The Outcast Dead (29 page)

‘We haven’t seen that much of each other recently,’ she says. ‘But we are close. Yes.’

‘I’d like to meet him.’

Ruth finds herself blushing again. She imagines the pink clashing horribly with the orange. What does
that
mean? That Frank wants to get to know her family? That he likes spending time with random English people? Maybe he’s just missing his own children. As she thinks this, she sees Kate on her donkey and has a sudden excruciating pang for Judy. She simply must check her phone.

‘Are you OK?’ asks Frank. ‘You look a bit worried.’

Ruth opens her mouth. She wants to tell Frank that she’s tired and sad, that she can’t work up any enthusiasm for night digs or Mother Hook while her friend’s baby is missing. But just as she is about to speak, Mary-Anne removes the towel with a flourish.

‘There you are, Ruth. All finished.’

‘Come on,’ says Frank. ‘Let’s go and join the action.’

*

Outside, the excitement is mounting. The arc lights make the castle look unreal, like a stage set. Ruth thinks again of a siege. The shadowy figures scurrying across the bridge could be an army ready to attack, the giant wheeled cameras battering rams and trebuchets. Ruth wonders if the castle has seen anything like this in all its nine-hundred-year history. Surely William Rufus and gang can never have imagined a time when their fortress would be invaded by make-up artists and sound systems engineers. The medieval overlords who turned the place into a prison could never have thought that the mere memory of one of those prisoners would be enough to create this jamboree, this modern
son et lumière
.

She checks her phone. No messages.

By the castle wall Corinna, wearing a black hooded cape that makes her look like a Scottish Widow, is being filmed talking straight to camera. Ruth can’t hear what she’s saying but she’s got a good idea that it will include the words ‘horror’, ‘evil’ and ‘monstrous.’ Frank watches with a half smile on his face. They cross the bridge and approach Dani’s dig. It’s being set up near the seating area where the service for the Outcast Dead was held, but now the space has been transformed into an arena of bright lights and white tents. The finds are going to be examined live on camera. ‘What if there aren’t any finds?’ Ruth had asked earlier. ‘Your friend Phil has brought some coins and stuff over from the university,’ said Dani. Phil is now standing by one of the tents being briefed by Dani. Ruth can sense his excitement from a hundred yards away.
Shona, in her mini skirt, is standing at Phil’s side flicking back her hair.

The extras are gathered by the trench, milling around and tripping over cables. Ruth recognises a couple of faces from local archaeology groups – they will certainly know how to dig – but the others are a motley collection of history buffs and people who just fancy being on television. Some of the older ones have brought shooting sticks and thermos flasks, obviously used to the rigours of filming. The younger ones are taking photos of each other and squealing whenever a furry microphone goes past.

Dex appears, camera on his shoulder like a monkey. ‘What a circus,’ he says.

‘How’s it going?’ asks Frank.

Dex shrugs. ‘All right. Dame Judi Dench over there is giving a command performance.’

Ruth guesses that he’s talking about Corinna. There’s no sign now of any special understanding between the two. ‘How much more is there to film?’ she asks.

‘Just the digging scene, your mate in his tent and then Frank’s words of wisdom.’

Ruth wants to tell him that Phil’s not her mate. Before she finds the words, Dani prances over, carrying a megaphone.

‘All right Ruth?’ Without waiting for answer. ‘Let’s get this show on the road.’

Dani needs to stand on a box to be seen. Watching her, Ruth thinks of a boy prince leading his army into battle.

‘Right everyone,’ she shouts. ‘I’m going to film you digging
this trench here. This is Ruth. She’s a famous archaeologist.’ Ruth is glad that it’s too dark for anyone to see her blushing. ‘She’s going to tell you how it’s done.’

Ruth does her best: she tells them not to sit on the side of a trench to trowel back carefully and to keep the sides of the the trench sharp and clean. She explains that digging is both methodical and incremental. ‘Everything has to be done with the utmost care because every little piece helps put the picture together.’

