Arms and the Women
‘Luminously written, thrilling, unexpectedly erudite, and beautifully structured’ Geoffrey Wansell, Daily MailWhen Ellie Pascoe finds herself under threat, her husband DCI Peter Pascoe and Superintendent Andy Dalziel assume it’s because she’s married to a cop.While they hunt down the source of the danger, Ellie heads out of town in search of a haven… only to get tangled up in a conspiracy involving Irish arms, Colombian drugs and men who will stop at nothing to achieve their ends.Dalziel eventually concludes the security services are involved, but by then it is too late. Ellie’s on her own – and must dig deep down into her reserves to survive…
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REGINALD HILL
ARMS AND THE WOMEN
A Dalziel and Pascoe novel
Harper An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2000
Copyright © Reginald Hill 2000
Extract from âMarinaâ from the Collected Poems 1909â62 by T.S. Eliot (published by Faber and Faber Ltd) Reproduced by permission of Faber and Faber Ltd
Lines from âGirlsâ by Stevie Smith from The Collected Poems of Stevie Smith (Penguin) © James McGibbon 1975
Extracts from The Englishmanâs Flora by Geoffrey Grigson (Phoenix House 1987)
Extract from A Celtic Miscellany by Kenneth Hurlstone Jackson (Penguin 1971)
Reginald Hill asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the authorâs imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
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Source ISBN: 9780007313181
Ebook Edition © JULY 2015 ISBN: 9780007378548 Version: 2015-06-18
This oneâs for
those Six Proud Walkers
in whose company the sun always shines bright
Emmelien
Jane
Liz
Margaret
Mary
Teresa
who most Fridays of the yearâ¦on distant hills
Gliding apace, with shadows in their train,
Might, with small help from fancy, be transformed
Into fleet Oreads sporting visiblyâ¦
and, of course, laughing and talking and eating
almond slices,
with fondest greetings from
one of the trailing shadows!
What song the Syrens sang, or what name Achilles assumed when he hid himself among women, though puzzling Questions, are not beyond all conjecture.
SIR THOMAS BROWNE: Urn Burial
With my own eyes Iâve seen the Sibyl at Cumae hanging in a pot, and when the young lads asked her, what do you want for yourself, Sibyl? she replied, I want to die.
PETRONIUS: The Satyricon
Girls! although I am a woman
I always try to appear human
STEVIE SMITH: Girls!
Contents
ii whoâs that knocking at my door?
iv spelt from Sibylâs leaves
viii spelt from Sibylâs leaves
xv spelt from Sibylâs leaves
xvii the juice of strawberries
xviii the flowers that bloom in the spring, tra-la!
iv spelt from Sibylâs leaves
xi spelt from Sibylâs leaves
When I go to see my father, he doesnât know me.
Heâs away somewhere else in a strange land.
I tell myself itâs not all bad. He missed all that suffering when we thought Rosie was going to die. And all those refugees in Africa, and in Europe too, that we see streaming across our television screens, he doesnât have to worry about them. Global warming, AIDS, the Euro, none of these impinges on his consciousness. He doesnât even have to feel anxious about his roses when gales are forecast in July.
He sits here in the Home, like ignorance on a monument, smiling at nothing.
At least heâs content, the nurses tell us, and we tell them back, yes, at least heâs content.
Content to be nobody and nowhere.
But I have seen him outside of this room, this cocoon, with memories of somebody and somewhere still intermittent in his mind, staring in bewilderment at the woman who is both his wife and a complete stranger, pausing in the hallway of his own house, unable to recall if heâs heading for the kitchen or the garden and ignorant of which door to use if he does remember, crying out in terror as the dog which has been his most obedient servant for nearly ten years comes bounding towards him, barking its love.
