Morag Higgins
Hi, I'm Morag Higgins, thank you for taking the time to read my page. I write articles for equestrian magazines and equestrian training books but my real passion is for SciFi and Horror, I absolutely love it, I am a proud Dr Who fanatic (have been all my life and yes I can remember the very first Doctor!!). I am very proud of my book Eye of the Unicorn and yes there are three more in the series (my publisher has them at the moment). I have recently written my first Sci Fi/Horror and Horror which are also with my editor at the moment.
I am so pleased you have taken the time to read this and hope we can chat soon!
You can see some of our work at the website www.scottishhorsehelp.co.uk
I have several published books out at the moment:-
Bruja -
This is the true story of a life shared and a relationship formed over twenty years, between Morag Higgins and her companion, a horse called Bruja. At times humorous, often deeply emotional but overall one woman's story of a lifelong bond between her and a horse from which she learned so much. Morag has been riding for over thirty five years and teaching for almost three decades. She has had the privilege to have known and worked with many, many horses in her career having participated in several disciplines such as jumping, dressage, one day eventing, showing and western riding. In 'Bruja' Morag encapsulates the life of one horse and its profoundly moving effect on all who knew her.
Equido Horsemanship For the 21st Century -
Equido is a way of living with horses, a way which influences every single thing we do with our equine companions, right from the moment we step into their world, be it mucking out, making feeds, leading, grooming rugging etc, it is not just about when we sit on their backs and expect them to obey.
Equido teaches us how to have feel for everything you do with the horse, it is about the big picture, the whole picture. We know that a horse that is not cared for or handled properly will not be in a good or happy state of mind and this in turn will affect their performance when being ridden.
Through the pages of this book we will give you an insight into Equido, horsemanship for the 21st century.
Equido The Path of Least Resistance -
The primary reason for the development of Equido® was to educate people from basic to advanced horsemanship in a method that is sympathetic to the horse’s needs. Equido® been accredited by LANTRA for 10 years and in that time there have been well over 500 students who have studied the system. The premise for writing this book was to show people another viewpoint in working with horses.
You will see in this book vets, farriers, bodyworkers and trainers going about their day to day work as a result some of the pictures you will see show horses coming in from the field who may not have been groomed or photo shopped. What we wanted to show in this book was an honest representation of the day to day work carried out on a yard. We also wanted to show that it is not just the trainer that is involved with the horse but it is a team of very skilful equestrian professionals.
We hope that in reading this book you find something that is beneficial not only to your horse but to yourself and perhaps this will start you down the path of least resistance.
The Good Children
A heart-warming and emotional story of two very special dogs Tag and Tess as told through their eyes. This is suitable for all ages.
Poppy Pinto Plays Peek-a-Boo
Poppy Pinto Plays Peek-a-Boo is the first in a series of wonderful stories about a beautiful horse and all her friends. Poppy is on a quest to learn how to play peek-a-boo. From ages 3 upwards this will appeal to all children, especially animal lovers and is the perfect read along story for parents and children.
The Eye of The Unicorn -
On a dying planet two species complete for survival. The San, a people who have been divided into tribes through war bigotry and hate, their population devastated by a mysterious illness. Their rivals, the Cuc, a hive species who declare all out war on the San.
Born into this world are twin sons of the Chieftain of the Warrior Clan of the Chai, Remruc and Curmer. After the death of their father, they are burdened with the task of saving their people. Together they formulate a radical plan which could untie the divided clans.
Taking advantage of the race weakened by illness and held together by very tenuous bonds, the Cuc, a formidable enemy of the San take them to the very brink of destruction. When all seems lost a secret is uncovered, a secret that may secure the safety of their people but a secret that has a darker side and a high price will be paid for survival.
A fast-paced action packed adventure that will keep you turning the pages to find the answers and leave you breathless as the legend of Remruc and Curmer unfolds.
All of the above are currently available from all major on line stores. Books due for release this summer are:-
The Eye of the Unicorn - The Price of Paradise -
The next instalment in the Eye of the Unicorn series is as fast paced and action packed as the first. This continuation of the story of Remruc and Curmer, the twin chieftains of the alien race called the San, will leave you breathless and eager for more. As the plot unfolds deep dark truths are discovered and universe changing decisions made.
