Текст книги "Dying Fall"

Автор книги: Elly Griffiths

Соавторы: Elly Griffiths
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CHAPTER 5

Shona lives in King’s Lynn, near Sandra the childminder, so Ruth drops in on her way home. Kate loves children younger than herself and has developed a convincingly patronising attitude towards them. ‘Baby,’ she says as soon as she sees Louis. ‘Little baby.’

‘Yes,’ says Shona admiringly. ‘But you’re a big girl, aren’t you?’

Kate looks pleased at this description but Ruth, who is also sometimes called a ‘big girl’, is rather more ambivalent.

But Louis really isn’t that little. In fact, he seems to have grown since Ruth saw him a few days ago. He dominates Shona’s stylish sitting room, surveying the world from his bouncy chair like his namesake, the Sun King himself. Toys and baby clothes cover every surface, nursery rhymes play on a manic loop in the background. Ruth is reminded of the time when Shona looked after Kate, then only a few months old. Kate had screamed the entire time, and in minutes Shona’s beautiful sanded wood floors had become covered in toys, books, tapes, bottles of milk – evidence of abortive attempts to placate her – and when Ruth had arrived, all she had to do was take her baby in her arms and the crying had stopped immediately. Ruth remembers that day well. It was the first time she had really felt like a mother.

Shona still doesn’t look like a mother. She is too slim for one thing, having miraculously regained her pre-pregnancy figure. ‘It’s the breast-feeding,’ she says smugly, floating away to put the kettle on. She is also too well dressed. Ruth spent her entire maternity leave in tracksuit bottoms; Shona is wearing a short flowery dress, and high-heeled sandals tied with ribbon. She has even done her hair, though, as usual, it looks artfully dishevelled. It is only when Ruth sees her close up that she notices the shadows under the mascara’d eyes.

‘How are you?’ asks Ruth, when Shona reappears with tea, and juice for Kate.

‘OK. Knackered.’

‘They are tiring, the first months,’ says Ruth. ‘I remember it well.’

Louis starts to bang his rattle on the table in front of him.

‘Noisy baby,’ says Kate, primly sipping her juice.

‘When are you going back to work?’ asks Ruth. Shona teaches English at the university, which is how they first met.

Shona pulls a face as she reaches down to pick up Louis’ dropped rattle.

‘I’m not sure I want to go back.’

Ruth stares at her friend. She remembers the emotional intensity of those months alone with your baby. She remembers the feeling that work was another world, one that you are no longer equipped to enter. But not to go back at all?

‘I remember feeling like that,’ she says. ‘But, when I went back, it felt great. I felt like I was a person again.’

She had almost cried with happiness when she saw her office again, but she’s not going to tell Shona that.

‘I don’t know,’ says Shona. ‘I just love being with Louis. I’m so enjoying him.’

Maybe it’s different if you have another adult at home, thinks Ruth. Mind you, that other adult is Phil.

‘What does Phil think?’ she says.

‘Oh,’ says Shona dismissively. ‘He thinks I should go back. He says we need the money. He says we should get a childminder. He’s always going on about how well you cope.’

‘He is?’

Part of Ruth is gratified to hear this. She has tried hard not to let her motherhood intrude on her work or to burden her colleagues with excuses about illness or child-minding problems. But on the other hand – cope? How many men are complimented on how well they ‘cope’ with fatherhood?

‘Well, you’ve got a while to decide,’ says Ruth. ‘You can take a year now if you want.’

‘But you only get paid maternity leave for six months,’ says Shona. ‘Honestly, I never knew Phil was such an old woman about money.’

But Shona didn’t know Phil that well at all, thinks Ruth, until she moved in with him. They had been lovers for some time but, as we all know, lovers are more attractive than husbands or boyfriends. Phil probably made efforts to disguise his chronic stinginess (a standing joke in the department) when he was only seeing Shona twice a week, stolen hours in a country pub or in the office after dark. Even so, Ruth bets that he kept the receipts.

‘Louis is gorgeous, though,’ says Ruth, retreating to a safer topic. ‘I can see why you don’t want to leave him.’

Shona puts her son on a rug on the floor, propped up by cushions. Kate sits next to him and solemnly shows him how to work his shape sorter. Louis doesn’t seem that interested in shape-sorting himself. He just sits and smiles goofily at Kate.

