Ruth Galloway (89 page)

Anyway, tonight she's one up on Clough. The boss called her, not him. It's because of the car, she knows, but that just shows she was right to buy a four-by-four. Sucks to Clough and his flashy Saab. The boss asked her for help and he'll be eternally grateful for … what exactly? Up to this point, the idea of being the heroine of the hour has taken her mind off the fact that she has no idea what this crisis is all about. Why is it so urgent that she has to drive to Ruth's house across icy roads, forcing entry if necessary? Is Ruth's baby in danger? But there's someone babysitting isn't there? ‘A girl called Clara,' Nelson had said tersely. ‘If she gives you any trouble, arrest her.' ‘What?' ‘Just do it, Judy, please.'

Please. He'd actually said please. And he'd called her Judy. Usually it's ‘Johnson' or ‘you'. A suspicion, which has been fluttering around in Judy's brain since the naming day ceremony, now flaps its wings once again. Why is Nelson so concerned about Ruth's baby? Clough told her about the incident at Broughton. The boss falling asleep with the baby in his arms. What if … no, it's impossible.

New Road is a nightmare. One slip, Judy knows, and she'll plunge the car down the bank and will probably never be seen again. She grips the steering wheel. She's a good driver (much to her satisfaction she beat Clough on the police advanced driving course) but this is something else. She crawls forward, listening to the snow crunching beneath her wheels. One lapse of concentration, that's all it will take.

When she sees it, she thinks at first that she is hallucinating. A dark hooded figure, trudging along at the side of
the road. Who on earth would be walking along New Road through foot-high snow? Then she starts to panic. Her head spins with images of mysterious figures that appear beside unwary travellers, of car-crash victims who suddenly materialise on your back seat, grinning through their mangled faces, the third man – the hooded man – Christ on the road to Emmaus. She hears her breath, loud and uneven, filling the car. She checks her driving mirror. Pull yourself together, she tells herself. But the ragged breathing continues.

She is almost level now. What if the vision vanishes into the snow? What if it turns, brandishing an axe?

The figure turns, pulling the hood away from its face. It is Cathbad.

*

‘I love her so much. I never thought I would love a baby this much.'

‘I know.' Nelson strokes her hair.

‘What if something happens to her?'

‘It won't.'

‘How do you know?'

Nelson says nothing. She can feel his heart beating through the thin T-shirt. She shivers.

‘You're freezing. Get into bed.'

‘Don't leave me,' says Ruth.

‘I won't.'

*

‘Cathbad!' Judy winds down the window, with difficulty because it is covered with snow. ‘What the hell are you doing here?'

‘Don't switch off the engine,' says Cathbad. With a deft
movement he opens the door and jumps nimbly into the high vehicle.

‘Are you going to Ruth's?' asks Judy, closing the window and edging forward once more.

‘Where else?' Cathbad is shivering even though, under his cloak, he is sensibly dressed in a parka and combat trousers.

‘She's not there.'

‘I know.'

‘Then why?'

Cathbad calmly adjusts the seat so he can stretch his legs. ‘I don't know. I just had this feeling. I rang earlier and I got a bad feeling about the girl who answered the phone.'

‘A bad feeling? Jesus, Cathbad.'

‘Why are
you
here?'

‘Nelson had a bad feeling about her too.'

‘Ah.' Cathbad sounds satisfied. ‘So Nelson's starting to trust his instincts. That's good.'

‘Is it?'

‘For him, anyway. Careful.' The car begins to slide.

‘It's icy here.'

‘The temperature's dropping.'

No second sight needed there. Judy's dashboard says minus five degrees. The windscreen wipers scrape against ice. Judy can see only a few yards in front of her face.

‘You were mad to try to walk it,' she says.

‘There's a pleasure sure in being mad,' says Cathbad, ‘that none but madmen know.'

It's a typical Cathbad answer. Judy decides to ignore it, she needs all her concentration for driving. Cathbad seems
perfectly relaxed, humming under his breath. Last year, he was involved in a car chase with the boss. If he can survive that, nothing will faze him. Despite everything, though, Judy is glad to have company. The Saltmarsh, featureless in the dark, is a spooky place. The presence of another human, even one prone to irritatingly gnomic utterances, is indescribably comforting.

