Chapter Text
Ben Jones had a collection of modest but well-fitting suits he liked to wear to work. Today he was wearing his third best grey suit but it was still much nicer than the brown suit he wore when he hadn’t managed to get round to see Steve, his local dry cleaner .
Gail hated his Brown suit.
The drive from Benson into Causton was a pleasant 12 minute jaunt through rolling Midsomer hills. As Ben passed some black cows the town slowly slid into view, in a pell-mell fashion . He stopped by the cafe he knew Tom liked. Or, more accurately , the one Tom liked and Joyce hated.
A latte for Gail, flat white for himself and black for Tom. It was burned into his brain. He also picked up three danishes on his way out. Ben had learnt that if he arrived at the station at 7:55 armed with breakfast the rest of his day went much smoother.
Causton Police Station, like its High Street and Comprehensive, was slightly nicer than average but still mundane and underfunded . He parked his car in the usual spot, noting with pride that he had beaten his boss into work, and walked through the doors .
“Morning Luce.”
“Morning Ben.”
“Anything?”
“On your desk.”
“Cheers.”
This was one of their two daily conversations, the contents of which rarely changed. Sometimes it was quiet and Lucy had nothing for him. Sometimes she was on the phone. Occasionally it was the other girl who worked behind the desk, the weekend part-timer. Ben thought she might be called Carol. As he walked into the office, Gail appeared, suited and booted.
Gail jogged into work. Ben privately thought this was showing off.
“You wear that skirt for my benefit Gail?”
“That’s DS Stephens to you” she retorted.
“I’m still senior to you and don't forget it. Coffee DS?”
Seeing Gail always brought a smile to his face. They were not quite together and not quite friends either. Both of them were enjoying the easy, flirty banter of their slow forming relationship.
“If I may interrupt you both when you’re so hard at work, I've had a call out from Emmerdale.”
Ben turned round to see DCI Barnaby, briefcase in hand, strolling through the door. The only indication that gave away his amusement was a slight twinkle in his eye.
Seeing Ben’s look he smiled. “Not the Dingles this time I don’t think Jones. Teenagers probably . Somebody has been breaking into and lurking around Burden Head Farm. It can’t be Dingle related because it’s practically on their land.”
“Sir, do you mean they’ve been getting access via the disused road just after the Dingles shack heading into the village ?”
“That’s the one Stephens.”
“But sir, it's totally overgrown. That farm isn’t used anymore. The lands rented out from some rich landowner in Oxford or Cambridge. There’s nothing there.”
“Quite right Jones. So why lurk there?
******
Sophie Jones had a good job. She had a boyfriend who knew which cereal she liked and the films she pretended to hate but secretly adored. She had parents who were supportive without being cloying. People liked her. As far as Sophie was concerned she had Made It. in her head that phrase was always capitalised.
Her biggest downfall was gossip. She lived in a gorgeous cul-de-sac nestled in the suburb-cum-village of Brightwell. Every Friday night she could be found down the Lion with Shirl, Marina, Stacey and, occasionally , Lorna . Same table, same topic of conversation.
Who’s been caught in whose bed. Who had the dodgiest haircut last week. By far her favourite moment was when last drinks had been called and the girls asked if she knew any more about Robert .
It had started in May when she’d dropped a comment about the gorgeous bloke at work who was ‘ probably a serial killer.’
Lorna, who was currently off with Darren not on, had asked about him. In December 2014, around Christmas time, Michael McLaren had quit his job as head of fundraising . His partner had just come off maternity leave and he decided to become a stay at home dad.
Assisi, Causton’s largest pet shelter, decided to wait until the new year to begin the hiring process. They’d struggled. The salary wasn’t enough and the town wasn’t a nice upmarket affair. It was a classic country town but Charles the 2nd had never stayed there. John Constable had pained fuck all there. They had nothing really and the local talent wasn’t up to much. Sophie remembers what happened next vividly. It was a freezing cold February morning and a white sports car, worth as much as her house, rolled up to the building. A tall blonde man in a suit she knew you could only buy down that London got out and locked his car.
He walked in, as if he owned the place, everyone and everything in it. He turned to Sophie and asked for a Mrs. MacDougal. Sally.
Shit.
Sophie never called Sally down. The Scotswoman could turn you to stone with a look. Nobody had ever asked for their head of Human Resources in person yet. She rang the extension she prayed she’d never have to and said, “Sally we’ve got a visitor for you, a Mr…
“Sugden. I’m Robert Sugden.”
Robert Sugden was extremely fuckable thought Sophie unprofessionally.
Yes okay Sally.” She looked back at the fancy visitor. “Mrs. MacDougal will be down shortly.”
Sally stepped into the foyer, brushing iron grey ringlets from her forehead as she passed Sophie .
“Mr. Sugden. I received your portfolio this morning. Thank you for sending it through. Let’s have a chat in my office.”
The next day the mysterious Sugden arrived at 7:45 and left at 4:45. And he did the same the day afterwards. And every day since.
When Sophie was explaining her story to the girls they were curious. This Sugden bloke had piqued their curiosity. Sophie had of course had a nose around his desk. On it were three things. A small cactus, a little fluffy dog and a medium sized photograph in a sleek chrome frame. The cactus held no clues. The fluffy dog looked like Robert had won it at a carnival. The photo, however, had three people in it. A tiny, petite, blonde girl surrounded on either side by two big bearded men. Facebook and Twitter searches had given her nothing. The girls at the Lion had only been able to provide her with wild, drunken speculation.
She wondered who Robert Suden was at her monthly family meals. She pondered about why a man with such an expensive motor would want to work in Causton for less than 40k a year.
In February Robert Sugden had blown into her life upon a whirlwind of arrogance and mystery. Six months later and she still had no clue who he was.
