One more time, says Dani. Lets go from the bit about the teeth. Dex, come in for a close-up of the tooth on Ruths hand.
Ruth holds out the tooth, wishing that her hands didnt look so rough and unfeminine. She hasnt even got an expensive watch or bracelet to liven things up. Still, at least this way you cant see her nails. She explains again about the ridges.
That ties in well with what we know about Jemima Green, says Frank. Ruth admires his ease on camera. Every time he says these words its as if hes saying them for the first time. We know she had a very poor childhood, she was the youngest of nine children and her father was a farmer in Saxlingham Thorpe, just around the corner from here. These were very tough times for small farmers. New machinery was coming in and making it almost impossible for smallholders to make a living. And, of course, it was probably an accident with one of these new-fangled farm machines that cost Jemima her hand.
This is only conjecture, as far as Ruth can make out, but Frank knows his audience. Ruth can imagine that Dani will illustrate Franks last remark with a close-up of the infamous hook. Its clever too that he keeps calling her Jemima. But Ruth thinks that itll take more than using a cosy first name to get the audience on Mother Hooks side, especially when Corinna is painting her as Draculas more bloodthirsty sister. Also, by no stretch of the imagination is Saxlingham Thorpe near Kings Lynn.
OK, says Dani. Lets call it a wrap. Thanks Phil and Ruth. That was great.
Ruth stands up, relieved that she will never have to suck in her stomach for the camera again. But Phil, on the other hand, seems rather disappointed.
Is that it? he asks.
Dani is looking into the monitor. She glances up. Yes. Except for the night dig, but you wont have to speak then.
Wont have to speak. Ruth can see the horror of this reverberating in Phils mind. He looks around the laboratory, at the cameras and make-up girls and researchers ready to record his latest words of wisdom. She can just imagine Phil contrasting this with a typical day at UNN – lectures, seminars, funding meetings, the continual battle to get people interested in any discipline that doesnt involve field trips to New York.
The Head of Department seems to be coming to a decision. He beams round at the room. In that case, he says, Id like invite you all to a meal at Iagos tomorrow. Were celebrating Ruths forty-third birthday.
Ruth walks across the landscaped lawns that lead to the car park. She is still absolutely seething. How dare Phil use her birthday as an excuse to suck up to his new TV friends. She is sure that without Shona he would have had no idea that her birthday was coming up. And he told everybody how old she will be. The worst thing was that everybody, including Corinna, Aslan and Dex the cameraman, said theyd be there. So now Ruth is stuck with celebrating her birthday at an over-priced restaurant in the company of people she hardly knows and who, she is sure, she will never see again. Even Frank, asks a sly voice in her head. Does she care if she never sees Frank again? Shut up, she tells the voice. Frank is a TV star, the George Clooney of armchair historians. He would never look twice at her.
Despite her rage, Ruth feels slightly soothed as she walks beside the ornamental lake. The campus is looking its best in the soft summer sun. Although the students have all gone home, the summer school residents are draped picturesquely on the grass, some are playing football and one is even flying a kite, brilliant red against the blue sky. A radio is playing and she can hear the sound of laughter and faint shouts from the tennis court behind the humanities block. Its like a blueprint for an ideal community – all ages and nations coming together in the pursuit of knowledge. Ruth knows that this Utopian vision wont stand close examination. In reality, all the holiday students are middle class and most are middle aged. But if she doesnt look too closely it feels like the new Jerusalem, Norfolk style.
In the car park, though, theres a sight which jars with the idyll. A police car and, beside it, DS Judy Johnson talking on her phone. Ruth waves but doesnt approach. After a few minutes, Judy puts away her phone and strolls over.
Hallo Ruth.
Hi Judy. What are you doing here?
Judy grimaces. Missing child alert. We had a tip-off that he was seen near the university.
Oh God, says Ruth. Have you found him?
False alarm, says Judy. That was the station just now. Hes been found safe and sound at home. The mother just panicked when she couldnt see him in the garden.
Thank goodness. Ruth thinks of Kate and pushes the thought away. She doesnt like to think of what must lie behind Judys false alarm – the panic, the growing sense of dread, the frantic searching, the call to the police. Then the sighting in the garden, the child perhaps concealed by a tree or a playhouse. The passionate embrace, the tears, the slightly shame-faced second phone call. Even so, it seems to her that there is now a slight cloud over the perfect summer day.
