The Ghost Fields (Ruth Galloway) (33 page)

And the woman is Michelle.

Ruth drives to the university in a daze. She can’t stop thinking about Michelle and Tim, replaying their embrace in the car park like a dreary X-rated film on a loop. Are they having an affair? Something must be going on. No two adults kiss like that unless they’re having an affair. It’s a strange thing but Ruth’s first emotion was disappointment. She has got so used to thinking of Michelle as perfect – the beautiful loyal wife who loves her husband so much that she can even forgive him for fathering a child with another woman – it’s a shock to realise that she is human after all. Not just human but cheating on her husband with one of his own team, a young man who is supposed to like and respect Nelson. When she thinks of this double betrayal, Ruth finds herself feeling physically sick.

What should she do? She can’t imagine herself telling tales to Nelson. The tale-teller never comes off well in these situations and, besides, she doesn’t really know what’s happening between Michelle and Tim, if anything. Should she speak to Michelle, tell her what she saw? Her entire body shrinks from the thought of such a confrontation. What would Michelle say if she was accused of infidelity by the woman who slept with her husband and had his child? What about Tim? Could she talk to him? No, that’s even more impossible. She hardly knows him. Besides, that might mean telling Tim the truth about her own relationship with Nelson. Thinking this makes Ruth feel ashamed, for herself, for all of them. But then, her predominant emotion is one of shame. Because, when she saw Michelle and Tim, almost her first thought was: if Nelson finds out about Michelle, perhaps he’ll leave her. Perhaps he’ll marry me.

Why should she think this when she’s having what is, frankly, a rather passionate affair with Frank? Why should she fantasise about being married to Nelson when she doesn’t want to marry anyone? She and Nelson would kill each other in a week, arguing about whether Kate should be allowed to play on the wet grass or watch unsuitable Disney films. Even after a night of great sex with Frank, she’s quite keen to get him out of the house so she can be alone with the view and her daughter and her cat. She doesn’t want to live with a man. So why, while she was still standing on the cross-trainer, did a shamefully regressive picture of a white wedding flash into her mind? ‘Do you, Ruth Alexandra, take this man . . .’ She takes the turn for the university, glad that no one else is privy to this image.

The campus is like a ghost ship. Term is nearly over and a lot of the overseas students have already left. She walks up the stairs to her office, hoping to spend a couple of hours getting to grips with her marking. But no sooner has she opened the first of the mid-sessional booklets, ‘Field Techniques in Archaeology’, when there’s a knock on her door.

For one mad moment she thinks it’s Michelle, come to confess about Tim and throw herself on Ruth’s mercy. But that’s crazy. Michelle didn’t see Ruth at the gym and she’s not exactly the confessing sort (unlike her husband, she’s not a Catholic).

‘Come in,’ says Ruth, still in her angel of mercy voice.

It’s Phil. Ruth’s voice changes very quickly.

‘Hi, Phil. What do you want?’

‘Just wondering if you were going to the party at Blackstock Hall tomorrow? Shona and I are thinking of putting in an appearance.’

Putting in an appearance. That’s exactly how he (and Shona) would see it. Even so, Ruth feels guilty about Shona. She hasn’t seen her for weeks. It’s partly because she knows that Shona would wheedle the truth about Frank out of her in seconds. Not that her relationship with Frank is exactly a secret. It’s just that’s she’s not quite ready for it to be common knowledge, discussed at university dinner parties by Phil and Shona and their friends, picked over by Clough and the police team, known to Nelson.

‘I’m going to the party,’ says Ruth. ‘I might not stay long though. Horrendous rain is forecast.’

‘Oh, forecasters always get it wrong,’ says Phil. ‘I’d like to go. After all, we were there when the plane was first discovered. We’ve been involved in this story from the beginning.’

I was there, thinks Ruth. You just tagged along for the ride. Aloud she says, ‘Are you looking forward to seeing the finished film? I think they’re going to show it tomorrow.’

‘I’m not that bothered about the film,’ says Phil. That’s because you’re not in it, thinks Ruth. ‘I’m sure it’s very American and sensationalised. No, I’m just interested in the archaeological investigation.’

Phil has shown so little interest in the archaeological investigation that he has never even asked about Ruth’s dig at Blackstock Hall or about how Fred’s body came to be in the plane in the first place. This is just as well, really, because Ruth’s dig was inconclusive. She is pretty sure that the soil in the pets’ graveyard showed traces of decaying human body matter but the samples she took proved difficult to analyse because too much animal matter was mixed in. The context didn’t yield much either, besides the dog-tag and the Victorian glass. But Ruth is sure that the earth had been moved fairly recently and that a human body had once been buried amongst the dogs and cats.

‘There’s not much to say about the archaeological investigation,’ she says now. ‘It’s a bit frustrating really.’

‘What about the body that was found in the pig farm? You were involved with that too, weren’t you?’

Nelson told Ruth about the body turning out to be that of Patrick Blackstock but the information hasn’t been released to the general public and, in this instance, Ruth regards Phil as very much one of the public.

‘The police are still awaiting DNA results, I think.’

‘And they say universities are slow.’ Phil turns to leave, pausing at the door to ask Ruth if her American friend will be at the party.

‘If you mean Frank,’ says Ruth evenly, ‘yes.’

Phil heads off down the corridor whistling ‘I Like to Be in America’.

Ruth’s American friend is waiting for her when she gets back to the cottage. She had said that she’d be home at five but she was held up by traffic and by collecting Kate from her childminder. This has happened a few times but something stops Ruth from giving Frank a key to the cottage. He’s going back to America in a few weeks, says the voice in her head, you don’t want things to get too serious. A key, now that’s serious. Besides, Frank always says that it’s no hardship to wait outside.

‘The view’s different every day. I could never get tired of looking at it.’

