The Stone Circle: The Dr Ruth Galloway Mysteries 11

by Elly Griffiths

  The Nix were shape-shifters. Sometimes they appear as beautiful women, sitting combing their long blue hair, their voices luring sailors to death on the jagged rocks. Sometimes the Nix is a man playing a violin, a wild tune that the traveller must follow at his peril. The Nix can even appear as a horse, a brook horse it’s called in Scandinavian legend, a beautiful animal, snow white or coal black, that appears in the water by a ravine or a waterfall. If you climb on its back you can never dismount and the horse will gallop away to the ends of the earth. On dark nights you can hear the horse’s hoofbeats, steady and relentless, carrying its rider to hell.

  Ruth turns on the radio, wanting to silence the hoofbeats. The Archers theme tune fills the car.

  ‘Can we turn it off?’ says Kate from the back.

  Back home, Kate panics because Flint is nowhere to be seen but Ruth senses that he’s around somewhere. And, sure enough, when Kate goes up to bed, Flint is stretched out on her Hogwarts duvet.

  Kate asks for a story and Ruth reads her the beginning of Northern Lights, the first book in Philip Pullman’s His Dark Materials trilogy. The series appeals to Ruth, as an atheist, but up until now she has thought it too dark for Kate. She needn’t have worried. Kate adores it. She lies propped up on one arm, listening intently, stroking Flint with her other hand. And, although it’s set in Oxford not Cambridge, Lyra’s world with its dining halls, gargoyles, panels and secret doors, recalls their day wandering through King’s, Trinity and St John’s.

  ‘Can you read some more tomorrow?’ asks Kate as Ruth bends to kiss her goodnight.

  ‘If you like.’ Ruth foresees that she will be reading His Dark Materials for the next year at least.

  Downstairs, Ruth pours herself a glass of wine and tries to settle down to some marking. It’s Margaret Lacey’s funeral tomorrow and Ruth feels that, as the person to discover her remains, she should go and pay her respects. But it means taking a morning off work and Phil is sure to comment. It also means seeing Nelson, even if only from afar. She wonders whether Nelson has carried through with his plan of telling his daughters about Kate. She wishes that she could ring him to find out. The urge is so strong that, instead, Ruth rings Cathbad. He rarely has his phone switched on but this time he answers immediately. He and Judy and the children have been out today, visiting Judy’s parents, and Ruth can hear children’s voices and Thing, Cathbad’s dog, barking in the background. She feels grateful for her evening peace with Kate, Flint and Philip Pullman.

  ‘I’d like to go to the funeral,’ he says. ‘I visited the site with Leif a couple of days ago and there’s incredible energy there. I’m sure that Margaret’s remains were placed there for a purpose.’

  ‘That’s what Nelson thinks.’

  ‘I’m not talking about the police case, I’m talking about the deeper significance. Leif says that you found another girl’s bones there.’

  It’s a few seconds before Ruth realises that he’s talking about the bones in the cist.

  ‘Yes. I think they’re early Bronze Age. An adolescent female.’

  ‘There you are then. Perhaps Margaret was put there for the same reason as the first girl.’

  ‘Perhaps.’

  ‘I’d better go now. Judy’s calling. I’ll meet you at the church tomorrow.’

  Ruth clicks off the phone, feeling more disquieted than ever. She had a breakthrough with the forensics. The unique pollen from Scarning Fen will help the police discover where Margaret was first buried and, with luck, may point them to the killer. But they will be no closer to knowing why they were put in the henge circle in the first place. Perhaps, as Cathbad says, the location itself is the clue. If the circle was a memorial to the Bronze Age girl then maybe Margaret has been placed there for the same reason and by someone who understands the significance. She thinks of the anonymous note that she received. Nelson forgot to take it with him and so it’s still in her desk drawer. She gets it out and reads the words again.

  You found Margaret. She called from the depths and you answered. Her soul is now at peace. May the Gods of earth, sky and sea bless you, Ruth.

  There’s no doubt in her mind that Margaret’s remains were buried in the stone circle because someone wanted them to be discovered. Did that same person want her, Ruth, to discover them? The words are so like Erik’s. So much so that, even though she knows he couldn’t have written them, Ruth feels that, in some way, they are a message from him. And Leif had an actual message from him. Erik wants Ruth to travel across the country to a stone circle and pour a libation on the earth for him. For the first time Ruth thinks of the similarity between the Satanic fiddler who played until the wedding guests were turned to stone and the Nix with his violin, luring sailors into the sea. All these stories have the same moral: don’t be lured by beautiful music or beautiful women or even a beautiful horse; keep your feet securely on the path; don’t be lured by words from beyond the grave.

