The Ghost Fields (Ruth Galloway) (36 page)

Ruth isn’t much of a cook at the best of times but having to prepare a meal for two men – both of them strangers and one of them dotty – in an unfamiliar kitchen is testing her to the limit. Not to mention that they are completely cut off from the rest of the world and Ruth’s friend is about to give birth accompanied by an ex-nurse and a possible murderer. It’s not the most restful of scenarios.

Ruth looks in the fridge and the larder and decides on shepherd’s pie. At least it can be made in one pan and she even finds a packet of Smash, which will save her mashing potatoes. Both Georges come into the kitchen to watch her cook, which is rather disconcerting. But at least Young George pours her a large glass of red wine. ‘You’re not going to be driving tonight,’ he says, which seems a pretty good bet. Her car is probably submerged by now. Oh poor Renault, how could I do this to you? Going outside to see if she can get a phone signal, Ruth steps in several inches of water. The house is now completely surrounded. Ruth remembers a Winnie-the-Pooh story which she used to read to Kate, Something like ‘In which Winnie-the-Pooh is Entirely Surrounded by Water’. She seems to remember that he escapes in an empty honey jar. Or is it an upturned umbrella? Either way, she could do with some friendly talking toys coming to her aid.

As she cooks, Young George talks to her about Norfolk and archaeology and other dinner-party subjects. Old George stares gloomily into his whisky (Ruth has her doubts about the wisdom of giving him spirits). Father and son don’t seem to have much of a relationship. It occurs to Ruth that every time she has seen Old George in distress it was Sally that he turned to. Sally seems to have appointed herself her father-in-law’s carer. Maybe that’s because of her nursing background, maybe she is just nicer than the rest of the family.

The shepherd’s pie is OK. The reconstituted potato tastes slightly musty but otherwise it is perfectly edible. The Blackstocks eat without comment. Presumably they are used to women putting food in front of them. Young George does at least load the dishwasher afterwards. Old George just pours himself more whisky.

‘Would you like a nightcap, Ruth?’ Young George asks. ‘Brandy? Whisky?’

‘No thanks,’ says Ruth. ‘I’m just going outside to see if I can get a signal.’ She has to stop herself from adding, ‘I may be some time.’

There are some gumboots by the back door so Ruth puts them on. This is a wise move – previously there was a step down onto the gravel path but now the water is level with the doorway. George has placed some sandbags against the door but Ruth wonders how long it will be before the kitchen is flooded. It is still raining. Ruth steps over the sandbags and teeters on the back step holding her phone up to the sky. No signal and only a thin red line of battery. About a metre away, a boulder is sticking up out of the water. It’s quite smooth and flat; maybe it was a mounting block or something once. Ruth jumps onto it, almost missing her footing and ending up in the murky depths. On her perch she gets a faint signal. She also has another missed call from Nelson. Well, she only has enough battery for one call. She clicks onto the name Cathbad. He answers immediately.

‘Any news?’

‘Not yet.’ How will she get news anyway? The landline is useless and Ruth can only get a signal standing on a boulder outside the back door. She doesn’t say this to Cathbad.

‘How’s Kate?’ she says.

‘Fine. She and Michael are fast asleep. I said they could sleep in their den tonight.’

Typical Cathbad. Ruth would have insisted on a proper bed but she’s sure that sleeping on the floor for one night won’t hurt Kate.

‘How are the floods round your way?’

‘Pretty bad. It’s an unusually high tide, that’s what’s done it. You could swim down the coast road.’

‘Blackstock Hall is completely cut off. It feels very strange.’

‘Are you OK?’ Ruth is touched to hear the concern in Cathbad’s voice. Even with his worry over Judy and the baby, he still has some left over for her.

‘I’m fine. I’m here with George Blackstock and his dad. Old George. I’ve just had to cook supper for them.’

‘Be careful, Ruth.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘It’s just . . . Hazel says that Old George can be a bit strange. Are you staying at the Hall tonight?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, make sure you lock your door.’

The landlord thinks that they’re mad.

‘You’ll never get home in this,’ he says. ‘Why don’t you stay here? After all, you’ve got a room booked. Non-refundable,’ he adds, just to make this clear.

‘I’ve got to get back,’ says Michelle. ‘Family emergency.’

She looks calm now. She has even tied her hair back. Tim thinks that she looks like a different woman from the maenad in the bedroom. They have hardly spoken since Michelle announced her intention of going home. But there is something compelling about Michelle’s determination. Tim watches the landlord quailing under the force of her stare.

‘Yes, of course . . .’ he mutters. ‘I’ll get the bill.’

While Tim pays the bill (Michelle offered to pay half but he rejected this angrily), Michelle goes to the loo. She leaves her phone on the reception desk. Tim picks it up and is suddenly seized by an uncontrollable desire to know what Nelson said in his text, the text that caused their romantic night away to collapse into tears, recriminations and a long, dangerous drive home. Keeping one eye on the door, he clicks on her messages.

But even after reading it he is none the wiser. The text reads simply:
R u ok luv?

‘Sleep wherever you like,’ says Young George, waving a hand airily at the corridor of closed doors. ‘All the beds are made up. My room’s over there and Dad’s next door.’

Then I’ll be as far away from you as possible, thinks Ruth. She remembers Sally talking about the strain of making all the beds. She’s pretty sure that she didn’t get any help from her husband or father-in-law.

