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It was about seven o’clock on Tuesday morning, the seventh of August 1917, when PC Jessop reached South Farm. He was surprised to see the owner, Joshua Blunden, leaning over the gate that led directly into his five-acre field, and which at this time of year always contained a number of haystacks. Although Blunden was out on his rounds at dawn every day, those early morning chores were usually completed before seven o’clock and he could normally be found indoors having breakfast at that hour. Whenever he was passing the farm, PC Jessop always called in on the Blundens on the pretext of checking that there had not been a sudden outbreak of foot-and-mouth disease among the farmer’s herd of cattle, or the onset of epizootic lymphangitis among those of his horses that had not been commandeered by the military. But the reality was that Jessop enjoyed a cup of Martha Blunden’s tea, a round of toast and a chinwag. In common with most policemen, he would always listen to local gossip; a surprising amount of petty crime was often unwittingly revealed and there had only ever been petty crime in Thresham Parva. Until today. This morning however, Jessop was in for a surprise. ‘Morning, Josh. We’ll be having a bit more rain today, I shouldn’t wonder.’ Jessop dismounted from his bicycle. ‘It don’t do my rheumatics any good. It’s times like this when I think I’m getting too old for this job.’ The constable wondered why Blunden was not inviting him in for his usual cup of tea. ‘You’re out and about later than usual this morning, Josh,’ he commented, hoping for an answer that would satisfy his curiosity. ‘I’ve found a body, Mr Jessop.’ Blunden removed the clay pipe from his mouth with one hand, took off his worn cloth cap with the other and briefly scratched his bald pate. ‘One of your sheep been got at by a dog, was it?’ Jessop looked concerned. Dogs attacking sheep was a serious matter and regrettably not uncommon. ‘No. It’s young Daisy Salter, the coal merchant’s girl.’ Blunden was a phlegmatic character, not known to get excited about anything. From the way he made this awesome announcement to the local policeman, anyone could be forgiven for thinking that the finding of a body was an everyday occurrence at South Farm. Jessop frowned. He did not like the sound of that. ‘Dead is she?’ ‘Aye!’ ‘Where is she, Josh?’ ‘In the corner of the field right behind this hedge, Mr Jessop.’ Blunden indicated the place by pointing with the stem of his pipe. ‘What time was it that you found her, Josh?’ ‘About a half hour since. I guessed you’d be on your rounds already, and as you always pass here about this time, I thought I’d wait for you.’ ‘Better take a look, I suppose.’ Slowly and carefully, Jessop propped his bicycle against the hedge and waited for Blunden to open the five-bar gate.
