REGINALD HILL
A CURE FOR ALL DISEASES
A Dalziel and Pascoe novel
in six volumes
Copyright
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authors imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
Harper An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London SE1 9GF
www.harpercollins.co.uk
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2008
Copyright © Reginald Hill 2008
Reginald Hill asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
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Source ISBN: 9780007252695
Ebook edition © JULY 2015 ISBN: 9780007292738
Version: 2018-06-27
Dedication
To Janeites everywhere
Epigraph
and in particular to those who ten years ago in San Francisco made me so very welcome at the Jane Austen Society of North Americas AGM, of which the theme was Sanditon a new direction?, and during which the seeds of this present novel were sown. I hope that my fellow Janeites will approve the direction in which I have moved her unfinished story; or, if they hesitate approval, that they will perhaps recall the advice printed on a sweat shirt presented to me (with what pertinence I never quite grasped) after my talk to the AGM
run mad as often as you chuse, but do not faint
and at least agree that though in places I may have run a little mad, so far I have not fainted!
The Sea air & Sea Bathing together were nearly infallible, one or the other of them being a match for every Disorder, of the Stomach, the Lungs or the Blood; They were anti-spasmodic, anti-pulmonary, anti-sceptic, anti-bilious & anti-rheumatic. Nobody could catch cold by the Sea, Nobody wanted appetite by the Sea, Nobody wanted Spirits, Nobody wanted strength. They were healing, softening, relaxing fortifying & bracing seemingly just as was wanted sometimes one, sometimes the other.
Jane Austen, Sanditon
Then Sir Bedivere cried: Ah my lord Arthur, what shall become of me, now ye go from me and leave me here alone among mine enemies? Comfort thyself, said the king, and do as well as thou mayst, for in me is no trust to trust in; for I will into the vale of Avilion to heal me of my grievous wound: and if thou hear never more of me, pray for my soul.
Sir Thomas Malory, Le Morte dArthur
We all labour against our own cure, for death is the cure of all diseases.
Sir Thomas Browne, Religio Medici
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Epigraph
Volume the First
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Volume the Second
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Volume the Third
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Volume the Fourth
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Volume the Fifth
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Volume the Sixth
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
About the Author
By the Same Author
About the Publisher
Volume the First
Every Neighbourhood should have a great Lady.
1
FROM: charley@whiffle.com TO: cassie@natterjack.com SUBJECT: cracked jugs daft buggers & tank trapsHi Cass!
Hows things in darkest Africa? Wierd & wonderful I bet but not so w&w as what weve got here at Willingden Farm. Go on guess! OK give up?
House-guests!
& I dont mean awful Uncle Ernie on one of his famous surprise visits. These are strangers!
What happened at last after our awful wet summer Augusts turned hot not African hot but pretty steamy by Yorkshire standards. Dad & George were working up in Mill Meadow. Mum asked if Id take them a jug of lemon barley said it would please dad if I showed willing. Weve been in armed truce since I made it clear my plans hadnt changed ie do a postgrad thesis instead of getting a paid job or better still a wellpaid husband & settling down! But no reason not to show willing plus it gave me an excuse to drive the quad so off I went.
Forgot the mugs but dad didnt say anything just drank straight out of the jug like he preferred it so maybe mum was right & he was pleased. In fact we were having a pleasant chat when suddenly old Fang let out a growl. Lost half his teeth & cant keep up with the sheep any more but still manages a grand growl. Dad looked round to see what had woken him & his face went into Headbanger configuration.
whats yon daft bugger playing at? he demanded.
Youll recall that in dads demography anyone living outside Willingden parish is a daft bugger till proved innocent. In this case I half agreed with him.
The DB in question was driving his car fast up the lane alongside Mill Meadow. How he got through the gate I dont know. The HB had to take his chain & lock off after the Ramblers took him to court last year but hes fixed a catch like one of them old metal puzzles we used to play with as kids. Maybe the DB just got lucky he thought!
He was driving one of these new hybrid 4×4s you know conscience without inconvenience! & when he saw how good the surface was (tractor tyres dont grow on trees! remember?) he mustve thought great! now for a bit of safe off-roading.
What he didnt reckon on was what George calls dads tank trap the drainage ditch where the lane bends beyond the top gate & steepens up to the mill ruin.
New tourist map came out last year with water mill marked no mention of ruin. Result a lot of DBs decided this meant Heritage Centre guided tours & cream teas! After losing out to the Ramblers dad was forced to accept bearded wierdies trekking across his empire but the sight of cars crawling up his lane drove him crazy. So one day he got to work with the digger & when hed finished the drainage ditch extended across the lane a muddy hollow a hippo could wallow in the tank trap!
Most drivers flee at the sight of it but this DB obviously thought his hybrid could ford rivers & climb Alps & just kept going.
Bad decision.
For 30 secs the wheels sent out glutinous brown jets like a cow with colic then the car slipped slowly sideways finishing at 45 degrees driver side down.