‘Isn’t it sweet?’ says Shona. ‘Maybe they’ll get married.’

‘Maybe,’ says Ruth drily. ‘Maybe they’ll achieve something neither of their mothers managed.’

Shona looks sideways at Ruth. She knows about Nelson but is usually very good about ignoring Kate’s parentage. Like most of Ruth’s friends, she acts as if Kate sprang fully formed from the maternal egg.

‘How’s Max?’ she asks.

‘OK,’ says Ruth. ‘He’s down next weekend.’

‘We should get babysitters and go out, the four of us,’ says Shona.

‘We should,’ says Ruth. She has no desire to see more of Phil than she has to but maybe it would be good for them to socialise with another couple. It might make her relationship with Max seem more like a relationship.

‘We might be going on holiday,’ says Ruth.

‘You and Max?’

‘No.’ Ruth realises that this isn’t what she meant. ‘Me and Kate.’

‘Oh.’ The sideways glance again. ‘Where?’

‘Blackpool. Well, Lytham.’

She tells Shona about Dan and about the invitation from Pendle University. She doesn’t tell her about the text message or about the possibility that the fire might not have been an accident. Shona listens, entranced. She always loves a story. Her subject is English literature, after all.

‘Oh you must go,’ she says. ‘Kate would love Blackpool. She could ride on the donkeys, go on the rides at the Pleasure Beach.’

‘Most of the Pleasure Beach rides look terrifying.’ Ruth had looked on the website last night.

‘Well, there must be a carousel or something,’ says Shona. ‘You ought to go. Dan might have discovered something big after all. It would be good for your career.’

Her career. In recent years Ruth has wondered whether her career hasn’t, in fact, become a job. She still loves archaeology but she has never written a book or made her name in any way. She did discover the Iron Age girl and has certainly helped the police a few times, but students in years to come are hardly going to talk about the Ruth Galloway Theory or the Ruth Galloway Method. She is a jobbing forensic archaeologist, that’s all.

‘I might go,’ says Ruth. ‘Funny, I’ve travelled all over Europe but I’ve hardly ever been further north than the Midlands.’

‘Oh, it’s all different up north,’ says Shona. ‘I’ve got an aunt in Hartlepool, so I know.’

*

Nelson, too, is on mother and baby duty. He had been surprised when Leah informed him that Judy was already back at home. ‘They only keep them in one night these days.’ Then, as he and Clough had driven back from investigating a reported shooting near Castle Rising (turned out to be an airgun being fired at pigeons), Clough remarked casually, ‘Judy lives near here, boss. Shall we pop in?’ So they had stopped at a petrol station and bought flowers and chocolates and were now, rather self-consciously, examining the tiny object wrapped tightly in a yellow blanket.

‘Can I hold him?’ asks Clough. Nelson looks at him curiously. He’d heard rumours that Clough and Trace had been talking about starting a family, but now the relationship is over and Clough has custody of the couple’s dog, a rather demented labradoodle. Certainly Clough seems better with babies than is usual for an unmarried (straight) man.

‘Say hello to your Uncle Dave,’ says Clough, but the baby’s eyes remain resolutely shut. He is very dark with soft down over his forehead.

‘How are you?’ Nelson asks Judy. She looks exhausted, he thinks, her hair dark with grease and her eyes bloodshot. Darren, on the other hand, who is now preparing tea in the kitchen, seems manic with happiness.

‘Bit tired,’ says Judy. ‘It’s hard work, having a baby.’

‘So Michelle tells me.’

‘He’s beautiful,’ says Clough. ‘Have you got a name yet? What about David after his favourite uncle?’

‘Michael,’ says Darren, coming in with the tray. ‘We’ve decided on Michael.’

‘Why Michael?’ asks Clough. ‘After Michael Owen?’

‘No. I’m a Chelsea supporter. My granddad was called Michael and we just liked the name, didn’t we, love?’

Judy nods. To Nelson’s expert eye (he has three daughters, after all), she looks close to tears. He wishes they hadn’t come. It’s far too soon for visitors. Clough, slurping tea and scoffing cake, is oblivious to everything. Darren has now taken charge of the baby and is looking with wonder at the wizened little face.

