The Long Call

“Her accent was pure North Devon, just like his. Warm and thick like the cream his mother used to make.”

All the characters of The Long Call are strongly situated in a sense of place. Here, Cleeves uses the simile of a smile being like thick cream in order to give shape to this rural, agrarian landscape and to position these characters in their historical context. Even for those who have no conception of what the North Devon accent sounds like, Cleeves has provided a concrete image to convey the emotional essence associated with these particular inflections.

“The room was a little untidy. Uncared for. It was as if they were camping out here. Matthew wondered what had brought them to the house.”

This close third-person narration from Matthew’s perspective demonstrates the detective’s powers of observation, which he applies almost unconsciously to any sight that meets his eye. The passage also establishes his ability to build a portrait of the Marstons just by observing how they live. With this approach, Cleeves also implies that Matthew’s observations will have considerable significance as the protagonists work to solve the mystery of Simon’s murder.

“‘He’s someone who travelled light,’ Jen said. ‘It could be a monk’s room.’ Ross was standing beside her, his back against the closed door. ‘Or a prison cell.’”

The juxtaposition of a “monk’s room” and a “prison” illustrates the differing ways in which Jen and Ross view the world, proving that Ross is more likely to jump to a bleaker conclusion than Jen is. However, these two different descriptions of the space also create an implicit comparison between the entrapments of faith and the reality of imprisonment.

“Most of their phone calls had included his plans for the site, his passion for bringing together different groups of people in one place—artists and adults with a learning disability—so it seemed to Matthew that the project almost embodied their love affair, the reckless, unimaginable possibilities of two alien individuals becoming one.”

Matthew’s comparison of the Woodyard with his own relationship with Jonathan immediately raises the question of whether Matthew will be able to separate the Woodyard’s involvement in Simon’s murder from his emotional attachment to Jonathan. On a separate note, Matthew’s use of the word “unimaginable” to describe his relationship with Jonathan suggests his ongoing incredulity at his ability to pursue a successful, joyous relationship with another man despite the lingering trauma of his religious upbringing.

“Jen thought there was something of a fanatic about her. Caroline had fallen for the idea of saving Walden. She’d liked him because he’d followed her advice, and that seemed the worst kind of pride.”

This initial description of Caroline’s “fanaticism” foreshadows the darkness at the heart of her relationship with Edward, for she is willing to help cover up his rape of Rosa because she feels that she can “save” him, just as she felt she could save Simon. The use of the word “fanaticism” also implies that Caroline’s willingness to privilege her own ego over the greater good connotes a certain degree of religious extremity.

“There’s something of the passion of the convert about him. The ruthless businessman who suddenly found a social conscience.”

This description of Christopher Preece dovetails with the previous description of Caroline Preece. Matthew, like Jen, uses a religious metaphor to describe Christopher as possessing “the passion of the convert.” This metaphor highlights the zeal with which Christopher will protect the Woodyard. This is not a rational passion, but one motivated by his unthinking faith in the inherent goodness of the mission.

“It had been such a strain living with her, the moods and the anger, the days of total withdrawal, the helplessness because I couldn’t help her or make her well. And it was that moment that caused the guilt.”

In this passage, Christopher Preece explains why he felt relief at the realization that his wife had died by suicide. Preece also articulates the inception of his ongoing guilt; for him, the guilt is caused by his cognitive dissonance over feeling responsible for something over which he had no control. Preece’s articulation helps give shape to how the novel portrays the nature of guilt.

“There was nothing picturesque here. No thatch. It would never have been featured in an episode of Midsomer Murders.”

This tongue-in-cheek moment of metafictional commentary explicitly illustrates the fact that Cleeves sees her work as differing from the popular ITV mystery series Midsomer Murders. The Long Call, like Midsomer Murders, depicts the landscapes of rural Britain, but unlike the television show, the novel does not romanticize these settings. Instead, Cleeves endeavors to show both the beauty and the ugliness of Devon.

“He had the social skills of a worm, but because he was Oldham’s favorite nobody had the nerve to tell him.”

When Jen compares Ross to a “worm,” this passage is an example of Cleeves’s strategy of shifting the roving third-person narration to capture the voices of different characters. Matthew’s narration never reflects such a dismissive attitude toward a peer, but Jen, who is always more willing than Matthew to break from convention, feels comfortable enough to criticize her co-worker.

“Then he’d realized where he was and that it was his turn to make the coffee. Jonathan was barely moving and only sat up in bed when Matthew came back into the room with his hands cupped round the mug. Poised in the doorway, Mathew stared at him for a moment: blond-haired, bare-chested. Beautiful.”

Cleeves accomplishes a great deal of characterization through the use of small details, and this description of Matthew and Jonathan’s habit of taking turns getting up early to make the coffee demonstrates the egalitarian nature of their marriage. Over the years, they have clearly worked together to come up with routines and practices that are mutually beneficial. Cleeves therefore creates a portrait of an entire marriage using a single, precise description.

“They’d played together occasionally when Brethren meetings dragged on, the members lingering to discuss esoteric points of dogma and practice. Should hats be worn or not worn at meetings? What was really meant by the virgin birth? As he recalled, both questions had been considered equally seriously.”

The sarcastic final line of this quote characterizes Matthew’s contemptuous attitude toward the Barum Brethren. He views the Brethren’s approach to faith as being far more concerned with respectability and adherence to tradition than with the work of finding meaning in faith.

“Jen knew about marrying too young, what it was like to be caught up with the romance of the idea, to blink away the solid reality of the man.”

