Sorry it's been so long, but I'm all settled in my student accommodation now. Btw, both my parents were from Yorkshire, but I grew up in the south. I researched some dales dialect on the internet, but if I got it wrong you'll just have to bear with me.

Chapter 3

The Brigadier felt truly useless, why had he ever volunteered to help? The pretty young Lanton girl had already successfully milked almost the whole herd in the time it had taken him to squeeze a small amount of milk from just one cow. She looked over at him and smiled sympathetically.

"Ah, it's alreight, Mr Brigadier," she said. I'll do it missen, why don't you go and 'elp Jonny wiv t'calves?"

The Brigadier got up in relief, leaving the milking shed as quickly as possible. He crossed the small courtyard, to the shed that he saw Benton disappear into.

"They's good 'uns this year, Sophie," said Benton, his back to the Brigadier. "I'll 'appen we've 'ave a few too many bulls, but…"

"Benton."

Benton jumped, and whirled around.

"Sorry sir," he said. "I thought you were Miss Lanton."

"It's quite alright, Benton. Actually, she sent me to see if you needed a hand."

"Ah, you didn't have much luck with the milking then?"

The Brig glared at him.

"So, Benton, what exactly are you doing?"

Benton held out his hand. He was clutching what appeared to be a plastic baby bottle. As Alastair watched, leant down and firmly inserted the teat into the calf's mouth.

"Well, sir, we've got a few calves who've been left without mothers, and they have to be raised by hand."

"I see."

"Here, sir."

Benton beckoned the Brigadier over, and transferred the grip on the bottle.

"Just keep it steady there, sir. That's the last one."

Benton climbed into the next pen, and began examining the four calves in there.

"I must say," said the Brigadier. "This is much easier than trying to get the damn milk into the bucket. I could get used to this farming lark."

Benton smiled slightly as the bottle was emptied.

"Alright then, sir," he said. "Now that you're the expert in farming, can you tell me which two of these four calves are the strongest?"

Alastair studied them carefully. "Those two."

"Correct."

Benton took the other two calves and dragged them over to a separate pen far away from the others.

"We can just leave them in here for now. Mr Lanton will take care of them later."

"When you say take care..."

"They're bulls," shrugged Benton in way of explanation. "We can only take so many bulls per year. They're surplus to requirements."

"You mean they're going to be killed?"

"Yes, sir."

"But that's barbaric!"

"Come again, sir?"

"Can't you just... sell them or something?"

"Nobody would want them. They don't produce milk, and they're the wrong type of cows to turn into beef. They'll be slaughtered, and then carved up to be fed to the dogs."

"But... it's..."

"It's life, Brigadier," said Benton, almost coldly. "It's the way the world works."

The Brigadier nodded and left, reeling. In twenty years if soldiering, nothing had shocked him like this. He supposed that he had never really thought about how Britain's food supply worked. He was a city boy himself, and hadn't even set eyes on such thing as a cow until he was in his late teens. His family had taken trips into the countryside, but he didn't remember farmyard animals featuring much in them.

As he walked back to the temporary barracks, he made a mental note never to get on Mr Lantons bad side.

XXX

"I know where we can set up a mobile HQ, sir."

The Brigadier looked up as Benton spoke, irritation written across his face.

"You do, do you?" he said. "Well I'd rather go into the village first, make our presence known to some of the locals in the police station."

"Yes sir, very good, sir."

"Alright. Are we close?"

"Just a few miles now sir."

A little while later they trundled into the little village, and parked their jeeps by the green.

"That's the station over there."

The Brigadier nodded, and started out towards the little building. The men followed behind, talking amongst themselves. When they walked in, silence fell, and the locals turned to stare at them. The Brigadier made to approach the desk sergeant.

"Good morning…"

But the policeman ignored him, staring past him.

"Hey, lads!" he cried. "Lookee who it is! It's little Johnny Benton!"

There was a scrambling noise, and a two more policemen hurried into the room. Benton blushed, stepping forwards.

"Hello Mr Crabbitch," he said. "Are you well?"

"Aye, mustn't grumble," said the older man. "But wha abaaht you! Little Johnny Benton, all grown up. You're a spittin' image of yer da tha knaas."

"I know," sighed Benton.

"But you always were," continued Mr Crabbitch. "You and t'other childer. How is t'lass? Got 'erself a fella yet?"

The Brigadier cleared his throat.

"Ahem, Sergeant Benton, if you wouldn't mind, you can have a cosy catch up later."

"Yes sir. Sorry sir."

"Now, Mr Crabbitch," said the Brigadier. "We are here from UNIT. We received some reports of strange happenings in the area..."

"Oh aye? You'll be wantin' the Lantons. They've been mighty flayed, reckon there's a friggin' on the dale."

"The tenants?" asked Benton sharply. "But surely they would-"

"Sergeant," interrupted the Brigadier, indicating for a quiet word. Benton followed him to one side.

"Alright Benton, what did he say?"

Benton stared at the Brigadier, stunned. Then before he could stop himself, he burst out laughing. The policeman was chuckling as well.

"Oh Mr Crabbitch," laughed Benton. "I see you're still a rum'n."

The brigadier was looking decidedly unimpressed, so Benton quickly explained.

"He said that we want to go and see the Lanton family. They've been scared recently, and seem to think there's a curse on the valley."

XXX

A little while later, they had stopped the jeeps in a deserted field. The Brigadier looked distinctly unimpressed.

"This is your 'ideal location'?" he said scathingly.

"Yes sir," said Benton. The village is less than a mile that way, the Lantons live half a mile that way, and we can use that big house on the hill as a temporary barracks. I would take us a bit closer, but the other fields are being used for the sheep at the minute..."

"Why are you so sure we can use the house, Benton? It's not derelict is it?"

"Good Lord, no sir. It just hasn't been lived it for... It must be nearly ten years now. It might be a bit dusty..."

"But shouldn't we ask the owner?"

"No need."

"Benton, if you don't explain yourself..."

"I own the land sir," he said abruptly. "Consider it at your disposal."

He did an about turn and strode away quickly, leaving a stunned Brigadier in his wake.