The Idor, builders of the gateway discovered on the San world have a deadly secret. Now that the San have become uninvited guests on their world, the Idor see an opportunity that may give them the upper hand in a dangerous game they are playing. Curmer, trying to convince the Idor to allow his people to stay inadvertently ties the San forever to their purpose. It may be a decision he will live to regret. What is the secret of the Idor, what will Remruc and Curmer’s people have to do for sanctuary on this world, what will be the true price of paradise.
The Eye of the Unicorn - The Grieving God
The third book of the Eye of The Unicorn series continues the story of the Elidorsan and the children of Remruc and Curmer. After centuries of peace and harmony the Elidorsan begin to notice that fewer of the ordinary San citizens are being selected by the Idor to join their elite immortal ranks.
Mora is pregnant with her first child and does not find maternal instincts come naturally. Her child has immense power and his existence was predicted by the Idor centuries before, he has a very important role to play and the Idor are concerned that Mora’s coldness will turn the child onto the wrong path before he had been born. Making a radical decision they remove him from Mora before he is born and raise him in the city of the Idor, training his advanced mind in preparation for his tasks in life, returning him in secret to be raised by a surrogate Elidorsan family out with Mora’s influence.
As time passes Shosten, Remruc’s grandson senses a deep unrest amongst the San of the city of Nemn. As he investigates he is shocked at the changes in the ordinary people, their characters flawed and arrogant as they no longer revere the Elidorsan. Knowing the Idor will not tolerate such behaviour he tries to find the root of the problems and encounters the twisted despot heir to the Chieftain’s throne behind an insidious plot. The Elidorsan Duren who is stationed as a liaison officer in the city has been preoccupied with protecting the aged Chieftain against assassination plots and has been unable to warn Shoshten of the problems in the city. Events come to a head as the Chieftain is assassinated and Shoshten framed for the murder. The Idor demand that the San be banished from Idor and the Elidorsan forces find themselves fighting their own kind and forcing them from their world.
The Elidorsan High Chieftains Deyka and Mora appeal to the Idor who relent and allow those San loyal to the Elidorsan to live on a safe and guarded planet, allowed to grow and finally devolve as nature intended. Those guilty of treason and disloyalty are also guarded on a separate world, prevented from escape and left to their own devices and eventual extinction. Duren has fallen in love with a San girl and although he knows she will age and die he elects to accompany her to the saved San world where they live till her death. Duren is beside himself with grief and the love between them becomes a legend amongst the Saved San.
The Elidorsan extend their protection to all life in the universe, ensuring that civilisations are allowed to develop in peace and harmony and stepping in to address any imbalance. During a visit to the Saved San world Deyka and Mora encounter a strange being in a stolen alien craft. They question the Idor about this and the reaction shocks them. The Idor are afraid, there now begins a deadly search as a new evil encroaches on the universes, an evil that the Idor have been keeping a secret.
The Eye of the Unicorn - The Lost Child
The last in the Eye of The Unicorn Series finds Sara, the human child rescued by Duren, growing up on Idor as an Elidorsan. She is a vital link for the Elidorsan who are searching for Shoshten’s son Merkan as the creatures that attacked her people are the same species that caused the anomaly which drew Merkan’s ship into an unknown universe. They scour the different universes seeking any clues as to the whereabouts of the missing crew and unknown to them Cultok, the son of the High Chieftains of the Elidorsan Deyka and Mora had stowed away on Merkan’s ship when it went missing.
Merkan’s ship has been destroyed as they materialise into a fierce space battle above a blue planet. The attacking ships hovering above the planet are decimating the native forces and Merkan is forced to choose sides as the attackers turn their attention to the battered Elidorsan craft. They are supported by the native crafts but their ship is critically damaged and Merkan choses to destroy the master craft of the attackers by crashing into it. They transport themselves onto the planet but despite this only five of his crew survive the attack and are immediately emersed in a firefight assisting the natives of this world. Cultok has survived and as far as the Elidorsan know he is just the son of Lord Duren’s servants. The planet they are on is Earth and now they must forge an alliance with the humans of this world if they ever want to get back home.
This is a nail biting finale to the Eye of the Unicorn Series, Sara had no knowledge of humans or her home world and Cultok is now living on Earth. The enemies of the humans and Elidorsan are part of the dark secret that the Idor have been keeping and now all of the pathways are merging into a gripping explosive conclusion that will have you on the edge of your seat.
The Engineer -
Juggernaut 90, a deep space pleasure freighter on course for Colony Planet Echo One is six months into a two- and half-year journey. On board passengers and crew are in stasis leaving ships AI JOE 90 and David Bockerat engineer, the only active human crew member to deal with any breakdowns whilst in deep space.