Two runners divide the extras into groups. One set is told to get into the trench, the other is led away to work in Phil’s tent. Ruth can hear Phil shouting, with no need for a megaphone. ‘Now folks, look at me …’

Ruth prepares to climb into the trench. Normally she’d be wearing coveralls but she was pleased when Dani said that this wouldn’t be necessary. All the same, it’s getting chilly, maybe she should put on her new cagoule. She runs her hands through her hair, which has already lost its careful curls. Oh well, with any luck it’ll be too dark to see her properly. Ruth pulls the cagoule over her head. While she’s still struggling to free herself from its waxy folds, a voice says, ‘Ruth?’

Ruth forces her head out through the top. Her hair is now completely ruined. A woman is standing in front of her. She looks vaguely familiar, tall and attractive with a fashionable elfin haircut.

‘Ruth Galloway? I’m Liz Donaldson.’

Donaldson? For a moment Ruth’s mind is blank and then she remembers. Liz Donaldson. Cathbad’s friend.
The woman wrongly accused of killing her babies.

‘I just wanted to thank you for trying to help me,’ Liz Donaldson is saying.

‘I didn’t do anything much,’ says Ruth, ‘but I’m glad it worked out in the end.’ She winces, thinking that this is a poor way to describe Liz’s husband being charged with the murder of their child. But Liz doesn’t seem to notice, ‘Cathbad’s told me all about you,’ she says. ‘I came here especially to meet you.’

This seems slightly strange to Ruth but she smiles politely. In the distance she can hear Phil asking for ‘complete silence please’.

‘Cathbad says that you’re close to DCI Nelson,’ says Liz.

‘I know him,’ says Ruth cautiously.

Suddenly Liz leans forward. Just for a second, her face changes completely, as if she has pulled on a mask. ‘Well, tell him this. He’ll never know the truth. And he’ll never know the truth about baby Michael either.’

And she turns and disappears into the crowd.

Nelson is on his way home when Ruth calls. He doesn’t really want to go off-duty, not with Michael still missing, but he has to get some sleep or he’ll crack up. He was up all last night and he knows that soon he’ll reach that pitch of tiredness when he’ll start making mistakes. But at the moment he feels hyper-alert, as if every nerve is tingling. His skin feels prickly and loud noises make him jump. When he got into his car the door gave him an electric shock and it’s as if the volts are still surging through his bloodstream.

His phone is on hands free but he still swerves into the road when it rings.

‘What is it? Is Katie OK?’

‘She’s fine. She’s with Simon.’

‘Simon?’

‘My brother.’ Impatiently. ‘Look Nelson, I’m at the castle doing some filming. I’ve just seen Liz Donaldson and she said something a bit weird. It might be nothing but, then again, it might not.’

‘I’m on my way,’ says Nelson. He’s already looking for a place to do a U-turn.

Liz Donaldson. She is linked to both Justine Thomas and to Judy. Judy was the lead officer on her case and made an effort to bond with her. Clear as day, Nelson can see Liz leaning towards Judy in the room smelling of lilies and death:
Do you have children? Keep him safe
. Liz knew that Judy had a child. She may have resented him – and Poppy too – simply for being alive. He can see Liz as if she’s still sitting in front of him. The intelligent eyes and strong jaw. The short hair.

He calls the station to ask for backup.

*

Ruth puts away her phone, thinking hard. She can no longer see Liz Donaldson amongst the crowd of extras. It’s completely dark now and the arc lights are illuminating the castle battlements. They are rather sinister, these powerful beams of light shooting into the darkness, they remind Ruth of a Nazi rally. The areas that escape the searchlight seem doubly dark. Ruth climbs into the trench, feeling uneasy.

‘Come on Ruth,’ shouts Dani. ‘Let’s have you at the front.’

Ruth takes up her position and starts to dig. Where is Liz? Is she in the trench behind her or has she melted away, having said what she came to say. Was Ruth mad to call Nelson? Liz has every excuse for seeming slightly unhinged, after all. It’s just … Ruth had expected to
like
Liz Donaldson. Several people had told her that she was a
lovely person, but she hadn’t liked her. She had found her odd and scary.
He’ll never know the truth. And he’ll never know the truth about baby Michael either
. Is it possible that Liz has abducted Michael? Maybe she wants, in some deranged way, to replace her lost baby. On paper, Ruth would feel sorry for any woman driven to do something so desperate. But she hadn’t felt sorry for Liz. She had been afraid of her.