Ruth's cottage seems to come from nowhere. One minute they are crawling along through the unchanging white nothingness, the next, the blue gate is beside them and they can see the three houses, their roofs rounded with snow. The security light comes on as they park outside. Everything else is in complete darkness. It is two a.m.

‘The houses either side are empty,' says Cathbad.

‘I know.' Judy switches off the engine. ‘I wouldn't live here in a million years.'

Outside it is so cold that Judy feels her heart clench with shock. Cathbad, though, seems fully recovered. He jumps down and makes for the front door. The wind is stronger here and the snow has formed fantastically shaped drifts, almost as high as the windows.

‘Shall I knock? The bell's not working.'

‘Cathbad?' Judy hates herself for this but she's scared. Suddenly too scared to move another step. ‘What if—' She stops.

Cathbad takes her hands. Despite the cold, his hands are very warm. ‘Judy,' he says. ‘You are strong. You are a wonderful, strong human being.'

And the weird thing is, she does feel strong. Strong enough
to wrench herself free from Cathbad and hammer on the door. ‘Open up!'

The sound echoes inside the house. Then silence. Judy and Cathbad look at each other.

‘We'll have to force the door,' says Judy. ‘I've got a crowbar in the jeep.'

Cathbad holds up his hand. ‘Shh.'

Very slowly, the door opens. The chain is still on and a small voice calls, ‘Who is it?'

‘Police.' With shaking hands, Judy pushes her warrant card through the gap in the door.

There is a rattle as the chain comes off and they see a blonde girl, very young and scared, a blanket wrapped round her shoulders.

‘I'm Sergeant Judy Johnson. DCI Nelson sent me.'

‘I know you, don't I?' says Clara. ‘You were at the party the other night.'

‘Where's the baby?'

‘Upstairs.'

Judy bounds up the narrow stairs. She isn't scared now, adrenaline rushes though her. Whatever she is about to see – and during the drive she has imagined every horror possible – she can cope with it. She flings open the door to Ruth's bedroom and can just make out the cot by the bed. She switches on the overhead light and strides across the room. Kate is lying on her side, a pink blanket pulled up to her chin. She is breathing steadily. Judy takes off her glove and touches the baby's cheek. It is warm. Kate whimpers.

‘What's going on?' Clara is standing behind her. She still sounds scared.

‘You didn't answer your phone. DCI Nelson was worried.' Judy is already punching in his number.

‘I was asleep.'

‘Boss? … Yes, she's fine, I'm looking at her now … of course I'm sure … yes, I'll tell her … okay.'

Clara is looking at her, almost in awe. ‘How did you get here?'

‘I've got a four-by-four.'

‘Why is that druid with you?'

‘I'll explain in a minute. Any chance of some tea?'

But when they get downstairs the druid has already made tea. The sofa is covered with bedclothes so they sit at the table by the window. There is an odd intimacy between the three of them, sitting at Ruth's table, in Ruth's house, drinking Ruth's tea. Looking after Ruth's baby. Clara cradles her mug in both hands, staring dreamily into space. Cathbad puts two sugars in Judy's cup, which is odd because he hasn't asked whether she takes sugar. She does.

‘Did you tell Nelson?' he says.

‘Yes.'

‘Did he say thank you?'

‘No.'

‘Was Ruth with him?'

Judy catches Cathbad's eye. ‘Yes.'

‘The boss wants me to stay the night,' Judy says to Clara. ‘Is that okay with you?'

Clara shrugs. ‘Suit yourself. There are two beds upstairs. A single and a double.' She looks curiously from Judy to Cathbad.

‘I'll take the double,' says Judy.

*

Ruth is leaning forward, her head between her knees. Nelson's voice seems to come from a long way off.

‘Are you feeling any better?'

‘Yes.' With an effort, Ruth straightens up. ‘It's just the relief. Knowing that she's safe.'

‘I know.' Nelson runs his hand though his hair until it stands up like a crest. He's quite grey now, Ruth notices. His chin is dark with stubble. It must be nearly morning, she thinks.

‘What did Judy say again?'

‘She'd seen Kate. She was sleeping peacefully.'

‘And Clara?'

