By Phil Rickman
The Bridkirk Bogman used to be stated to be a thrilling archaeological locate - a Celtic warrior preserved in peat. but if the buzz has died down, anxiousness seeps in. ailment moves, redundancy, vandalism and housebreaking disturb the evening, and consistently there's the odor of marsh gasoline.
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Extra resources for The Man in the Moss
Example text
Twisted it, the stick. Thus tightening the sinew around his ... that is, fragments of the cord have been found actually embedded. ' Ma Wagstaff didn't react like a normal old woman. Didn't recoil or even wince. ' she said. ' said Ernie. ' Ernie went cold. How could she know there was more to it? He looked over her head at the bloodied sky. 'Well, seems they ... ' His throat was suddenly dry. He'd read this report four times, quite dispassionately at first and then with a growing excitement. But an academic excitement.
You owe him nothing. She stopped searching his eyes, didn't want to know what they might have to tell her about Matt Castle, the kindly father figure, that Matt Castle who'd said, Take your chance, grab it while you can, lass. Never mind us. We're owd men. Dumbly, Moira laid the guitar case on the pavement in the snow and - hands shaking with the cold and the nerves - flipped up the chromium catch. It was like opening someone's coffin. Only the guitar lay in state. In a panic, she felt beneath the machine-heads for the velvet pouch which held the ancient metal comb.
Moira had her guitar in her arms. ' 'You're in good company,' Matt said. ' 'Yeah, well,' Matt said. ' So damned nonchalant about it. He seemed so determined she shouldn't feel bad that she felt a sight worse. ' 'Was a grand gig,' Moira said. Good enough, she thought, heartsick, to be the start of something, not the end. Least her throat wasn't hurting so bad. The guitar case was warm in her arms. The snowflakes began to suck and cluster on the side windows as Matt drove first to Eric's house at Ashton Under Lyne, where Willie had left his Minivan.