She loves the fact that Frank loves the view. And further than that, she’s not prepared to go.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ she says now. ‘Traffic. Camper vans. Horse trailers. All the usual stuff.’

‘I’ve never known such a place for camper vans and horse trailers,’ says Frank, swinging Kate up into the air. ‘Maybe they could get the horses to pull the vans and halve the traffic.’

‘Cathbad used to live in a horse-drawn caravan,’ says Ruth, opening the door. ‘When he lived in Ireland.’

‘Figures,’ says Frank, who has come to know Cathbad well over the last few weeks.

Kate drags Frank off to look at her Sylvanians. Kate’s enthusiasm for Frank has become rather worrying for Ruth. It’s all very well for her to decide that she won’t think about her feelings for Frank until he’s on his way back to America, but what will Kate make of this romantic fatalism? She’s not going to accept the explanation that Frank’s not coming round for tea any more because Mummy’s afraid of commitment. She’ll miss Frank and she’ll keep asking questions about him until Ruth either explodes or gives her a proper answer. Kate has already chatted about Frank on days out with Nelson, prompting several sarcastic asides: ‘Your American friend is quite the Mary Poppins’. Even if he goes away, she’ll keep talking about him. And why shouldn’t she? As far as Kate is concerned, Frank is her friend.

Ruth makes tea and puts the crumpets under the grill. Frank has said that he’ll make supper tonight so she doesn’t have to worry about that. Frank is a good, if limited, cook, specialising in the meals he taught himself to make after his wife’s death: spaghetti bolognaise, chilli con carne, steak and roast chicken. Ruth doesn’t mind; these meals suit her fine. It’s bliss to have someone else cooking for her and to eat the meals together, drinking wine and talking about their various days. This is how Ruth has always imagined Nelson’s home life, Nelson and Michelle sitting down to cosy meals together, laughing softly and talking about delicious trivialities. But it turns out that, instead of cooking Nelson’s supper, Michelle has been busy kissing Tim at the gym. Does Nelson know? Does he care that his marriage might be about to collapse?

Frank comes into the kitchen just in time to save the crumpets from burning. They eat them in the sitting room while Kate watches
Dora the Explorer
and Flint, probably jealous, claws steadily at the sofa.

‘Stop it, Flint,’ says Ruth. He blinks at her and carries on.

‘Are you looking forward to the party tomorrow?’ asks Frank.

‘Not really,’ says Ruth. ‘I don’t like parties and the weather’s meant to be horrible.’

It’s raining now, it sounds as if someone is throwing little stones against the window. High tides and heavy rain mean a serious risk of flooding, as the news is always reminding Ruth. She is sure that this morning the sea was nearer than ever, swallowing the water meadows, edging closer to the road.

‘It’ll be OK,’ says Frank. Ruth has noticed that he likes parties, that he’s rather social in fact. Another thing they don’t have in common. ‘We’re hoping to show the film. The dailies have been looking really good. We’re having a post-production meeting tomorrow and then hoping to have a version to show over at the Hall. I’d really like Nell to see it before she goes back to the States.’

‘I like Nell,’ says Ruth. ‘She’s very sweet.’

‘I like Sally too,’ says Frank. ‘The women in that family are worth ten of the men.’

‘You might have something there,’ she says.

‘Ruth,’ says Frank. There is something in his voice that makes Kate look round from the screen. Even Flint stops clawing momentarily.

‘Ruth,’ he says, ‘Paul and Earl are going back to the States a couple of days after the party. There’s a lot of editing to be done.’

‘I suppose there must be,’ says Ruth. She knows absolutely nothing about film editing.

‘But I was thinking of staying on for a couple of weeks.’

‘That would be nice,’ says Ruth, her throat dry.

‘Would it?’ Frank takes her hand. ‘Would it, Ruth?’

‘Yes,’ says Ruth. ‘Term’s over in a week. If the weather gets better, we could go on some trips, we could . . .’

‘The thing is,’ says Frank, ‘I might even be able to stay for good. That is, if you wanted me to.’

CHAPTER 31

Ruth and Judy are planning to travel to the party together. It makes sense; Cathbad is looking after both children and Judy is finding it uncomfortable to drive. She is very near her due date now, although she keeps insisting that the baby will be late because Cathbad says so. Ruth, remembering how she went into labour at one of Cathbad’s Halloween parties, looks at Judy dubiously as she squeezes into the passenger seat.

‘Are you quite sure you want to go to this party?’

‘Yes,’ says Judy. ‘Besides, the boss told me to.’

‘You don’t have to do everything Nelson says,’ says Ruth.

Judy looks at her. ‘That’s kind of the point of him being the boss.’

‘Clough could go instead,’ says Ruth. ‘He’d love to. Cassandra will be there.’

Ruth hasn’t seen Clough since she visited him in hospital a few weeks ago but, if the rumours are to be believed, he and Cassandra are now inseparable.

‘Clough’ll probably be there anyway,’ says Judy. ‘But the boss told me to go.’ Her face takes on a mulish look. Ruth wonders whether she is slightly put out by Clough’s return to work. Anyway, there’s clearly no changing her mind.

‘Let’s get going then,’ says Ruth. ‘We don’t want to be too late back. Not if this rain keeps on.’

It has been raining all day. As they drive through the fields, the sky and the land seem to meet in a dreary grey no-man’s-land. Ruth swerves to avoid the puddles at the side of the road, ever-expanding pools reflecting more sky turning from grey to black. It’s only four o’clock (the party is billed as ‘early evening drinks’) but it’s already nearly dark. Ruth puts on her headlights and grips the wheel tightly. It would be easy to drive off the road in these conditions and she doesn’t fancy her chances out there in the watery landscape. Her little Renault is a trusty steed but she’s pretty sure it can’t swim.