‘She'd been asleep on the sofa.'

‘Do you think she might have killed Dieter Eckhart?'

‘It's possible.' Nelson rubs his face. ‘Stabbing is usually a crime of passion. You say she'd written in her diary that she wanted to kill him?'

‘Yes. I didn't read any more.' Ruth points at the little book on the bedside table.

‘I'll take that with me tomorrow. The scissors too, though they'll have our prints all over them.'

Ruth shudders. ‘I still don't like to think of her in the house with Kate.'

‘I told Judy that she or Cathbad had to sleep in the room with her.'

‘What on earth was Cathbad doing there?'

Nelson shrugs. ‘You know Cathbad. He always turns up when you least expect him.'

They both think of other occasions when Cathbad has turned up, just in time to save or be saved. Cathbad is magic,
Erik used to say. He certainly seems able to materialise at will.

‘I should go back to my room,' says Nelson. He picks up Ruth's watch from the bedside table. Half past two.

‘Yes,' she says. But neither of them moves.

Ruth thinks that Nelson says something under his breath, but she doesn't hear. She shuts her eyes, moving towards Nelson as his lips close upon hers.

In the end, Judy opts for the single bed. She just doesn't like the idea of sharing a room with a baby. What if Kate wakes up crying? That, to Judy, is more terrifying than the hooded figure on the road.

‘It's all right,' says Cathbad. ‘I'll sleep in there.'

‘I'm sorry,' says Judy. ‘I'm just not very maternal.'

Cathbad looks at her. ‘I wouldn't say that.'

‘Do you have children?' asks Judy.

‘A daughter.' Cathbad's voice drops. ‘I didn't see much of her when she was growing up. I'm trying to make up for it now.'

They are standing, whispering, on the landing. This, like the snow and the tea earlier, makes them seem ridiculously intimate, as if they're flatmates or having what Judy's nieces would call a ‘sleepover'.

‘I'm not sure I want children,' she says. ‘It's such a responsibility.'

‘What does your fiancé think?'

Judy hesitates. How does Cathbad know she's getting
married? Has he noticed her engagement ring? There's something nasty about the way he says ‘fiancé'.

‘We've never discussed it,' she says, with dignity.

Cathbad grins. ‘I'd start discussing it, if I were you.' And he disappears into Ruth's room.

Judy washes in the bathroom, noticing that Ruth uses surprisingly expensive soap. What is it about Cathbad that always makes her feel slightly uneasy? She first met him over a year ago. Nelson had needed to get across the Saltmarsh at night, in a storm, and Cathbad had been the only person to know the mysterious hidden pathway. Judy had been impressed with him then. She did not, like the rest of the team, see him as a nutcase, one of the weirdos that often hang around police stations offering unsolicited help and advice. There is a stillness about Cathbad that attracts Judy. He is contained within himself; he doesn't see the need to seek approval from anyone else. Darren is like a big golden retriever, rushing round and licking everyone. Like me, love me, pat me. And, yes, he wants ten children.

The next time Judy met Cathbad had been at a summer solstice party at the Roman dig at Swaffham. It had been a fairly wild night, she remembers. She had danced with Cathbad but then she had danced with Dave and Irish Ted too. She has an image of Cathbad lighting a fire, high up on a hill. The flames in the darkness, the druids chanting, the scent of burning herbs. Ruth had been there with her archaeologist friend, Max. What had happened to him?

It was only at the naming day party that she had really spoken to Cathbad. They had talked about Catholicism and
paganism and the role of godparents. Judy tries to remember whether she told him that she was getting married. She does remember that she'd found him quite attractive at the naming day, which she hadn't before. What was different?

The spare room is tiny, just a single bed, a chest of drawers and a wardrobe. The rest of the space is taken up with cardboard boxes, stacked one on top of each other. It's not exactly cosy. The top of the chest is crowded with creams and make-up. Jesus, no wonder Tatjana looks so good. There is also a book written in some incomprehensible language and a picture of a beautiful, dark-eyed child. Judy picks up this last and examines it. She spent a long time chatting to Tatjana after her hen party and she never mentioned that she had a child. She turns the photo over. On the back, in a flowing hand, is written ‘Jacob 1995'.