I like Reginald Hill, but his later books do veer into a level of obscurity that I don’t enjoy.
If so, this must be a mid-period book, a fantasy based on a mid-Yorkshire village called Enscombe (not a Yorkshire suffix as he says) with an elderly lord of the manor, his bonkers heirs, peasant farmers, and a collection of much more up to date eccentric inhabitants.
The plot revolves around a missing policeman and all sorts of jolly japes, and ends with Wield (who meets his lover Digweed there) pronouncing that the whole thing was a fairy tale. Not a very good one either.
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