The Ghost Fields (Ruth Galloway) (22 page)

Ruth barely has time to notice that Frank has skated over the fact that Fred was not, in fact, the pilot of D for Dog and that the real pilot’s body was found a few hundred yards away. She thinks of the ten men standing beside the Flying Fortress. The
Shamrock
and her crew are clearly not going to feature in Paul’s version of events. Instead she tells Frank about the plane unearthed by Edward Spens’s driver in Devil’s Hollow.

‘How did you know you had found the remains of a World War Two aircraft?’ asks Frank, turning towards her with his easy, on-screen intimacy. But what if it’s not just for the camera? Despite herself, Ruth feels her heart beating faster. God, she hopes she isn’t going red.

‘The soil had a bluish tinge,’ she says, ‘which comes from corroded aluminium. It’s sometimes called Daz because it’s meant to look like blue washing powder and it’s typical of this sort of wreckage. Then we saw the cockpit, which was still intact. There was a body inside.’

‘That must have been quite some moment.’

‘Yes. It gave the digger driver an awful shock.’ Will Americans understand the word ‘digger’? Well, she can’t worry about that now. She thinks of the moment when she looked through the glass and saw the figure sitting in the pilot’s seat. Paul has told her not to mention her doubts about how long the body had been in the ground or about the bullet hole in the skull (‘This is meant to be a heart-warming story, not
Murder She Wrote
’), but she can’t help injecting a note of caution when Frank asks her about the body.

‘I thought the skin was remarkably well preserved for human remains buried in chalky ground,’ she says. ‘The plane had actually landed in an old chalk pit.’

‘But DNA analysis proved that the remains were those of Frederick Blackstock?’

‘Yes,’ Ruth admits. ‘It did.’

‘Cut,’ says Paul. ‘Well done, Ruth. It’s cute that you’re so British and unemotional.’

‘Is it?’ says Ruth.

But Paul has moved away to film the wild geese flying low over the marshes. Ruth doesn’t doubt that this will come complete with some analogy about flight and freedom and the green fields of England. A runner offers her a lift up to the house (‘There’s tea and coffee and a selection of muffins’) and she accepts gratefully. It may be a perfect autumn day but it’s still very cold, especially when you’ve been hanging around for ages in a light jacket because your anorak makes you look like a barrage balloon. Besides, she’s always wanted to go in a golf cart.

In Chaz Blackstock’s surprisingly spartan kitchen she finds the rest of the Blackstocks, together with Cathbad’s friend Hazel. He seems to be on very good terms with Chaz.

‘Have you done your bit?’ asks Nell. ‘I’m terrified about next week.’

‘It’s not too bad,’ says Ruth, accepting a cup of tea from Chaz. ‘You’ll be fine.’

‘TV reduces everything to the lowest common denominator,’ complains Blake. ‘I heard that presenter fellow giving the dates of World War Two. Surely everyone knows that?’

Ruth has heard it said that Americans think that the war dates from 1941 to1945 but she decides not to say this.

‘I liked Paul,’ says Cassie, who is sitting on the kitchen table, fetchingly attired in jeans and a Swedish crime girl jumper. ‘He wants to interview me about my memories of Uncle Fred.’

‘It would be remarkable if you had any, my dear,’ says Blake, ‘considering that he died about forty years before you were born.’

‘I mean family memories,’ says Cassie, batting her eyelashes at him. ‘I’m sure Grandpa has some.’

‘He’s even asked me to be in his film,’ laughs Hazel. ‘I think I fulfil the role of harmless English eccentric.’

It would be easy to write Hazel off as an eccentric, thinks Ruth, but, as with Cathbad, this would be a mistake. She remembers that Hazel had been one of the druids who had protested against the henge dig. They had been passionately committed to their cause and actually rather frightening.

She addresses Hazel now. ‘Are you going to mention the Bronze Age burials?’

Hazel smiles at her. He’s really rather attractive in a grungy way. ‘I certainly am. I’m going to say that all the land around Blackstock Hall is a sacred landscape and that Edward Spens builds his ghastly housing estate at his own risk.’