‘He’s very dark,’ observes Clough. ‘You must be glad he isn’t ginger like you.’

Nelson raises his eyes heavenward. Just when Clough is almost behaving like a civilised human being, he comes out with something like that. But Darren, who is undoubtedly red-haired, just laughs. Today, nothing can offend him.

‘Oh, he’s got Judy’s looks. And Judy’s brains too, I hope.’

‘He’s a grand little chap,’ says Nelson.

‘Do you want a hold?’ asks Darren.

‘You’re all right,’ Nelson begins, but the proud father has placed his son in Nelson’s arms. On cue, Michael’s eyelids flutter and he looks at Nelson out of big, dark eyes that are somehow oddly familiar.

*

As Ruth and Kate approach their house, they see a dilapidated car parked in front of it.

‘Cathbad!’ shouts Kate in delight.

She can hardly wait until Ruth has undone her car seat before she throws herself in her godfather’s arms. Ruth’s eyes prickle, and not just from the salt wind blowing in from the sea. She is glad that Kate has Cathbad in her life, a solid male figure (albeit one in a purple cloak) who will continue to be there for her whatever happens to Ruth and Max – or Ruth and Nelson.

‘Hi, Ruth.’ Cathbad comes towards her carrying Kate. ‘I’ve brought that book I was telling you about.’

Yesterday, Ruth had mentioned Dan’s letter and the reference to the Raven King. Cathbad had thought that he had a book about the mythology of birds and, sure enough, here he is, holding it out as if it is his alibi. But Cathbad doesn’t need a reason to visit. He knows that he is always welcome.

It is such a lovely evening that they walk down to the beach, swinging Kate over the little streams and ditches. The tide is coming in but there is still a stretch of sand, wide and clear. Ruth takes off Kate’s shoes and the little girl runs delightedly towards the sea, stopping occasionally to look at starfish and clam shells.

‘A water baby,’ says Cathbad. ‘Typical Scorpio.’

Nelson is also Scorpio, thinks Ruth. She’s never thought to ask if he likes water. He is certainly no fan of the Saltmarsh.

Ruth and Cathbad also take off their shoes and walk in the shallows. The water feels heavenly against Ruth’s tired feet.

‘Have you seen Judy?’ asks Cathbad.

‘No,’ says Ruth. ‘I sent a card but I thought they … she … might like some time alone.’

‘You’re probably right,’ says Cathbad. He looks out to sea for a moment, his cloak blowing back in the wind. Ruth is reminded of the first time she saw him, standing on the beach trying to defend the henge, looking as if he could stop the tide itself. Then he turns and he is Cathbad again, a middle-aged man in a cloak, looking slightly sad. ‘When you see Judy,’ he says, ‘will you give her my love?’

‘Of course I will.’

‘I cast the baby’s horoscope, you know, and he’s going to have a full and happy life.’

‘That’s good.’

‘Yes. Yes it is.’

Cathbad looks as if he is about to say more but Kate runs up to them, her little feet soundless on the sand. Cathbad lifts her high above the waves, sadness vanishing momentarily.

‘This is a magical place,’ he says.

‘I know,’ says Ruth. Then, thinking of her prospective holiday, she asks, ‘Is the sand at Blackpool like this?’

‘I don’t know,’ says Cathbad. ‘I’ve never been there.’

Ruth explains about the invitation from Clayton Henry.

‘My friend Pendragon lives in Lancashire,’ says Cathbad. ‘In the Forest of Pendle. It’s an interesting place, by all accounts.’

*

In bed that night, Ruth opens Cathbad’s book and turns to the chapter on ravens. There is a rather horrible illustration of a black bird perching on a skull. She hopes it won’t give her nightmares. As a precaution, she puts on her headphones and tunes in to Bruce Springsteen. The Boss will protect her.