Nelson says youre making a TV programme, says Judy. I saw the trucks.
Were a very small part of the programme, says Ruth, feeling slightly proud all the same. They finished filming us today. Suddenly she has an idea. Why shouldnt she invite some of her own friends to the dreaded birthday dinner?
To her surprise, Judy is enthusiastic. Great! Ive always wanted to go to Iagos and itll be a real treat to go out on my own.
Bring Darren too if you like.
No, says Judy. He can babysit.
Ruth will have to sort out babysitting too. She can ask Clara, her regular, or maybe Sandra will help. This is another time when she misses Cathbad, who was always happy to look after Kate. But, then again, if Cathbad were here, he would definitely be going to Iagos. He loves socialising, even if he does call it absorbing positive energies.
See you tomorrow then, she says to Judy.
Yeah. Thanks, Ruth.
Judy gets into the police car and is driven away by its uniformed occupant. Ruth is just opening her car door when she hears someone calling her name. She looks round. Its Frank, carrying two leather-bound books.
Ruth! Glad Ive caught you.
Do you want a lift somewhere?
No. Youre OK. Ive got my car and Ive just about mastered driving on the left now. He grins and Ruth finds herself smiling back.
No, I wanted to give you this. He proffers one of the books. Its Jemima Greens diary. You said youd like to have a look.
Oh, yes. Even so, Ruth feels a curious reluctance to touch the thing. Its the same feeling she had when she first saw the bones in the trench. Dont get involved with Mother Hook. Dont let her get involved with you.
I was looking through it last night, says Frank, as if the writings of a murderess are ideal bedtime reading, and something struck me when she was writing about Joshua Barnet. Ive made a note. Id be interested to see what you think.
OK. Ill let you know.
Theres The Book of Dead Babies too, says Frank, holding out the other volume.
Thanks, says Ruth. Thanks a lot.
See you tomorrow then, says Frank. Im looking forward to it.
Me too, says Ruth, putting the books in her car. Me too.
CHAPTER 17
The police car drops Judy at the station. She doesnt want to go in and hear the latest on the Donaldson case – how everyone always knew it was the father all along. She has always believed in Lizs innocence, but now that she has been released she cant escape a slight uneasiness. Why didnt Liz mention earlier that she thought she might have heard her husbands voice on the intercom? Its all very well for Madge to say that Liz was in a fugue state, but she always seemed perfectly rational when interviewed. And she has always said that she was alone when David died. Bob is still denying that he was ever in the house that day. Will he be the first killer to be convicted by Facebook? Superintendent Whitcliffe says that its a test case. He seems to find this very exciting.
Its three oclock. If she leaves now she can collect Michael from the childminder and have three hours alone with him before Darren gets home. She has plenty of overtime owing after all. Making her mind up Judy walks quickly to the car park. She doesnt want to run into Clough and have to listen to a barrage of thinly veiled criticism. Half day is it? Your turn to pick up from nursery? Its so unfair. She hasnt taken a single day off since she had Michael. Darren says that she is working harder than ever.
She relaxes when shes on the road. Judy loves driving, and before she was married cars were her greatest extravagance. She still regrets giving up her high-powered jeep for a sensible Fiat but at least it has plenty of poke. She whizzes through the gears and is first away at the lights, allowing herself a little smile of satisfaction in the rear-view mirror. Tosser. Serve him right for putting go-faster stripes on a Ford Focus.
She has phoned Debbie the childminder to say that she will be early, but when she arrives at the neat little house in Castle Rising theres no one at home. Fuming, Judy calls Debbie to be told that she and the kids are still at the park.
Ill meet you there, says Judy, cutting off further explanation.
Theres no reason why Debbie shouldnt have taken the children to the park – its a lovely day after all – but Judy is irritated all the same. She doesnt like Debbie saying the kids, it reminds her that as well as Michael Debbie looks after two other children, jolly three-year-old twins called Archie and Tom. This is perfectly legal – Judy has checked – childminders are allowed to care for up to six children, though only one of these can be under one. In theory, Judy likes the fact that Michael has the company of Archie and Tom, in practice she resents anyone who takes attention away from her precious baby. Of course, in a big family children have to fight for adult attention, its perfectly normal. But thats another thing. Judy doesnt like Debbie saying the kids because it sounds as if the children are hers.