The scene seems to go on forever, but eventually Dani yells ‘Cut’ and Ruth climbs stiffly out of the trench. The summer night has turned cold and she pulls up the hood of her cagoule. She looks around for Nelson but there’s no sign of him in the shifting crowds. Is he coming or has he decided that she’s just a hysterical woman, seeing things in the shadows? ‘I’m on my way’ he’d said. She doesn’t like to admit it but the sight of Nelson steamrolling his way through the extras would be incredibly comforting right now. She checks her phone. No new messages.

‘Ruth!’ She looks up to see not Nelson but Frank, emerging from the huddle around the catering van. His hair gleams silver in the moonlight. He is welcome too, especially as he’s carrying two Styrofoam cups of coffee.

‘Gosh, thank you,’ she says. ‘You’re an angel.’

‘Am I?’

He says this seriously, as if making a genuine academic query. Ruth covers her confusion by taking a long swig of coffee. She chokes.

‘The angel will now administer first aid,’ says Frank, patting her on the back.

‘Thank you,’ Ruth mops her streaming eyes.

‘Crying Ruth?’ says a voice. ‘It’s not as bad as that.’

Dani has joined them. Ruth has noticed before how she often defers to Frank on set. Now she’s asking him what he thought of the earlier segment with Corinna. ‘I thought it was quite good.’

When Dani has darted away, in a hurry as always, Frank turns to Ruth. ‘When Americans say something’s ‘quite good’ they mean that it’s very good, when Brits say it, they mean ‘so-so’. That had me confused for years.’

Something clicks in Ruth’s brain. A tiny piece of a puzzle begun long ago.

‘Is Dani American?’

‘Yes,’ says Frank. ‘She’s from Boston originally.’

Ruth puts down her coffee and fumbles for her phone. ‘No mobiles on set,’ shouts someone but Ruth ignores them. She’s not particularly good with smart phones at the best of times and now her fingers are almost too cold to type. It’s dark too and the screen keeps going blank. She almost cries with relief when a beam of light illuminates the keypad. She looks round to see Frank shining a torch at her.

‘I always carry one on night shoots,’ he explains.

Perhaps he really is an angel, thinks Ruth. Painstakingly she types ‘childminders’ into ‘search’, trying to find the sites that she visited a few hours earlier. Where the hell is it? Why are there so many bloody childminding
forums? Oh God, she’s scrolled forward instead of back. Has she gone too far? No, here it is.

It’s a case from fifteen years ago.

She remembers her birthday dinner. ‘Lots of childminders really care for the kids they look after,’ Dani had said. She had cared but she hadn’t been able to save Jackson. Dani doesn’t have children of her own, she knows. Does she feel it’s her duty to protect the babies of working parents like Charles and Maddison French?

‘Can you put that phone away?’ It’s Martin, the assistant director.

Ruth looks up wildly. ‘Where’s Dani?’

‘She had to go back to her digs,’ says Martin. ‘I’m in charge now. I want to shoot the trench sequence again.’

*

Clough is now seeing towers at every turn. Nelson sent him off duty at six but, instead of going home, Clough
embarked on a tour of the places mentioned by Irish Ted. It’s madness, he tells himself, I’m becoming as weird as Cathbad. But what if the lunatic psychic woman was right? What if she really did know where Michael was hidden?
He’s alive, Sergeant Clough, but be quick. She can’t protect him forever
. Time’s running out, you don’t need to be a psychic to know that. His colleague’s baby is lost and Clough can’t just stay at home watching
Top Gear
with a microwave meal. He has to do something.

So Clough drives to Cow Tower and The Devil’s Tower and several piles of rock along the old city walls that look more like rubble than fortifications. He checks all these places for white Skodas and short-haired women until he’s seeing both in the shadows. Eventually, he gives up and heads back to the A147. Driving down Riverside Road he sees the castle on his right, lit up like Christmas. What’s going on there? He vaguely remembers Nelson telling him about some filming at the castle. One of those historical programmes. He thinks that Ruth is involved somehow.

Stuck at the lights, he looks across at the floodlit battlements. Despite living in Norfolk all his life, Clough has never been in the castle. He even managed to avoid the obligatory school trip to learn about Boadicea. But now, looking at it, he’s struck by how
castle
-like it is. Just what a kid would draw. A big square like a giant tower.