Because of its black plumage, croaking call and diet of carrion, she reads, the raven has long been considered a bird of ill omen. Great, thinks Ruth, I don’t think I’ll buy one as a pet. But, she reads on, the raven is a significant and benevolent figure in many cultures. For some indigenous American tribes Raven is a deity and is known as He Whose Voice Must be Obeyed. In many legends, Raven is a creator figure, sometimes the creator of the world. In Norse mythology (Ruth turns up the sound on her iPod so as not to hear Erik’s voice), the ravens Huginn and Muninn sit on Odin’s shoulders and bring him all the world’s news. The Old English word for raven was hraefn, which also means a premonition of bloodshed. ‘The raven himself is hoarse that croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan under my battlements,’ says Lady Macbeth. And, of course, that visit went spectacularly well.

But the raven is also a trickster god. In the culture of the Pacific Tlingit people, there is a Creator Raven, known as the Owner of Daylight, but there is also a childish Raven, forever performing nasty tricks such as stealing the sun.

According to Livy, the Roman general Marcus Valerius Corvus had a raven settle on his helmet during combat with a gigantic Gaul. The raven flew into his enemy’s face and allowed Marcus to win the fight. Henceforward, the general always had a raven on his flag. The Vikings too often went into battle under the device of the raven. Ragnar Lodbrok had a raven banner called Reafan. It was said that if the banner fluttered, Lodbrok would carry the day. King Harald Hardrada had a raven banner known as Landeythan, the land-waster.

The Norse names are making Ruth’s eyelids droop. She scans the next few pages quickly – Tower of London, Edgar Allen Poe, corvus corax … Then her eyes light on two familiar words.

‘It is sometimes thought (she reads) that King Arthur’s spirit left his body in the form of a raven. For this reason, Arthur is sometimes known as the Raven King.’

King Arthur.

Could Dan possibly have found the body of King Arthur?

Her phone bleeps, alerting her to a text message. She has a bad feeling about this, a premonition, you might say.

Keep away from Pendle. You have been warned.

Tramps like us, sings Bruce Springsteen, baby we were born to run.

CHAPTER 6

‘A summer holiday in Lancashire,’ says Judy. ‘You must be mad.’

‘I haven’t definitely decided to go,’ says Ruth, rather defensively. ‘But I’ve been asked to look at some bones at Pendle University.’

‘Sounds wild,’ says Judy. ‘I went to Southport once. Never again.’

Ruth sighs. She is finding Judy rather hard going. She has popped in on her way home from the dig to see mother and baby. Actually, it was rather a trek from Swaffham and Ruth is feeling that Judy ought to be, well, not grateful exactly, but at least pleased to see her. So far, Judy has not even offered her a cup of tea. It’s another lovely evening but they are sitting in a stuffy sitting room with the windows closed. The air smells of nappy bags. Judy, wearing stained jeans and a man’s shirt, is obviously conforming to the Ruth style of post-birth wardrobe rather than the Shona yummy-mummy look. Ruth doesn’t blame her for this in the least but she does feel that Judy could make some effort. She didn’t even laugh at the latest Clough story. (Last week Clough burst into an illegal gambling den with such force that he fell down two flights of stairs; the den turned out to be the local bridge club.)

‘Has he got a new girlfriend yet?’ asks Judy, with something like a sneer.

‘Nelson says he’s going out with a lap dancer.’

Judy snorts. ‘Wishful thinking. Bet that’s just what Nelson would like to do himself.’

‘I don’t think so,’ says Ruth, appalled at the idea. ‘Nelson’s quite prudish really.’

‘If you say so.’

There is a slight pause. Ruth looks down at the baby, asleep in his Moses basket. His hands are clasped on the crocheted blanket as if he’s praying.

‘Have you thought of a name yet?’ she asks.

‘Yes,’ says Judy.

‘Well, what is it?’ asks Ruth. ‘Are you going to make me play twenty questions?’

Judy looks away. ‘Michael,’ she says, towards the window.

Ruth wonders if she’s heard right. ‘Michael?’

Judy looks back at her, chin raised. ‘Yes, Michael.’

Ruth looks back at the sleeping baby, her mind racing. Why has Judy named her child after Cathbad? Does this mean that Cathbad is the father? Does Judy think that Ruth doesn’t know Cathbad’s real name? Does she suspect that Ruth suspects about Cathbad?

‘It’s a lovely name,’ she says at last. ‘Strong.’

Judy shrugs. ‘He’s got strong lungs at any rate.’

On cue, Michael wakes up and starts crying. Ruth takes the opportunity to escape.