David who is nearing retirement after years of service with the fleet finds himself dealing with an almost constant stream of minor breakdowns, a situation that he has never experienced before. To his surprise he found the personality program for the AI had not only been switched off by the previous engineer who had been on the ship for almost fifty years before his unexpected death, but the personality files were missing.
During one of his maintenance checks he stumbles upon the missing files for the AI and re-installs them, activating JOE 90 to full capacity. The AI seems to be very amenable and develops a good rapport with David. As the troubles escalate David’s intuition tells him that sinister forces are at work and becomes suspicious that JOE 90 is somehow involved. With no one to turn to other than the AI David feels trapped in a cat and mouse struggle with this unseen force.
After a shocking discovery deep in the bowls of the ship David realises his suspicions about JOE 90 were unfounded. However, all the new evidence he finds points to something far more sinister and horrific which has been released by the previous engineer Robert Wallen. David and JOE 90 are now locked in a life-or-death struggle with unknown supernatural forces that put the entire ship at risk. Will they managed to defeat their foe before it is too late?
The Engineer - Re-engineered
This is the second in the Sci/Fi horror series and continues the adventures of our heroes as they struggle to uncover the dark machinations of the horror they have been drawn into conflict with.
The Engineer - Reverse engineered
This is the third in the Sci/Fi horror series. Our intrepid heroes are deep into the twisted conspiracy to destroy their civilisation. They journey beyond their wildest imagination, fighting to bring about a prediction made by an ancient computer, face their worst fears and are forced to make heart rending choices .
The Neighbour
When Wendy and John purchase some land to fulfil their dreams of building a horse training facility they thought they had the perfect place. Little did they know that their neighbours had other ideas. At first the struggle to build their business which seemed to be plagued by delays, red-tape and strange occurrences were put down to the normal teething problems every new business faces. Eventually they realise they have the neighbours from hell living next door, plotting and scheming and making their lives as miserable as possible.
Events take a terrifying turn and both Wendy and John find themselves battling with supernatural forces hell bent on destroying them. Can they survive against the odds? Will they succeed or will the evil next door destroy everything in its path?
Who's in 242
When Gravediggers open up a supposedly empty lair, with ground that hasn’t been disturbed for over fifty years, they discover a skeleton buried in the plot. Suspecting a possible cold case murder Detective George Caldwell is brought in to investigate. Whilst waiting on reconstruction of the skull to attempt identification, the detective decides to take matters into his own hands and begins a solo undercover investigation in the tiny village of Springnoll. As he delves deeper into the ancient mysteries surrounding the village he uncovers a shocking secret, a secret that brings to life horrific repercussions in this world and the world of the supernatural.
The Lock-up
Edgar Hydeford, a once popular but now struggling artist, shares a lockup with an obnoxious and dangerous bully, Henry. Edgar’s life is on the skids and he is desperate for a chance to break back into the art scene, however, his co-habitant of the studio lockup seems hell bent on destroying any chance of Edgar achieving the heights of his previous success.
Angela Worthing , a well-known art dealer with a string of artists and galleries in several towns, appears at the lockup looking for new talent and is delighted with the samples Edgar shows her. Just as life seems to be on the up, Henry puts into motion a series of violent and horrific events that will destroy Edgar’s life forever.
In a desperate struggle for survival Edgar searches for a way out of his horrific situation and in a final shocking twist we uncover the unbelievable truth about Edgar and Henry’s relationship
CHAPTER ONE
Dark red ichor wept from the fatal wound as the chainsaw blade bit deep, slicing its way through its victim. With a final groan the young yew tree toppled and fell, the scent of pine needles filling the air. Jock Earnshaw flicked the machine off, raising his visor and viewing the carnage with sad eyes. The dark red of exposed heartwood of the trunk contrasted with almost white sapwood, like blood on white skin.
He hated cutting down trees but sadly that was part of his job as grounds man and gravedigger for the small local cemetery of Springnoll. A village nestled in a valley, tucked away amongst rich pasturelands that were brooded over by the dark and ominous Lead Hills of Southern Scotland.