Ruth tries a couple of doors. The rooms all look similar, neat and tidy but with evidence of recent occupation. She wonders which room Frank slept in. But in the third room she sees something which puts all other thoughts out of her head. An iPhone charger. She plugs in her phone and, as it buzzes, she feels as if she too is connected to life again. It’s terrible really, being so dependent on a phone. She’s sure that Nelson would have something to say about it. She wonders why he was calling earlier. Well, when her phone has charged up sufficiently, she’ll creep downstairs and try to get a signal. The thought of tiptoeing through the dark house doesn’t exactly fill her with joy. It’s very cold in the room. She takes off her shoes and gets into the bed fully clothed.

Tim’s car is sturdy and reassuring. They manage the first few miles without much trouble. The roads are wet and sometimes Tim has to drive through deep puddles but he takes it slowly and the car keeps its grip on the road. Once they see a truck full of sheep that have probably been rescued from the flooded fields but otherwise they are on their own. Neither of them speaks and the windscreen wipers beat a slow, steady pulse. But, as they get nearer to the coast, they start to see signs saying ‘Road closed’. Michelle has left her car at Blakeney but it becomes clear that they can’t get near to the town. They stop by a roadblock, hazard lights flashing.

‘I’ll drive you home,’ says Tim. ‘I’m sure we can get there across country. You can pick up your car tomorrow.’

‘But I need my car,’ says Michelle. ‘What will Harry say?’

‘You said that he’d be away on the course for two days.’ You said a lot of things, he can’t help thinking.

Michelle is silent, chewing a strand of her hair. It reminds Tim of his sister when she was young.

‘Come on,’ he says. ‘It’ll be all right. I’ll get you home.’

Nelson finally gets home at midnight. He is so tired that he has parked his car and let himself into the house before he realises that Michelle’s car is not outside. He goes to the window. The street is quiet and rainwater is running merrily along the gutters but Michelle’s little car is nowhere to be seen. He climbs the stairs two at a time.

‘Michelle? Where are you, love?’

Their bed is neatly made and the room smells, as always, of Michelle’s scent. But of Michelle herself there’s no sign. He checks the girls’ rooms (he still calls them that) and the spare. It is fully five minutes before he admits to himself that he is alone in the house.

Ruth must have fallen asleep. She is dreaming of floods, of airplanes falling through the sky, of Kate and Michael asleep in their den like little bear cubs. She wakes with start because someone is speaking to her. Has the radio come on? Is it morning? She sits up, rubbing her eyes.

Old George is sitting by her bed.

CHAPTER 34

She realises that the old man is speaking, that he has probably been speaking for some time.

‘I killed Fred because I thought Lewis was dead,’ he is saying. ‘We thought he’d been killed in Japan. I thought the whole place was mine and then Fred came back to ruin everything.’

Ruth stays very still. Moonlight is coming through the open curtains and it glitters on Old George’s cloudy eyes. He is wearing pyjamas and a dressing gown, like a sweet old grandfather. But if one thing is becoming clear, it’s that George Blackstock senior is not sweet at all.

‘I was eighteen,’ he says. ‘I’d finished school and was waiting for my call-up. I was in the orchard cleaning Lewis’s gun. I thought, if he’d died, it belonged to me. Everything belonged to me. Then Fred just appeared, walking up the hill from the sea. I thought he was a ghost at first. We were told that he was dead, that he’d drowned when his plane went down. But there he was, standing in front of me. He looked terrible, his uniform all muddy and torn, a gash over one eye. He told me that he’d survived the crash, that he’d swam to shore but had been too weak to go further. He’d slept rough for a few nights, in ditches and so forth, and then walked all the way to the Hall. “I couldn’t think where else to go,” he said. “I hate this place but it’s home.” So I shot him.’

‘Why?’ whispers Ruth.

‘I told you,’ says George calmly, ‘I wanted the place to myself. Lewis was dead, Fred had abandoned the family, going to live in America like that. It broke my mother’s heart. I deserved to inherit the Hall. I was the only one who really loved it. So I shot Fred with Lewis’s gun. I think he died immediately. I hope so. I wouldn’t have wanted him to suffer,’ he adds piously.

‘What did you do then?’

‘I buried him in the pets’ burial ground. The soil was still loose because we’d just buried Trumpeter, Dad’s old fox terrier. I dug a fresh hole, wrapped Fred’s body in an old tarpaulin and put him in. It was hard work but I was strong then.’

He smiles to himself. Ruth wonders whether she should get out of bed and run for it. But where would she go? George starts speaking again. ‘That was the problem. Lewis wasn’t dead, he came back. He was a bit mad though. Mother said we had to treat him gently. I was just biding my time. Then his dog died. Poor old Bingo. Lewis buried him in the pets’ burial ground and he found Fred’s body. Sent him right off the rails. He just disappeared, made a run for it. Annoying for me because I had to wait years before he was declared dead. Mind you, if he’d stayed, I would have killed him too. So it was all for the best.’

‘But he wasn’t dead,’ Ruth can’t help reminding him.

‘No,’ says George. ‘That was a bit of a shock, his son turning up like that. But we got rid of him, didn’t we?’

Who is ‘we’? wonders Ruth. She’s pretty sure that George can’t have killed Patrick on his own, much less attacked Clough. He must have an accomplice. Who is it?

‘I wanted to tell you,’ says George, ‘because you deserve to know how your dad died. It’s been on my conscience a bit, to tell you the truth. I suppose I’m getting old, thinking about meeting my maker and all that stuff. I wanted to confess. Sally said not to bother you, but she’s away so I thought we should have a chat.’

He thinks I’m Nell, Ruth realises. This must be her room. If Sally told her father-in-law not to bother Nell, does that mean that she knows the truth about his murderous past? Is she his accomplice as well as his carer? She is just wondering how she can ask George without alerting him to the fact that she’s not Nell when the old man gets to his feet.

‘I’ll be off then,’ he says. ‘I’m glad we had this little chat. I’ll sleep well now.’