Is there a rowan? she asks.
What? Frank is pulling aside a curtain of leaves. Kate, a few feet below, is digging enthusiastically.
Rowan trees are traditionally found in graveyards. Theyre meant to ward off evil spirits.
Are you thinking of Jemimas diary? I shall lay him with Emily and Susannah, where Rowan will stand guard.
Yes, admits Ruth. It occurred to me that she might have buried him here.
There havent been any burials here since the 1600s.
Official ones, that is. And who were Emily and Susannah?
I think they may have been Jemimas sisters who died in infancy. Theres a mention of Emily somewhere.
Well, could they have been buried here secretly? I mean, the family probably couldnt afford proper funerals but they may have still considered this hallowed ground.
Its possible, says Frank. Most people were buried at Nethergate – Jemimas parents graves are there – but they could have buried the babies somewhere else. They may have thought that theyd be safe from the grave robbers here. It would have been an isolated place, even then.
He looks as if he is about to say more but Kate calls excitedly. Look! Look!
Ruth and Frank scramble down the slope to where Kate is crouching. Ruth feels her heart pumping. She doesnt know what she expects. A human bone? A shroud bearing the name Joshua Barnet? But Kate is holding something small in the palm of her hand. Nail, she says importantly. For a moment Ruth thinks of a finger or toe but she sees that Kate is holding up a sturdy piece of metal that is almost certainly a coffin nail.
Lovely, she says. Shall we go and have lunch now?
When Nelson suggests that she goes home early, Judy doesnt wait for him to make the offer twice. All morning she has felt as if shes moving underwater, going through the motions but feeling curiously detached from the world around her. The rest of the team are still fired up, frantically following leads, urged on by Nelsons constant reminders that theres a potential child killer on the loose. But Judy finds herself asking people to repeat things and logging herself out of her computer because she cant think of her password. Only when she remembers holding Poppy in her arms does she feel some sense of urgency. Otherwise the events of yesterday seem as remote as a TV series, something grey and Swedish and ultimately unrealistic.
Clough and Tim follow up a sighting of the short-haired woman with the pram, which turns out to be a blameless down-and-out pushing his belongings around the shopping centre. Otherwise all their enquiries draw blanks. None of the neighbours saw anything that Sunday afternoon when Tanya and Judy were in the house and Poppys abductor was apparently able to return her as easily as posting a card through the letterbox.
Thats the trouble with these posh houses with big gardens and long driveways, said Nelson. Back home in Blackpool there wasnt a thing happened on our street without my mum knowing about it.
Its grim up north, murmured Clough to Judy, their standard response to the bosss trips down Memory Lane, Lancashire.
But Judy was barely able to summon up a smile. Even talking was an effort. So now she ignores Cloughs knowing glance and Tanyas pretended sympathy and heads for the door without giving Nelson the chance to change his mind. Shell collect Michael from the childminder and have a few blissful hours in front of childrens TV. Then shell go to bed at eight and be fresh for the fray tomorrow.
Must be great to be on part-time, is Cloughs parting shot but Judy hardly notices. She is on her way to Michael.
Ruth, Frank and Kate have lunch at the Mill Inn, a charming pub overshadowed by an immense mill tower. Its known as the Black Mill, explains the barman. It was working right up to 2003, the only working mill in these parts. But Ruth thinks there is something ominous, almost Tolkienesque, about the stark black tower reflected in the rushing water of the river. Its a reminder of another age, of hellish furnaces and backbreaking labour and nightmare machines that can bite off a womans hand.
As Kate devours nuggets and chips (she rejects the salad with a shudder), Frank and Ruth discuss Jemima Green.
I found her frightening, says Ruth. All that stuff about the children being angels, laying them out and writing their names in the book.
She loved them, says Frank mildly. Whats wrong with that?
They werent her children. Joshua Barnet had a mother. I felt that Jemima wanted them all for herself. I mean, not letting Joshuas mother have his body. No wonder she was furious.
Jemima may have had her reasons for not trusting Anna Barnet. She made some terrible allegations at the trial, that Jemima was a witch and that she used the children for human sacrifices.
She was grieving. And there was some mystery about the bodies. Why did Jemima talk about giving them to Mr G? Was he a body snatcher?