Jock took out his worn pipe from the top pocket of his overalls and made his way slowly to a mini-digger crouching on the pathway. He took a moment to catch his breath and admire the view. Skylarks filled the air with their songs as they competed for territory across the rolling fields. Droning bumblebees laboured through the wildflowers that adorned the verges of the single-track road that led past the ancient stone walls bordering the cemetery. No kirk stood on this ground, yet it was hallowed just the same. Graves dating back several hundred years peppered the rich grass, kept dutifully short and trim by Jock.
The hardworking bees would heave themselves over the walls like striped Lancaster Bombers eager to investigate the graveyard, hoping to find some fresh flowers laid out to feast on. They skipped across the gossamer threads of spider silk festooned between the blades of grass and older gravestones, their shimmering strands glistening in the sun’s rays.
As he watched a spring mist crept silently across the fields, rolling over the walls of the graveyard and caressing the gravestones. A chill crept down his spine. “I’ll make you something from the wood.” He said, clenching the pipe stem in his teeth. Ah cannae take and nae gie back, Ah debt can make the strongest crack, Ah swear tae ye by all that’s blest, I’ll gie ye back ma very best. Jock said the old rhyme in his head, knowing it would be heard.
Sighing and shaking off the uneasy feeling he watched the mist roll on, over the far wall and disappear in the morning light. Jock loved his job, loved the peace and tranquillity, but sometimes, somethings, gave him the creeps. He climbed into the digger and turned the key, starting the engine which coughed into life. The exhaust spat out a customary dark puff of smoke which billowed into the air, joining the blue smoke from Jock’s pipe. Carefully he began to inch across the turf, pushing the remains of the tree out of the way. He checked his grid map of allocated plots in the still spacious grounds. Plot 242 had been purchased almost ten years ago and now, sadly, it was ready to receive its resident.
This land had been the resting place for the local families of Springnoll since the 15th century, when the village first established itself from a group of individual small holdings into a community. Despite nearly six hundred years of existence, it had not grown much. No new housing estates had sprung up as there was no influx of outsiders demanding social housing. The whole village was a bit of a heritage site, attracting tourists in the summer months eager to immerse themselves in a traditional Scottish experience.
The cottages were low set and thick walled, some still burned peat for heating. They were set out in neat rows on either side of the main road that carried traffic through to the larger towns. Behind each house there was still a traditional acre of land which many continued to use to grow their own vegetables and raise chickens.
The owners of the cottages received grants and support to maintain their homes in the traditional way, their payment was to have an “open house” policy for tourists wanting to see inside the old buildings. Most cottages had an extension at the back, inaccessible to tourists, where all the luxuries of modern-day living kept the families warm and comfortable in the cold harsh winter months.
Taking his faithful turfing spade out of the cab of the mini-digger, he carefully and expertly removed the top layer of verdant grass, setting it to one side to be re-laid after the funeral. Satisfied that he had completed a neat job, he returned to the cab of his faithful old machine which ticked over with a low, slow, growl.
Carefully, Jock directed the mechanical arm as it clanked its way across the now exposed ground driving its forked bucket into the black soil beneath. Jock was a master at his job, in one scrape he had exposed an almost perfect sized hole, he neatly deposited the spoil to one side, ready to be used as back fill. Another scrape pushed the depth another foot or so, it only needed to be six feet down on this new gravesite, another couple of scrapes and it would be ready for him to finish off the sides neatly in preparation for the burial tomorrow. Three feet down and he swung the bucket over the growing spoil pile, but this time Jock was startled by a ragged strip of canvas dangling from the blades.
Stopping the machine, he climbed out and stood, puzzled by the rotting canvas swinging in the light breeze. He couldn’t fathom what it was. To his knowledge, this ground had never been disturbed, how had this got buried here? He looked again at the yew tree he had cut down; it was at least fifty years old and had been growing right on top of the plot.
A niggling feeling grew in his gut, Jock didn’t know why but he carefully stepped to the edge of the grave and that niggle turned into a lurch. There, sticking out of the ground, surrounded by the remains of more canvas, was the unmistakable bones of a human arm. “Shit” he swore out loud, panicking and rushing back to his cab to check once more the site plan. This was definitely the right plot, he hadn’t made a mistake, this ground was supposedly untouched. Jock picked up his mobile, this wasn’t right. Who was in 242?
CHAPTER TWO
Margaret Beatie’s day had started shitty and had gone downhill from there. It was a typical end of the month, a get everything done at the last-minute scenario and she really didn’t need the phone call from Jock.