‘I’d better be going,’ she says. ‘Max is coming down tonight.’

‘Romantic evening in, eh?’ says Judy. Her tone is distinctly unfriendly. She picks Michael up and jiggles him against her shoulder. The yelling increases.

‘No,’ says Ruth, gathering up her bag. ‘We’re going out for a meal with Shona and Phil.’

Judy knows how Ruth feels about Phil but she elects to take this as evidence of Ruth’s glamorous baby-free lifestyle. ‘It’s all right for some.’

Ruth has had enough. ‘Bye, Judy,’ she says. ‘Take care of yourself.’

Judy says, in a more conciliatory tone, ‘Do you think you will go to Lancashire?’

‘I’m not sure. I quite fancy the idea of a holiday but it’s a bit of a long drive.’ Judy looks at her over Michael’s fluffy dark head. ‘The boss is going to Blackpool for the summer. Did you know?’

Ruth shakes her head.

‘You might all meet up on the beach,’ says Judy. ‘That would be fun.’

*

Ruth drives to King’s Lynn to collect Kate and then heads off home. She’s tired from the day’s digging and can’t, offhand, think of anything she’d like less than squeezing herself into smart clothes and going out for a meal with her boss and his gorgeous partner. But when she’d told Max he had been surprisingly keen. He’d even offered to come down early on the Friday night. Ruth looks at the clock on the dashboard. Six o’clock. Max might even be there now. He has probably bumped into Cathbad on the doorstep. Cathbad is babysitting tonight.

She feels strangely disturbed by her visit to Judy. It’s not that she expected Judy to be enveloped in a happy cloud of baby love. She can remember the strange, disorientating days of early motherhood too well. But Judy seems odd, almost angry. Is she angry with Cathbad? Herself? With Ruth for being Cathbad’s friend and for having a child with a conveniently invisible father?

And those text messages. At first Ruth had almost been able to convince herself that it was a joke, that some student had got wind of her possible visit and was trying to wind her up. But last night’s message, coming just after all those creepy stories about ravens, had chilled her to the core. You have been warned. Who is warning her and why? And Nelson’s policeman friend thinks that Dan might have been murdered. Should she tell Nelson about the texts? She probably should but she shrinks from it somehow. One way and another, she’s needed Nelson’s help rather a lot over the last few years. She doesn’t want to play the damsel in distress again. It’s not a flattering look for a twelve-stone woman. She takes the turn onto the Saltmarsh road, over-steering slightly and coming dangerously close to the ditch. Get a grip, Ruth. Being rescued by the AA would be only one step up on being rescued by Nelson.

As she approaches her cottage, she sees Cathbad’s ancient Morris parked by the long grass. Max hasn’t arrived yet. A wave of what she doesn’t want to acknowledge as relief sweeps over her. It’s just because I’m tired, she thinks.

Kate wakes up as soon as she sees Cathbad.

‘Piss,’ she shouts ecstatically.

‘Peace, Hecate,’ says Cathbad, leaning in to release her from her car seat. ‘I’m going to look after you tonight.’

‘Please don’t teach her any more words,’ says Ruth.

‘Words are power,’ says Cathbad.

‘I think I can do without the power of piss,’ says Ruth, opening the door.

Ruth makes tea while Kate and Cathbad play on the floor with stickle bricks. Flint watches from a safe distance. It’s all so cosy that Ruth finds herself wishing that she wasn’t going out that evening. That she and Cathbad could get a takeaway and watch Have I Got News For You after Kate has gone to sleep.

‘When’s the demon lover arriving?’ asks Cathbad.

‘Any minute,’ says Ruth, not bothering to rise. She sits on the sofa, fiddling with her phone. It’s a smart model, new last year and she still hasn’t plumbed the depths of its powers. Cathbad watches her from across the room.

‘What’s up?’

It’s no good; Cathbad’s extrasensory powers have been awakened.

‘I saw Judy today.’

Cathbad doesn’t react, just carefully balances a red brick on top of a blue brick. Kate undoes them again.

‘How was she?’ he asks.

‘Fine. The baby’s lovely. He’s …’ She pauses, clicking random buttons on the phone.

‘What? Ruth, what is it?’

