CHAPTER 2
“Good Morning John, you really should finish earlier you know starting half an hour before everyone else and finishing the same time every day.”
“I don’t really mind, gives me some time to do some paperwork before the rift raft get here” Both start laughing at this comment.
PCSO John Friend has been in the office for over 30 minutes, one of the disadvantages of living so far away from Harvington Police Station was the traffic and time he had to leave in the mornings to ensure arriving on time.
Once the joke had been shared and died down, John informed Sergeant Goodwin of the messages on the answer machine.
“Sarge, there’s been another spate at the allotments. Mr Hollingsworth has called and stated more dens have appeared overnight.”
With the warmer weather and lighter nights coming, local kids are going back to the local hang outs for some non adult fun. It had been an ongoing problem for years, even back then nothing could really be done except patrols and hope to catch some of them but it only deters for a period of time and moves them somewhere else.
“John, first port of call then, I think is the allotments. Give Hollingsworth a call to arrange something. Then concentrate on the other things.” Sergeant Goodwin knew that there wasn’t much that could be done but neighbourhood policing is about reassurance and hi-visibility.
As the rest of the team spilled in, the noise levels increased and the younger members started to mess about. John was now 52 and was looking towards his retirement; he had his fun in his youth but now wanted a quiet life. He joined in sometimes but at 8am, there were more appropriate things to talk about.
PCSO Friend decided this was good to leave as the small office gets cramped very quickly when everyone’s in.
As the summer months have started to come, the warmer weather trying to work its way in but so far being unsuccessful and the April showers are still coming through. The light breeze causing the shimmering of the pool of rainwater fresh from this morning shower.
Harvington High Street is an eclectic mixture of buildings; Harvington has held a village status for over 100 years and the buildings that won that title still stand now mixed in with the new builds. Walking from the High Street based station, the early morning traffic has just started to rise from their dwellings on their way to work, the constant squealing of brakes, revving of the engines and the hum of speeding vehicles as their pass. Pedestrian commuters are also more evident as the minutes pass, the people who walk together to their destination feel the urge to talk loudly even though they are walking close by. People waiting for the local buses into Birmingham City increase as the journey along the High Street progresses, the more residential properties at this end the reason for more commuting traffic. A brisk early morning breeze swirls up the wind tunnel that is the High Street, the clear blue sky only broken by a few wispy clouds. A gentle stroll to the allotments from the High Street is not even 5 minutes as John walks off the concrete dominated main road, taking the first available exit off the High Street on Harvington Close it is quickly apparent why Harvington has a village title as the traffic roar descend into the background, the oak trees that were planted along with the building of the houses lining the street marks the beauty of the village. The three tier Victorian terraces are present either side of the Close, all similar in stature and appearance, the only difference is the outer finish and the garden preferences. None of the houses have made their limited green space into driveways as the cars line the street, parking almost bumper to bumper when the residents are all at home, all the way along the roads of Harvington. Parking is the biggest problem in the village itself no matter the road in Harvington as the narrow streets were no designed to hold all the vehicles people now have. Harvington Close runs for about 100 yards from the High Street at this point it is broken by the triangular grassed area before continuing across the road with the rest of the Close. A solitary bare oak tree stands proud in the triangular patch of grass; the towering beast has been tamed by the lack of protection. Old braches have been snapped by the weather and less conventional methods of the many children that have attempted to conquer the oak tree, this gives the tree a very rugged appearance and if it was not so treasured in the area probably would have been cut down like many others. Open space entwined with the freedom of thoughts makes the whole journey worthwhile.
Crossing over Station Road, which as the name suggests like many others with the same name once held the local train line or was connected to the railway. Directly on the left the row of terraces is dominated by the corner house, which once stood as the rail masters house that has now been made into business premises each floor of the house occupied by offices. After another 10 terraces on each side, the rest of the Close almost matching the previous section of the road except for the lack of trees lining the pavement, these removed due to the damage to the brickwork patterning. The close comes to its end, where the tall iron gates stand for the entrance to Henley’s Scrap yard. The cul-de-sac of Harvington Close at its end, just to the side of the metal railings the wooden fencing made up of two vertical stakes crossed by the three horizontal planks equally space up the batons which leads to a pathway which runs adjacent to the outer perimeter fence, this guarded by a stile and kissing gate. Upon entering the pathway, PCSO Friend had now entered the ‘Walkway’ as it is locally known, a 3 mile stretch of path through an old disused forest area, the end of the walkway is the local park of Summer Park
Harvington Allotments were very lucky to have the grounds that they have, the walkway after half a mile leads into a side gateway for the plots. The allotments consisting of the orchard, nature reserve and 60 plots, all these areas have trouble due to the vast land that it covers and adjoining the other side of the walkway is the marshland but this is covered first by steep drop from the walkway to the dense forest floor before reaching the open land of the marsh.
As John approached the gates to the allotment, he could not help hearing the quiet discussion being had in the pavilion just the other side. Catching the words “useless, lack of protection” John knew what the mood would be like before he reached the group of plot holders. He had been dealing with the Harvington Allotments holders for two years they wanted the thefts, damage and kids playing up stopped but like everything John visited he had what he felt were excuses. Excuses that he will continue patrols look at alternative ways to protect but he knew that at the end of the day there were bigger priorities and that he was the only one that cared, one that was interested as he could sympathise as he had a plot himself.
Bracing himself with a deep sigh, he approached and in a manner of authority made himself known to the members, “Good Morning, let’s have a look at the damage.”
Following the shadows of the fern trees lining the pathway from the front gate to the rear fencing which in turn back onto a public footpath known to locals as The Walkway. As the group of committee members were present etching closer to the walkway, the trees lining the two boundaries grew thicker with Ash and birch trees with an ancient and well rotted evergreens that were not part of the allotment but council who owned the walkway and the allotments not they had done something as of yet.
“This morning, I found the hideaway and subsequently passed it twice as the little toe rags have used the piles of wood off my allotment and did not initially realise the significance.”
The dens that had been created utilises the available materials, the wood and they made what looked almost like a tepee leaning wood against the trees and inside the logs were placed in a circle.
“Thank you, Mr Hollingsworth. It looks like they had a bit of a party.”
There was beer cans, smoked cigarettes, cigarette papers and small plastic Ziploc bags that must have been used to carry the drugs insisted the committee.
There was a sudden scream from nearby unable to first locate the direction of the noise, everyone was a bit confused then when it came again, it was obvious the scream was from the other side of the walkway
as it seemed close but not from the allotments.
John did not want to miss an opportunity and quickly mounted the makeshift den that gave just enough leverage to jump the metal fencing onto the walkway. Landing awkwardly to begin with he adjusted, stepping across the mud bank and onto the walkway which consisted of 5 foot of bark chippings he came to the steep embankment luckily for John there was a passage to the bottom level with the help of the trees to drip onto either side, slowly allowing himself to slide down the loose ground, using the trunks and the exposed roots as he moved down. Staying on his feet for the whole descent, he stepped carefully off the angled ground and onto the flat and started into a run to meet the high metal railing around the compound; John spotted the female crying inside the scrap yard. Breaking into a run for the rest of the railings, he arrived at the entrance which was left open. When he arrived at the unit, he initially saw another den next to the building but it was inside the unit the woman was screaming at. All the doors were open from the main door through to the inner doors to the large open hall. Inside John had a clear view of the person hanging from the ceiling, gently swaying as the breeze past through.
“Foxtrot 92, control. I have found a deceased female on Henley’s Scrap yard, Harvington Close.”
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