She listened with growing concern and panic to what was being said, scribbling down details. “OK, this is serious Jock. I need you to cordon off the area, put up barriers and tape, prevent anyone from going over there. Then I need you to call Harry and get him in with the other machine, open plot…” She frantically battered the computer keyboard, opening the database for burials and typed in the site plan to select a vacant space, “Plot 769. It is at the opposite end of the graveyard, I will explain to the family that the plot they had purchased was wrongly allocated, we can’t cancel the burial tomorrow, but I need to call the police, this must go through proper channels.”
“Will do Maggie, leave it to me, I could start the new opening with my digger…”
“NO, don’t move anything! We don’t know if this body is hundreds of years old from some battle or what. It could be more serious, there could be a risk of infection. We need to leave everything as it is until the police investigate.”
“Oh, alright, aye I never thought of that.” There was a click as Jock hung up to carry out his instructions and Margaret took a deep breath and called 999.
“Emergency Services. Which Service do you require?” The polite and professional voice on the other end of the line enquired.
“Police please.” There was a short pause then another control room official answered.
“Police, what is the emergency?”
“Hi, I’m Margaret Beatie from Springnoll Council, we’ve found a body.” There was a frantic rattling of keyboard keys through the line and some quick-fire questions about Margaret’s contact details.
“Are you with the body right now?”
“No, the body is in the graveyard.” A short silence ensued as the control operator clearly considered that this might be a prank.
“In the graveyard?”
“Yes, we were opening an unused plot for a burial tomorrow and we have dug up a body that clearly should not be there.”
“Oh, yes, I understand now. Right, we will have some officers on their way. Please don’t disturb…” she didn’t get a chance to finish.
“I know, we’ve cordoned off the area and left everything the way we found it, I’ve moved the burial tomorrow to a different plot as far away as possible from the site.”
“That’s great, is there someone down at the graveyard just now?”
“Yes. Jock Earnshaw, he is one of the groundsmen. Henry Fawcett, our junior gardener is there too. It was Jock that discovered the body.”
“That will be fine, some officers will be with you shortly.” The line went dead. Margaret logged out of her computer, month end would have to wait, she needed to be onsite when the police arrived. Grabbing her coat, she made her way through the old and slightly shabby council building, feeling guilty at being relieved she was out of the office.
Detective George Caldwell stared aimlessly at the report in front of him, he hated paperwork. It read fine to him, but the Chief Inspector (or troll bitch from hell as he liked to think of her) wasn’t happy. Apparently, it wasn’t politically correct enough, might offend people. Sighing, he scored out a section and re-wrote it in more neutral language, the world had gone mad when a criminal’s rights not to be offended outweighed the trauma and distress they had caused the victims and their families.
He looked at his reflection in the glass partition dividing his small office space from the other officers in his team, his face looked tired and disillusioned, sick of life and the horrors he had witnessed. His gaze inadvertently fell on the picture of a rosy cheeked smiling child of around six or seven, eyes twinkling as she looked in adoration at the person taking the picture. Closing his eyes against the tears that threatened to rise, he looked away again and shuffled his papers, shutting the folder and putting it in the out tray.
A younger officer put his head around the door, “Sir, got something that might interest you.” The officer nodded with his head for George to come out into the main office. Rising wearily, he followed, doubting if anything would really interest, shock, or surprise him ever again. Making his way over to the officer’s desk he glanced down perplexed at the bare fake wooden surface. The officer grinned, “This is something you have to see for yourself sir, just got the call in.”
Grunting in acknowledgement, George followed the officer out into the carpark shaking his head as he watched him dance around like an eager puppy. “What the hell is this all about Fraser?” George opened the officer’s car door and took the passenger seat.
“A mystery sir, in the village of Springnoll.”
“Springnoll? That’s like four houses and a chicken, isn’t it?” George managed a small smile as he watched Fraser laugh at his joke, oh to be young and eager to right all the wrongs in the world.
“I think they’ve built a few more houses since the Magna Carta was signed sir, population of about three hundred, give or take including the farms around it.”
“Well, I won’t let my head get turned by the bright lights and cosmopolitan lifestyle.” George stared out of the window as Fraser navigated the car onto the motorway. “What’s the mystery?”
“Possible murder, not sure yet.”
“What do you mean we’re not sure? There is either a body or not?”
“That’s the thing sir, they’ve found a skeleton.” Fraser skilfully weaved through the traffic heading South.
“Where?”
“In the graveyard.”
“Are you taking the piss son?”