Here, Jen sympathizes with Simon’s ex-wife about coming to terms with the reality of the man one has chosen to marry. When Jen recalls “blink[ing] away the solid reality of the man,” this image characterizes Jen’s belief that she deluded herself during her marriage, intentionally looking away from the truths of her husband’s character. Rather than dealing with all aspects of her husband, she chose not to acknowledge the things she wished were not present at all.

“Jonathan put his arm around Matthew’s shoulder and drew him in, then clung onto him. It was as if Jonathan were drowning and needed support.”

This scene represents just one of the many instances in which Cleeves uses physicality to give weight to a character’s emotional state. Here, Jonathan’s inability to deal with the Woodyard’s troubles manifests as a physical pressure—and one that demands Matthew’s help. The silent body language also demonstrates the level of love and trust between them.

“The building was deceptively spacious and light. There were posters on the walls, semi-religious imagery of rainbows and doves, slogans about taking power, and love the inner you. Here it seemed hope and the possibility of redemption abounded. It made Jen feel like punching someone.”

This passage once again showcases Jen’s irreverent attitude. Here, Cleeves uses Jen’s sarcasm to characterize the character’s opinions about the platitudes of organized religion. In this case, Jen’s suspicious attitude toward faith is actually a source of anger for her.

“It was impossible here to tell where the river ended and the sea began. Arm in arm they walked, the shadow thrown by the moonlight turning them into one person, misshapen and weird.”

The image of Matthew and Jonathan walking together along the beach as “one person, misshapen and weird,” evokes Matthew’s deep connection to his husband. However, while this emotional state has always characterized his marriage, the use of the word “misshapen” reflects the fact that this case is his forcing him to reconsider who Jonathan is, and what Jonathan knows about the goings-on at the Woodyard. The “shape” that Jonathan has always held within their relationship is now changing, and Matthew does not yet know what that shape will be when the case is over.

“We all need secrets, just to keep sane, to feel that the world doesn’t own us.”

Here, Gaby articulates to Caroline her interpretation of Simon’s character: that he was a man who felt controlled by outside forces and needed to hide himself from the world in order to fight that control. This explanation also foreshadows the nature of her own relationship with Simon, for Gaby kept this connection secret to protect it from the world.

“Although Matthew had lost his faith years before, he’d been brought up with a belief in the afterlife. Perhaps this was as near as it got, influence beyond the grave.”

Here, Cleeves uses Matthew’s narration to characterize the detective’s attitude toward religion. Matthew knows that he doesn’t believe in the Brethren’s interpretation of faith, but this passage shows that his position toward fundamental elements of Christianity, like belief in the afterlife, is still protean.

“Jen Rafferty had been enjoying her time at home with the kids. When they’d been younger she’d found it hard to deal with them after she’d been away at work for a while. She’d thought she should be delighted to see them again, but it had never been like that. She knew a good mother with miss her children and love their company.”

The Long Call explores many attitudes toward guilt. Here, Jen touches on the guilt of motherhood, which for her, involves reconciling the differences between society’s image of a good mother, and the more human, realistic version of motherhood that she embodies; she is ultimately a caring but imperfect mother who does the best she can and berates herself for not living up to idealistic standards of motherhood.

“Matthew wondered if she’d speak for the man when they were married, because he thought they would marry. There was something settled, immovable about the relationship.”

This passage demonstrates Matthew’s powers of observation. His assessment of Caroline’s relationship with Edward allows him to deduce that Caroline knew about Edward’s rape of Rosa. His conclusion that the pair will marry demonstrates his keen ability to extrapolate many things from the details of his observations.

“I was thinking about the American president and that scandal with the young girl. It was a skirt that proved she was telling the truth. I didn’t trust them, you see. There’d be DNA, would there, on both of them?”

Janet Holsworthy’s reference to the Bill Clinton/Monica Lewinsky scandal situates Rosa’s rape within a broader history of sexual abuse. As in the Clinton/Lewinsky case, Rosa was taken advantage of by a man who was in a position of power and used that power to his own ends. The reference is a reminder that Rosa’s case doesn’t exist in isolation.

“Behind him, he heard a rustle in the dunes. Shifting sand. Some small animal sliding home with its prey. Then a heavier step. Ross and Jen had already walked all the way to the road, perhaps, and had come to join him here on the shore. Or maybe they’d found Lucy, but there was no phone signal where they were, so they’d come to tell him.”

Here, Cleeves uses short, choppy syntax to create a sense of urgency as the novel moves toward its climax. The short, fragmentary nature of these descriptions increases the momentum of the narrative, building one visceral moment on top of one another until Matthew is suddenly bludgeoned from behind.

“The water was only metres from them now, sliding up the beach, a gentle and secret killer.”

The Marstons’ and Saltons’ method of murder reflects their own twisted relationship to guilt. These two very religious couples choose a means of murder that removes them from the actual act of killing. Dennis Salter has convinced himself that he won’t be guilty if he isn’t the one who directly causes the death—just as he is convinced that he isn’t responsible for Simon’s murder because he abused Grace into committing murder for him.

“Entitled people are more worried about their own reputations than the people in their care, losing any sense of humanity along the way. A kind of collective madness.”

In this quote, Matthew articulates the novel’s central message about the relationships between class, power, and decency. He believes that privileged people’s compulsion to protect their interests at all costs is ultimately dehumanizing, and this perspective leads him to crack the case. It is, after all, the three most privileged men in the novel—Salter, Preece, and Marston—who are behind the cover-up at the Woodyard.