Frank nods, sprinkling salt on his chips. Ruth likes the way that he seems remarkably un-health conscious. I think so. I think he bought the bodies from Jemima and sold them to the medical schools. These children were the unclaimed poor, if you like. No-one was going to ask questions about them.
That doesnt make it OK.
Maybe not, but they were dead and Jemima used the money to care for the living. I think that was the bargain she made with herself.
Did Mr G give evidence at the trial?
No, he disappeared completely. Jemima and Martha both refused to answer questions about him. They were probably scared. Some of these resurrectionists were pretty unsavoury characters.
And she didnt give him Joshuas body.
No. She obviously couldnt bear to.
In the poem she says something about wanting to be buried with him.
Well that didnt happen, says Frank. She was hanged and her body thrown into an unmarked grave. We dont know where Joshua was buried.
There is a pause while Ruth tries not to eat too loudly. You sound sad about her, she says.
I guess I am, says Frank. She was unjustly accused and I care about injustice. She was the victim of all sorts of prejudices, against the poor, against the disabled, against women who dont conform to societys idea of how women should look. Look at how they labelled her a devil worshipper because of that medal she wore. Pure ignorance.
Ruth wonders if she too fails to conform to societys idea of how women should look. Tough, if so. But she feels slightly guilty about her instinctive distaste for Jemima Green. Well, she knows a way that she can make amends. About that medal … she says.
Once again Debbie and the children are out when Judy knocks on the door, but as she didnt call ahead she cant feel too aggrieved. They are probably in the park again. She leaves her car outside Debbies house and walks the few hundred yards to the playground. Its a sunny afternoon so the swings and slides are crowded with children. She soon picks out the identical Arsenal tops of Archie and Tom as they play on the climbing frame. Wheres Michael? In the sandpit, excavating for treasure? Without quite knowing why she starts to walk faster. Now she can see Debbie. Shes wearing a pink t-shirt and an inappropriately short skirt and is sitting on a bench watching the boys.
Debbie! Now Judy is running, hurdling abandoned scooters and dodging picnicking families. Debbie turns round, her face blank with surprise.
Debbie! Wheres Michael?
Debbie looks at her in concern.
Hes gone, love. Your friend came to pick him up. The girl with the short hair.
CHAPTER 25
Judy is amazed that her voice still works. In fact, part of her is surprised that she is still alive, that she hasnt fallen down dead on the spongy playground asphalt. Michael has gone. Isnt that what she has been dreading, in her most secret heart, as soon as she knew that Poppy was missing? And, if she is honest, hasnt she been expecting a disaster – cosmic retribution – from the moment that she looked into Michaels dark eyes and realised that he wasnt her husbands child?
What friend? I didnt send a friend to pick him up.
Now Debbie jumps up, hand to her mouth. But she had a note from you. She seemed to know Michael …
Judy is fumbling for her phone. It takes her three attempts to find Nelsons number. Then, when he answers, the words wont come. Debbie has to take the phone from her. When she hears Debbie telling him what has happened, Judy really does fall to the ground. Then somehow she is lying face down next to the hopscotch markings, whimpering like an animal.
Judy? Judy! Debbie is leaning over her. She is aware of other figures, shadowy forms in the background radiating concern and curiosity, of two little boys in Arsenal tops, of a hang-glider, high up in the blue blue sky.
Judy. Ive rung Darren. Hes meeting us at the house. Come on, lets go. Debbie pulls her to her feet and Judy finds herself holding a childs hand, Archies or Toms. Strangely, it is the contact with the child that keeps Judy going, she clings to the little fingers like a lifeline and the child – Archie or Tom – squeezes back as if he understands.
As they reach the house, two police cars are screeching to a halt outside. Nelson and Clough jump out of the first car. Nelsons face is pale but hes completely in control. He seizes Judys arms and says, quite roughly, Judy, youve got to concentrate. The first hours the most important, you know that. We can find this woman if we act fast enough.
Judy nods and, still clasping the little boys hand, she follows Debbie into the house. Nelsons talking on his phone and Judy recognises the code for high alert, all units converging on Castle Rising. Clough is speaking to Debbie, getting a description of the short-haired woman. A policewoman puts a cup of tea into Judys hand and she smiles faintly, recognising her own role in so many such incidents.