***
Andy Sugden was sweating. The sweltering heat that reverberated around the fading days of August were making him feel faint. He and Sam Dingle were running the Home Farm estate on the ground. Quite literally . They might both report to Lawrence but he knew enough to let them have dominion over the land. Well as much as one could have dominion over the land.
Andy checked his watch and swore. He had half an hour to pick Lachlan up from rugby training. He jogged up to Home Farm. He always lost track of time when he was on the land. Maybe it’s because he felt a connection to his forefathers. It might even be that knowing you’re good at something gives you great self belief, whatever that thing may be.
Freshly showered and washed he jumped in one of Home Farm’s Land Rovers. His phone connected automatically and began blasting out Blondie. He was glad Chrissie wasn’t with him; she found his taste in music hilarious for some reason.
His dashboard flashed at him. Emblazoned upon the screen were the words 'Vicsis calling'. He smiled and took the phone call.“Yes Vic what is it?’
“Andy you promised.”
“I know and I said I’d be there.”
“You said yous were mates. It’s her birthday drinks at the Woolie this Friday.”
“Stop hassling me Vic. I’ll be there. Have you heard from Rob at all?”
A pause. It’s genuine. Andy might hate Robert's guts but Vic still loves him. “No. You know what Rob’s like. He’ll probably swan in with some gorgeous wife on his arm in five years time and act like nothing happened.”
“Or a bloke.” Andy turns left as Vic hums in agreement.
“What are you up to tonight”
“Picking Lachlan up from rugby. He and Gerry will be hungry so I'll stop by for some burgers or summat.”
“You're too good to those boys Andy. I’m dead proud”
“Vic you know why.”
“Yeah I do.”
“Right, I'm turning into the fields now Vic.”
Vic hangs up with a warm goodbye. Andy looks up and spies Lachlan laughing at Gerry. Andy laughs too; Gerry is trying to drink from a hose.
“Come on boys!”
The boys pile in and Andy turns round and drives back. He’ll pick up Jack and Sarah before getting to the Woolie. He didn't think he’d ever be comfortable with such a big family dinner but he’s found the weekly after rugby dinners to be a highlight of his week .
***
Adam Barton tears the final door off an old beige Rover and then stretches until his back pops. His partner, Aaron Dingle, steps out of the office with two cups of tea and a face on.
“What’s up mate?”
“Just stuck Robert’s percentage into whatever bank account he’s using these days. Only that prick could screw up a whole village in four months.”
“Don’t let Vic hear you say that. You even mention his name in our house and she makes a face like a horse eating a lemon.” Aaron grunts in response and checks his watch. He looks around. It's been a hot sweaty day and they’re ahead on paperwork and they have no more deliveries until Sunday. It doesn’t take much for Aaron to convince Adam they should knock off early and head for a cold pint.
Aaron sees Andy in the corner with his usual ragtag bunch. Charity is behind the bar. Adam takes over their usual garden bench and waits for his partner to return. Adam hopes Vic can get away for five minutes. He sometimes wonders, idly, why he and Vic have such shit brothers. He wonders who’s had more chances thrown their way, Robert or Ross. He’ll never know the answer to this because it isn’t a question he can ever ask Vic. His thoughts are interrupted when a chip hits his face.
“Oi fuck off”
“What’re you thinking about?”
“If it’s still too late for you and me babe?” Adam says this last one at the same time as he grabs Aaron’s thigh. It doesn’t make Aaron laugh.“Seriously mate, when are you gonna get back out there. It's been ages since you got with anyone. What if your virginity grows back?”
“I'm fine. You sound like my mum n’all.” Vic interrupts their joshing by placing herself down next to Adam and winking at Aaron. This, Adam thinks to himself, is where he belongs.
***
Katherine Sugden, better known as Katie Addyman, rides a bone-white horse through hills of carved green and craggy, rocky, brown . She knows these hills, farms, dales, streams and houses as well as anyone. It would be her subject on Mastermind.
Katie’s destination rises out of the ground. It’s one of her favourite apparitions. It’s Wiley’s. She’s been slowly paying it off. She and Ryan have completed two barns, and three outbuildings. They even have a room finished downstairs in the farmhouse.
It was a strange coincidence, running into Ryan again after all these years, but he’d been there for her as her marriage crumbled . In a world where Robert Sugden was gay anything could happen she supposed.
The eight months she’d been with Ryan , slowly rebuilding what they’d had, Katie had thoroughly enjoyed. After Andy it was the perfect no pressure easy going relationship she’d needed.
Katie dismounted and tied up her horse. Snowflake whinnied at her softly. A warning unheeded. She unlocked the front door, walked up the stairs and looked around. She didn’t come up here often but she liked to check it was still here. Her very own place. A man she thought she might love. She walked up the dusty stairs, which creaked out a greeting in response. The silence pressed in around her. She shivered and not because of the cold.
When Katie would reflect back on her life she’d think of all the bad luck she’d endured. The whole Andy-Robert-Andy fiasco still caused her guilt and hot, angry regret all these years later . Falling down an actual mineshaft. Her miscarriage. Her brother surviving cancer in his thirties.
The unluckiest thing that ever happened to Katherine Sugden, however , was not burning breakfast or falling down a mineshaft . It wasn’t dating Robert either. She was betrayed by the corner of her eye. She saw something. Or thought she did. She was on her way down the stairs when the corner of something alien appeared in her peripheral.
She stepped once up the stairs and once again. She stood at the top and looked across. Lying on the floor in a small room, furthest from the stairs, was a Tesco bag. Something lay inside it. She did the natural thing and walked towards it.
Step. Creak.
Step. Creak.
Step. Creak.
Step. Creak.
Step. Crea--CRACK.
This was the unluckiest moment in Katie's life. The floorboards went and so did Katie.