was so much happening.’
‘But were you aware of a canoodling couple?’
‘I’ve already told you. But I don’t like to look at that kind of thing. I get plenty of that at home.’
‘You have a girlfriend?’
‘Yes, I do. Not that it has much to do with all this.’
‘She doesn’t mind you going off, making recordings and talking to strangers?’
‘She’s used to that. I’m in a band. It happens all the time.’
‘And when Emily left, did she stay the same side of the river?’
‘As far as I could see, yes she did.’
‘On the Cambridge side, not the Grantchester side?’
‘That’s right. She went back towards Coe Fen.’
‘She couldn’t have crossed the river and stolen the necklace from the spot where Olivia and Alexander had been doing their . . .’
‘Ummagumma? No. I don’t think so. In any case, she didn’t seem like that type of girl.’
‘And you never crossed the river yourself?’
‘Why would I do that? Do you think I took the necklace? Blimey, you’ve got a nerve. I didn’t know it was there, did I? I can’t see anything from here. I hardly move. That’s the point. Sound washes past me. I stay still. I let the sounds come to me.’
‘I’m sorry, I was only wondering.’
The man was almost amused. ‘In any case, what are you doing involving yourself in all this? You’re a vicar.’
‘I know the girl’s mother. And her sister.’
‘Are you keen on either of them yourself? Is that what it is?’
‘That’s quite a direct question.’
‘You started asking them.’
‘I am married.’
‘Still, to be married and yet to be at the beck and call of three other women; that must take some doing.’
‘Believe me, Roger, I won’t be involving myself again. I’m sorry to have asked such questions. It’s all got out of hand. I’ve just about had enough.’
‘I’m more interested in music than ummagumma. You should come to one of our concerts; the band might take off.’
‘Is there any hope of that?’
‘We’re playing all the universities and we’re going to Holland. And we’ve got a record deal. I think there’s a chance we might be on Late Night Line-Up. So it’s possible. Just let me know if you want to come.’
Sidney smiled. He couldn’t imagine it at all. ‘I’d like that,’ he said. ‘And my wife might too. She’s the musician in our family.’
‘I might even write something about that girl,’ Roger continued. ‘There’s something about her. The sunlight on her eyes.’
‘Well, you know where to find me.’
‘I don’t actually.’
‘Ely Cathedral.’
‘But are you ever there?’ Roger asked.
Sidney thought that he should visit Abigail Redmond once more, not because he considered her a suspect, but because he wanted to know if she could remember anything further about the immediate aftermath of the accident. He also mentioned the hundred-pound reward.
‘That’s not going to make much difference, is it?’ she said.
‘Whyever not?’
‘If a poor person stole the necklace they can get more for it when they sell it, and a rich person doesn’t need the money.’
‘I think it’s a reward for information. So if you know anything . . .’
‘Don’t insult me, Mr Chambers. I don’t need to be bribed to tell the truth.’
‘I just wanted to check one thing. You can’t, by any chance, remember if Olivia Randall was wearing a necklace or not at the time of the accident?’
‘She could have been. I might have noticed. I might not. I did have other things on my mind.’
‘But she was definitely there when you were trying to get the cows off?’
‘Oh yes. She was there all right, screaming away with her shirt half-undone. So there was no necklace, come to think of it. Her boyfriend wasn’t with her, though.’
‘Yes, I remember. He went to get help.’
‘That’s what he claims.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘He didn’t return by road. He came from the river. You won’t get much help from there.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘I remember seeing him do some kind of arc. I thought he was trying to avoid the cows but now I realise that he was making it look like he was coming from somewhere else.’
‘And it was definitely Alexander Farley?’
‘I don’t know his name. He had one of those floppy floral shirts with a big collar and he made a great song and dance about how help was on its way.’
‘Do you know something, Abigail?’ Sidney replied. ‘You might just have earned yourself a hundred pounds.’
In order to make sure this was possible he went back to Corpus to talk once more to its guest of honour, Mrs Hermione Randall; a woman, Sidney surmised, who was in desperate need of a title before her name. He only hoped she would be appropriately ladylike when she heard his proposition. He was now pretty confident that he could ensure the discreet return of the necklace in exchange for the reward.
‘You have secured the necessary information?’ she asked.
‘And are you prepared to reveal the name of the culprit?’
‘Not until I have hold of the necklace. It is a delicate matter.’
‘I hope that doesn’t mean you have stolen it yourself, Mr Archdeacon.’
Sidney decided to be amused rather than insulted. ‘Not at all. I am afraid that you will have to take it on trust that I am acting in the best interests of everyone.’
‘If you maintain your secrecy, I am not sure the police will agree with you.’
‘I am hoping they will never know.’
‘You mean to keep this from Helena’s friendly inspector?’