Ruth looks up. ‘He’s called Michael.’

Cathbad’s expression of pure joy is painful to see. Ruth almost wishes she hadn’t told him but how could she not?

‘After me?’ he whispers.

‘I don’t know,’ says Ruth, but deep down she thinks that Judy did name her baby after Cathbad. Why else would she be so defensive about it? What does it mean? That Judy is acknowledging Cathbad as Michael’s father or that she’s giving the baby his first name because he’ll never have his last?

‘Do you think she wants to see me?’ asks Cathbad.

‘I don’t know,’ says Ruth. ‘After Kate was born I really wanted to see Nelson. It seemed all wrong that he wasn’t there. But it’s different for Judy. She has a husband.’

‘But who does she love?’ asks Cathbad.

‘Don’t ask me,’ says Ruth. ‘I don’t even know who I love.’

And, as if inspired by druidical sixth sense, Max walks into the room.

*

The evening isn’t too bad. They go to a nice Italian restaurant and Phil doesn’t complain too much about the prices. Shona looks stunning in a pink velvet mini dress but Ruth, in black trousers and a vaguely sparkly top, doesn’t feel too frumpy in comparison. Max and Phil talk easily about the Swaffham dig, about surveying and total stations and the impossibility of gaining English Heritage funding. After a while, Ruth gets fed up with being relegated to baby talk with Shona.

‘I might be involved in an interesting dig soon,’ she says.

‘Really,’ says Phil, his money-making antennae on alert. ‘Anything to do with that guy at Pendle? I was the one who gave him your number.’

What do you want, thinks Ruth, a medal? She hasn’t forgiven Phil for this intrusion on her privacy.

‘Yes. He wants me to give my expert opinion on some bones.’

She stresses the word ‘expert’. God, she must be drunk.

‘Were these the ones found at Ribchester?’ says Phil. ‘He mentioned something about them to me.’

‘Ribchester?’ says Max. ‘That’s a really important Roman site. There have been excavations there since the eighteenth century. It’s a cavalry fort. Very interesting. I’ve dug there myself.’

Ruth doesn’t like the way that Phil turns to Max as if relishing the chance to hear from a real expert. She was the one requested by Dan, she is ‘one of the country’s leading experts on bone preservation’. At that moment, she resolves to go to Pendle.

‘I’m looking forward to seeing it,’ she says, sprinkling parmesan on her pasta.

‘When are you going?’ asks Max. He smiles at her across the table, making Ruth feel ashamed of her annoyance.

‘At the end of July,’ she says, smiling back. ‘When term ends.’

‘Perhaps I could come too,’ says Max. ‘For some of it at least.’

‘That would be great,’ says Ruth, wondering why she doesn’t feel more enthusiastic about the idea. ‘I’m not quite sure when I’m going yet.’

‘Will you take Kate?’ asks Shona. She is leaning against Phil’s shoulder, hair tousled and eyes sparkling. How can she fancy him?

‘I don’t know,’ says Ruth. ‘Depends how long I’ll be there. If it’s only for a few days, I might ask my parents to look after her. They’d love it.’

This is true. There is nothing Ruth’s parents would like better than to get their hands on Kate while she is still young enough to brainwash.

‘You should go,’ says Phil, pouring himself more wine without offering it round. ‘It’s been a while since you’ve done any original research, hasn’t it?’

*

Ruth feels rather embarrassed, coming home with Max to find Cathbad on the sofa watching Graham Norton. It’s as if she and Max are carrying a huge banner saying ‘We’re just about to have sex’. Max is rather tactful, though. He goes into the kitchen to make tea, leaving Ruth and Cathbad to talk.

‘How was Kate?’ asks Ruth. She has sobered up at bit but is still finding it an effort not to slur her words.

‘Fine. Not a peep out of her.’

‘It was very kind of you to babysit.’

‘Not at all. I enjoyed it.’ He gets up and reaches for his jacket. Ruth feels rather sad that he isn’t wearing his cloak.

‘Bye, Cathbad,’ says Max from the kitchen. ‘See you soon.’

At the doorway, Cathbad turns and says, with elaborate casualness. ‘Oh, Ruth. If you are going to Lancashire, I’d love to go with you.’