‘Good luck with that,’ says Chaz gloomily. ‘I went down there yesterday and the building work’s pretty advanced.’

Interesting that Chaz keeps such a close watch on the site, thinks Ruth. He’s the one who really knows this land best and loves it the most. And his sister, of course. Ruth looks at Cassandra and is surprised to see her face brighten as if lit from within.

‘Dave!’ she says in delight.

‘Hallo, all,’ says a familiar voice. ‘Guess who turns out to be related to the Blackstocks?’

Clough has joined the party.

Somehow Paul produces pizzas for lunch. Ruth has no idea how he has found a company that delivers out to the wilds of North Norfolk but the pizzas arrive in bona fide cardboard boxes, still hot and surprisingly good. They eat in the kitchen, Nell, Blake, Chaz and Paul at the table and the rest of the family and crew perched on work surfaces or sitting on the floor. Phil turns up in time for lunch and is busy suggesting to Paul that he might be able to fill in ‘some of the general archaeological background’. Paul seems unconvinced.

Ruth finds herself wedged between Frank and the fridge.

‘This is cosy,’ he says with a grin.

Ruth agrees that it is. She had intended to play it cool today, to be the mysterious, aloof professional. But it’s impossible to be a woman of mystery while eating a slice of pepperoni pizza. Besides, she’s worried about falling off the kitchen cabinet. It’s all right for Frank; his legs are so long that they’re practically touching the floor.

‘It’s nice to see the family so involved,’ says Frank, looking over to where Nell and Blake are showing the crew photographs of their grandchildren.

‘Yes,’ says Ruth. ‘I think it means a lot to Nell, seeing the place where her father was stationed.’

‘Do you know if the family had any idea that he was here at the time?’

‘I don’t think so,’ says Ruth. ‘From something Old George – Fred’s brother – said, I don’t think they knew he was based here until they got the news of his death. Odd that he didn’t get in touch.’

‘There was probably some kind of family rift,’ says Frank. ‘I guess we’ll never really know.’ There’s a pause and then he says, ‘It’s hard to imagine, isn’t it? Living here, at Lockwell Heath. Having a drink in the officer’s mess, playing some sport – apparently there were squash courts here too – all the time knowing that you might die any day, that you probably would die before you got much older. Their courage must have been extraordinary.’

‘Yes,’ says Ruth, thinking of the pictures she had seen of the men and their planes. ‘It’s hard to get much sense of what this place would have been like . . . then.’

‘There’s a mural in one of the farm buildings,’ says Frank. ‘Chaz says it was painted by one of the crew of the 444th.’ He calls over to Chaz, ‘Is it OK if I show Ruth the mural?’

‘Be my guest,’ says Chaz. ‘I think Paul’s going to film it later. Isn’t that right?’

‘I sure am,’ says Paul. ‘The viewers will love it.’

In the hall, they pass Clough and Cassie sitting on the stairs. They look extraordinarily comfortable together, thinks Ruth. Clough is leaning back on his elbows and Cassie is whispering something in his ear, her long dark hair falling forward. They don’t appear to notice Ruth and Frank leaving. Ruth is relieved; she doesn’t want Clough reporting back to Nelson. What is Clough doing here anyway? Isn’t he meant to be working?

Outside, the runway seems to be full of cars. Ruth recognises the camera van and Clough’s sporty Saab. The vehicles give the farm an oddly purposeful air and make it easier to imagine it as it would have been during the war, a hive of activity and enterprise, lights shining all night and the fields full of winged monsters. Earlier, on camera, Frank had demonstrated the wingspan of one of the bombers, ‘as wide as ten men standing abreast’. They must have looked awe-inspiring, thinks Ruth, like the
Angel of the North
. Terrifying too.