‘He is my friend too.’
‘I hear that Helena has him wrapped round her little finger.’
Sidney could have made it clear that their relationship had been slightly more complex than that – a flirtation that had lasted for over a decade – but he did not want to make matters worse. ‘I don’t think anyone would wish to get on the wrong side of either of your daughters.’
‘Oh, Olivia is a pushover. Helena has a bit more grit. That’s from my side of the family.’
‘I don’t think anyone would take any of you lightly. You are a formidable unit.’
‘That is kind. I see you mean to flatter me into submission.’
‘If I could possibly have a cheque for the reward? Then we can move swiftly towards resolution.’
Mrs Randall reached for her handbag. ‘Whom shall I make it out to?’
You don’t catch me out like that, Sidney thought. ‘If you would leave me to fill in the name of the payee.’
‘You are worried that if I know the perpetrator I shall report them?’
‘This is not the perpetrator but a witness.’
‘And will we ever know who that is?’
‘I hope not. But I am sure the money will be put to good use. Think of it as a charitable donation.’
Hermione Randall wrote out the cheque. ‘I give enough to charity as it is. This feels more like blackmail.’
‘I can assure you it is not. Once the money is cleared . . .’
‘Cleared? You mean we are going to have to wait another three days?’
‘I am afraid so.’
‘You think I might cancel the cheque? That is not very trusting.’
‘I know that a lady would never do such a thing. But a bank might.’
‘I do have sufficient funds.’
‘I am sure you do.’
‘All I want is the necklace. Three days!’
‘You could look upon it as an opportunity to spend more time with your daughters. We could even discuss Helena’s wedding.’
‘I am in no mood for planning celebrations.’
‘Then I can only hope that will change. What was lost is about to be found.’
Mrs Randall signed the cheque and tore it from her book. ‘Is that the parable of the lost sheep? It would be more appropriate if it was a cow.’
‘It’s the parable of the prodigal son; or in this case, perhaps, the prodigal daughter. Thank you, Mrs Randall.’
‘I suppose you may call me Hermione.’
‘I am not sure I am ready for that,’ Sidney replied.
He made his way across to the fourteenth-century buildings of Old Court, pretending to leave the college by St Bene’t’s Gate, but turned left up a staircase that led to Alexander Farley’s rooms. Fortunately the student was in, alone and almost unsurprised by Sidney’s visit.
‘I assume you want to ask us some more questions,’ he said. ‘I am seeing Olivia later. We are having lunch with her mother.’
‘That must be something of a challenge for you. I don’t imagine you were expecting to spend so much time with her.’
‘She is quite a difficult woman, I admit.’
‘I mean,’ Sidney cut to the chase, ‘that it must be hard for you to keep silent.’
‘What are you implying?’
‘I am talking about the necklace.’
‘You think I stole it? Why would I do that? If Olivia found out she’d be furious. It would be the end of everything.’
‘But I don’t think you expect this relationship to last long, do you?’ Sidney persisted. ‘Once she is back in London and you are doing your vocational training, it’s going to be hard to continue.’
‘I don’t know about that.’
‘I think you do, Alexander.’
‘But why would I steal?’
‘To prove you could. I think it’s a kind of trophy, a souvenir of something you know will never last. Olivia is very beautiful, probably the most stunning girl you have ever known. I wonder if you think you will never find someone as attractive again. It’s the end of Cambridge. You are in a field, the celebrations are all around you, it couldn’t be more perfect, and then it all goes horribly wrong; the violent accident; the ex-boyfriend; you see how upset Olivia is, her mood changes, and you pick up the one thing of beauty that remains: the necklace. It’s an impulsive decision. You somehow believe you have a right to it, your very own Cambridge blue.’
‘That’s ridiculous.’
‘I actually think you meant to give it back. You could have said that you held it for safekeeping, you could even have pretended to have found it. But during the search you became aware that Abigail Redmond, the farmer’s daughter, could be blamed. Emily Hastings could also have stolen it. Even poor old Richard Lane could have taken it before the accident, while you were asleep. So you decided that you might as well hang on to it. And you did so for so long that it soon became too late to do anything other than keep it. You were stuck with it, unable to give it back without looking stupid, guilty or causing an enormous fuss.’
‘An interesting theory . . .’
‘Now the situation won’t go away. The longer it goes on the worse it gets. I know the necklace must be here, in your rooms, or you have hidden it somewhere. I’m giving you the opportunity to return it. This is your only hope, Alexander. Otherwise I will call in the police. And then your troubles really will begin. You will have a criminal record, there will be no chance of practising law, and your career will be over before it has begun. These are your choices. You can either confess what you have done and give the necklace back to Olivia, taking a risk on her forgiveness, or, alternatively, you can hand it to me.’