“No, I mean in a part of the graveyard that should be empty, the ground doesn’t appear to have been disturbed.”
“There’s been a lot of battles around here Fraser, might be more archaeological than homicide.”
“That’s why SOCO are there right now, trying to determine if they should call the museum or get us involved, but it looks suspicious alright, body was wrapped in a canvas tarpaulin.”
“Fuck, looks like this is going to be fun.” They sat in silence as Fraser took the turn off onto the single-track road leading to the village.
Margaret Beatie stood at the entrance to the graveyard and watched the officers in white paper suits and masks march in and out to their incident vans. Some were on their hands and knees searching through the tight knit grass. There was blue and white tape cordoning off the area and a white tent set up over the open grave. She sighed and shook her head, what a mess.
“Hi Maggie, you alright?” Arthur Colquhoun, the local Blacksmith, had joined the increasing number of people gathered around the entrance.
Maggie turned and gave him a small smile, “A bit of a shit show I’m afraid. I hope they’ve finished before the funeral tomorrow.” She looked up as another car pulled in and was directed to a sectioned off parking space by a uniformed officer. Maggie’s hands tightened on her handbag as she saw two men step out of the vehicle and make their way towards the tent.
“What we got here Jean?” George peered over the edge of the hole, watching the SOCO carefully exposing skeletal remains.
“Strange one I’m afraid George.” Jean Foster furrowed her brow as she joined him at the graveside, “Judging by the soil density,” she stood up and looked at her notes, “and I’m guesstimating here, still waiting on lab analysis,” she pursed her lips and flipped over a couple of pages, “it has been disturbed but not for around fifty to sixty years.”
“Fuck, not an ancient battle then?”
“Nope, sorry, you can take the archaeologists off stand by. They didn’t make canvas tarpaulins two hundred years ago.”
“Just what I needed, a fucking cold case murder in a sleepy hamlet in the middle of fucking nowhere.” George sighed and stared at Jean, he had known her a long time, most of his career in fact. She was an absolute genius and a detective’s best friend. “I need as much info as you can get from this bag of bones Jean. Facial reconstruction, DNA, and remnants of clothing labels etc. You know the drill.”
“You want the good news or the bad news?”
“Bad news.”
“There are no traces of clothing in the soil or around the body, he…”
“We know it’s a John Doe then?”
“Seen the pelvis so yes, high probability it’s he. Anyway, he seems to have been buried naked, so your label idea is out of the question. Don’t hold out much hope on a DNA match or id, didn’t have any records fifty years ago, so tick that one off your list. The facial bones are badly smashed, as are several other bones in the body, like a road traffic accident, our boy was run over good and proper.”
“So, no fucking facial reconstruction either, fuck Jean is there any good news?”
“Steady on George, that is the good news. It will take some time but with the new computer systems in place, I think we can confidently reconstruct most of the features, hopefully the dental records will help us identify the victim.”
“Hallelujah.” George muttered as he turned to go, “How long before he is out of the ground.”
“Should be finished by the early hours of the morning, we’ll keep the area cordoned off, but any surface evidence will be long gone. She watched him as he started to leave, “George…” He stopped and cocked his head back, “How are you doing?”
He hung his head and paused, “As well as can be expected Jean, no parent should bury their child.”
“No George, they shouldn’t, and for the record, Mary isn’t thinking straight either, she shouldn’t have left you, it wasn’t as though it was your fault. I mean you didn’t give Stacy bloody cancer.”
George visibly flinched at the word, “Well, tell that to her, divorce papers came through last week, signed them and sent them back the same day.”
“I’m so sorry George.” Jean almost reached out, but she knew he would not appreciate it. George was old school, he was the last of the old-style coppers, made his way up through the ranks to detective and then detective inspector.
He had been married late, meeting Mary at some singles club. She was younger than him by nearly twenty years, raised a few eyebrows around the place, but when they got married and she fell pregnant that was the best thing that had happened to George. The marriage had only lasted the time that little Stacy lived, she was the glue that held them together. When she died, well so did they. George was almost at early retirement age, though the last few months had aged him more than his fifty-five years.
“Thanks Jean, I appreciate that.” He pushed through the tent flaps and looked at the crowd at the gate, as expected the press vultures had arrived and were busy interviewing the bystanders. George motioned to Fraser, “Where’s the gravedigger?”
“I put him in one of the vans out of the way.”
“Good man.” They walked together to the police vehicle parked at the end of the row of slowly increasing parked cars.