Frank leads the way past the hangars to a brick-built building standing on its own at the edge of a field. ‘Chaz thinks this was part of the operations block,’ he says. ‘There were barracks here too and a cafeteria and the squash court. You can see some of the walls.’ Ruth looks at the field, where several large pigs are snuffling happily. She sees that they are snuffling past squares of concrete that still have a few bricks standing here and there. It’s hard to imagine a whole complex of buildings here. This part of the airbase has thoroughly gone back to nature; the pigs are in control now. It’s like a scene from
Animal Farm
. The last remaining building looks lopsided and incomplete, almost apologetic.

‘Chaz stores hay in here,’ says Frank. ‘It’s quite damp, unfortunately, which has affected the paint.’

When Frank opens the door, Ruth almost cries out in surprise. The mural is mildewed and faded but still the effect is startling – an entire wall has been painted to show a blue sky upon which yellow planes dive and turn. Near the foot of the wall a series of squares represents the airbase. The biggest square is proudly flying the Stars and Stripes.

‘They think it shows US Liberators in a dogfight with German Dorniers,’ says Frank. ‘See, that plane is on its way down.’ Ruth sees that a plane emblazoned with a swastika is heading vertically downwards, towards a sticky confrontation with a rather stylised tree. She thinks of the plane in Devil’s Hollow, its surprisingly gentle trajectory, its shocking cargo.

‘Do we know who painted it?’ she asks.

‘It’s not signed,’ says Frank, ‘but there’s something that may be a clue.’ He points to the top right-hand corner where, almost hidden by encroaching mildew, a small dog sits on a cloud.

‘It may be a reference to the artist’s name or nickname,’ says Frank. ‘I’m going to look through the list of personnel at the airbase to see if I can uncover anything. What do you think of the painting?’

‘It’s very . . . evocative,’ says Ruth. This is true. The brushwork may be crude, the planes out of perspective and the figures barely more than stick men but there’s something about the work of the unknown airman that brings back the past more effectively than any documentary or reconstruction. For a moment Ruth feels that if she were to pull open the rusty iron door she would find a bustling airbase, full of grim-faced men in blue uniforms, and not a sleepy Norfolk farm with pigs grunting amongst the fallen leaves.

‘Ruth,’ says Frank, bringing her crashing back to the present, ‘we need to talk. Are you free for supper tonight?’

‘I’ve got to pick Kate up from the childminder.’ It’s half-term, a holiday which previously had gone unnoticed in Ruth’s calendar but now presents all sorts of logistical challenges.

‘I could come with you. We could all go out together.’

‘No.’ Ruth can just imagine how that would look to Sandra. ‘I don’t think so. I’ve got a lot of marking to do.’

‘What about Friday?’

‘It’s Kate’s birthday.’ She’ll be five, something that doesn’t seem quite possible to Ruth. They are planning to celebrate it with Judy and Michael, swimming followed by pizza.

‘Tomorrow then. Thursday. Please. I’d really like to spend some time with you.’

What can Ruth say except, ‘All right then’?

CHAPTER 21

Ruth had forgotten that Thursday is Halloween. Kate’s birthday is the next day, All Saints’ Day, and over the years this brighter festival has come to eclipse its dark forerunner. Ruth only remembers the date when Cathbad opens the door wearing a skeleton mask.

‘Woo!’ he says, waving his arms wildly. This is for Kate’s benefit and she squeals with delighted fright. Thing hides behind Ruth. He’s very timid for a bull terrier.

‘Hi, Kate,’ Judy appears in the background. ‘Come in. Michael’s waiting for you. Happy Halloween,’ she says to Ruth, ‘I’ve come as the Incredible Hulk, as you can see.’

‘You look great,’ says Ruth but, in truth, Judy does suddenly look a lot bigger. Ruth remembers this from her own pregnancy. After the first queasy months, you get quite used to being pregnant and feel you could carry on indefinitely. Then, just at the end, Nature weighs in to remind you why you have to give birth – you suddenly become huge and uncomfortable and you can’t sleep because a tiny foot is kicking you from the inside. Judy looks like she has reached that stage, though by Ruth’s calculations she still has a month to go.