‘Olivia would have to pretend to her mother that she had mislaid it all along. I don’t know how we could explain it without looking like idiots.’
‘Then I think you should give the necklace to me,’ said Sidney. ‘I will make sure it is returned without anyone knowing how it disappeared.’
‘And why would you do that?’
‘Because I believe in second chances, especially for the young. You’re a lucky young man and I hope that one day you will be aware of how privileged you are and will show mercy and generosity to others – especially if you ever become a judge. Perhaps that’s naive of me, but I think this was a desperate impulsive act, an opportunist moment of temptation, and you didn’t think through the consequences. As a result, you have been paralysed into silence. The more you kept your secret the harder it became to confess and so you have ended up doing nothing, hoping that the tension would dissipate or, at worst, that someone else would be blamed. But no one can be prosecuted as long as you have the necklace. And so the case will remain open, and you will live in fear unless you do something about it now. I am perhaps the answer to your prayer. I can make the whole thing go away. Only then need you decide how honest to be with Olivia.’
‘And do you think I should tell her?’
‘In time, perhaps you should. But if the relationship comes to an end, then perhaps you will only have taught her to be more careful; in what she does with her necklace and with her future choice of boyfriend.’
‘She’s not an easy girl.’
‘And you are not a simple man, Alexander. Give me the necklace.’
‘I have your word?’
‘I hope this unfortunate event will have taught you not to keep souvenirs of your conquests. Now please either give me the necklace or assure me that you will find a way of returning it anonymously.’
A few hours later, a package arrived at the Porters’ Lodge addressed to Mrs Hermione Randall, care of The Master, and Abigail Redmond was £100 better off. The mystery was not exactly solved but there was insufficient evidence for the police to proceed.
Geordie was relieved to be rid of the case but wasn’t prepared to let it go without comment. As he bought the first pint of the evening in the RAF bar of the Eagle, he noticed that his friend was smiling.
‘You’ve been up to something, Sidney, I know it.’
‘It’s nothing that need concern you. I have talked to people, that is all.’
‘I could have you for wasting police time.’
‘What about clergy time?’
‘Your attitude is very different to ours. You’ve got all day, or rather the whole of eternity.’
‘Not in the material world where all flesh is grass.’
‘And cows trample over it. Honestly, Sidney, I sometimes wonder if you really are on the side of the angels. I know you have been protecting the privileged.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘Students . . .’
‘And others too. I have been looking after the young who make mistakes and haven’t yet found out who they are or what they’d like to bring to the world. Think of all the errors we both made in our youth.’
‘I’d rather not . . .’
‘Well, when I do I always remember those who gave me the benefit of the doubt. I think I was more shamed by them than those who set out to punish me straight away. Gracious behaviour can inspire others to do the same. People starting out in life need a little slack from time to time, whether it’s Abigail Redmond or the students or, indeed, anyone else. The quality of mercy is not strained.’
‘Say what you like. The whole lot of you have been wasting police time.’
‘On the contrary, Geordie, if I told you the full story I think you’d find that I’ve prevented a lengthy court case and have saved police time.’
‘Would you like to go into details, or am I just to trust in your promises of salvation?’
‘I think you can guess the answer to that by now.’
‘I won’t press you then. I know that you prefer the mystery of silence. But let me simply point out that although you may be able to preserve my time and rescue my soul, the one thing you’re not going to be able to save is money. It’s your round.’
‘I will be happy to oblige.’
‘In this case the wages of sin is not death but another pint.’
‘I think I can bear that purgatory, Geordie.’
‘Purgatory? With me? You don’t know you’re born, man.’
‘“’Tis virtue, and not birth that makes us noble: great actions speak great minds, and such should govern.” I’m on my way.’
Sidney put his order in at the bar. He was just about to pay when Helena Randall arrived. ‘I’ll get these,’ she said.
‘Where’s Malcolm?’
‘At home. I thought I’d surprise you. It’s a Thursday night. It’ll be like old times: just the three of us.’
‘Has your mother gone home?’
‘She has indeed.’
‘She’s with Alexander. I think he’s about to be dispatched.’
‘And why would that be?’
‘You know perfectly well, Sidney Chambers. I can read between the lines and so can Olivia. But don’t worry; your sleuthing is safe with us. I should thank you.’
‘Yes, you probably should.’
‘Then I will.’ Helena leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. ‘I knew you’d turn up trumps.’
‘Officially, of course, I have done nothing.’
‘Yes, and it is probably best if it stays that way.’
‘Don’t worry. I won’t tell.’
‘Not even Geordie?’
‘Mum’s the word.’
‘No,’ said Helena, ‘it most definitely is not. Thank God she’s left. Now where is that man? Time for a final flirt!’
She winked at Sidney, picked up a pint glass and blew the inspector a slow-motion kiss.