Dancing With the Virgins. Stephen Booth

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       6

      The kitchen was the room the Coopers used most at Bridge End Farm. It had that familiar lived-in look which was inevitable with six people in the house, two of them children. Though Ben Cooper still lived at the farm, he had begun to find himself spending less and less time in the company of his brother and his family. He wasn’t sure why this was, when his mother was still upstairs and in need of his support.

      Matt had already been driven indoors by the darkness that was steadily drawing in now. He sat at the kitchen table with Farmers Weekly, reading articles predicting more gloom for the farming industry. In the sitting room, Matt’s wife Kate and their daughters were watching cartoons on the TV.

      ‘We’ll be visiting Dad’s grave next week,’ said Cooper. ‘It’s the anniversary.’

      ‘As if I would forget,’ said Matt.

      Matt turned the page of his magazine, but he no longer seemed to be focusing on the words. ‘Don’t say anything to Mum,’ he said. ‘You know it only upsets her. Now she’s stable, it would be nice if we could keep it like that for a while, rather than causing another episode like the last one. It’s not fair on the girls.’

      ‘We can’t just say nothing,’ said Cooper. ‘She’d be devastated if she knew we’d been to the cemetery without her.’

      ‘But if she really hasn’t remembered? Do we risk starting her off again? She’s been doing so well recently. It could set her back months, going over it all again, just because it’s the anniversary. It would be a kindness to let her forget.’

      ‘I don’t think it’s honest,’ said Cooper.

      ‘Some things are best not remembered. With luck, her memory will let her down.’

      ‘So schizophrenia can be a blessing. That’s nice to know.’

      ‘I didn’t mean that, and you know it.’ Matt put down the Farmers Weekly wearily and rubbed his face. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just –’ He shrugged. ‘There’s no end to it, is there?’

      The brothers didn’t need to say any more to each other. It had all been said before, many times.

      Kate looked in from the sitting room, releasing a burst of cartoon noise as she opened the door. Matt picked up his magazine again. Cooper had a book on the shelf that he was halfway through reading – Captain Corelli’s Mandolin. He always seemed to be years behind what everybody else was talking about. There was so little time to read. And often, like now, he couldn’t concentrate on what was in front of him.

      ‘Matt, do you know a farmer called Warren Leach?’

      ‘Leach? Leach … Where does he farm?’

      ‘Ringham Edge.’

      Matt frowned over his pages. ‘I’ve heard of him. I don’t think I’ve ever met him to speak to. Dark-haired bloke, miserable sort?’

      ‘That sounds like him.’

      ‘What’s he done?’

      ‘Nothing that I know of. I just came across him on an enquiry.’

      ‘Ringham Edge. Small dairy herd, is it? And a lot of marginal land?’

      ‘Yes.’

      Matt nodded and went back to his magazine. He turned a page, but found nothing he liked any better.

      ‘You know, some of them are in deep trouble,’ he said.

      ‘Who?’

      ‘Farmers like Leach at Ringham Edge. Small-scale livestock farmers, with no chance of diversification. But he’s only one of many, of course.’

      ‘Things looked pretty depressing up there, I must admit.’

      ‘It’s all pretty depressing. All of it.’

      ‘Come on, Matt. It’s not that bad.’

      ‘Yes, it is. It’s all gone to hell. I can’t see the time when farming will ever be the same again. Not around here, anyway. All the small farmers are going out of business. It’s too much for them. Far too much.’

      ‘Have you heard anything specific about Leach?’

      Matt shook his head firmly. ‘I said I’ve seen him, that’s all. I don’t actually know him.’

      ‘But I expect you might know people who do.’

      ‘I expect I might,’ said Matt.

      ‘There could be rumours about him. Farmers talk to each other, don’t they? Down at the mart.’

      Matt’s face set into stubborn lines. ‘Are you asking me to find out things about this bloke Leach?’

      ‘Just … I wondered if you might hear anything, you know. If you did …’

      ‘Sorry, Ben.’

      ‘What?’

      ‘I mean, no, I won’t do it. I don’t much like being asked to be some sort of secret policeman. I don’t like being asked to be a policeman at all, come to that. You’re welcome to that job.’

      Kate stood in the doorway. She frowned at Ben and shook her head, scenting an argument between the brothers. She said arguments upset the children. And she was right to be protective – there had been enough disruption in their young lives.