  This isn’t getting her anywhere. Ruth puts the note, still in its plastic bag, back in her drawer and clicks on the file marked ‘Exam scripts’. But before she has read two paragraphs about ‘The role of animal bone in excavations’ her mind starts wandering, crossing the halls and cloisters of Cambridge, accompanied not just by Frank but now by Lyra and her dæmon too. The night when Nelson came round to look at the note was the night that she slept with Frank. And now Frank seems to be contemplating a future together. Is this so unthinkable? She likes Frank a lot, he gets on with Kate and Flint, and they all seem to coexist fairly easily. She told Frank that she doesn’t want to live with a man again and this is true. But maybe they can go on as they are, with Frank at Cambridge and Ruth at UNN, but on a more formal basis. Marriage? Ruth’s mind skitters away from the word as fast as it can. Ruth’s mother, Jean, used to bemoan that fact that she’d never be ‘mother of the bride’ but now Jean is dead and her emotional blackmail can’t influence Ruth any more. Though, come to think it, hasn’t Erik proved that emotional blackmail can work from beyond the grave? She won’t marry Frank but maybe he can be a more official partner, they can spend weekends together, meet each other’s families, especially if Frank gets that job at Cambridge.

  Ruth closes her file and goes onto the University of Cambridge website. She scrolls through ‘Job Opportunities’ before she finds it. Lecturer in Early Modern History. It’s not her era, she prefers prehistory, the days before the written word made interpretation a matter of scholarship rather than detection. But, two lines below, she sees: Lecturer in Forensic Archaeology. She clicks on the link marked, ‘Person Specification’.

  Chapter 24

  The church is full for Margaret’s funeral. Nelson, arriving with only minutes to spare, is rather embarrassed to see that a pew has been set aside for King’s Lynn CID. He wanted them to have a high-profile presence but there’s something shameful about taking a seat in the middle of all the grieving relatives. He hasn’t even met Karen Benson, née Lacey, yet. That must be her in the front row, a slight woman in deepest black. The larger woman with her must be her daughter, Annie. He’s not sure about the other occupants of the family pews. There’s a blonde girl who looks like Michelle’s description of her friend Star. She has a baby in her arms which seems rather inappropriate to Nelson. But then he’s hardly Father of the Year. Laura didn’t even come home last night. She texted Rebecca so he knows she’s safe but will his adored first-born ever talk to him again?

  Judy and Clough look up as he takes his seat next to them. Clough is clutching a sheet of paper. He has been asked to read and seems extremely nervous about it. Nelson remembers reading the lesson at Scarlet Henderson’s funeral, all those years ago. He’d done it very badly, stumbling over the words, unable to look at the little white coffin in front of him. He sympathises with Clough. According to Tanya, who has been left behind to hold the fort, Clough has been having coaching from his actress wife, Cassandra. It doesn’t seem to have helped with the nerves. Clough’s left leg is jiggling frantically. Judy gives him a slight kick and he s
tops.

  Nelson looks round the church and is surprised, and rather pleased, to see Freddie Burnett and Marj Maccallum sitting near the back. Freddie is dressed in a black suit, his face dark brown from the Canary Islands sun. Marj is wearing a waxed jacket that looks like she uses it for dog-walking. She gives Nelson the ghost of a smile.

  And there, even further back, is a face that, even in these circumstances, still gives Nelson a jolt of . . . what? Pleasure? Recognition? Love? Ruth, wearing a dark coat, sitting next to Cathbad, conservatively dressed for once in a black suit. Ted, from the field archaeology team, is with them. Ruth doesn’t smile at Nelson but he knows that she’s seen him. Two fair heads shine out in the gloom of the church. Maddie, somewhere in the middle, and Leif Anderssen, standing at the back, arms crossed. Nelson can’t see his expression but he is sure that it is irritatingly enigmatic.

  The music starts and the undertakers begin their slow march up the aisle. Another white coffin, another heartbreaking floral arrangement. ‘Daughter’, it says in chrysanthemums and lilies. Nelson feels his eyes start to prickle. He would give his life for his daughters, all three of them, but will they ever forgive him? In the front row, Karen lets out a low moan. Her husband puts his arm round her. A man in the row behind sobs into his handkerchief. Is that Luke, the brother?

  Nelson remembers the priest, Father Declan, from a previous case. He’s white-haired with a soft Irish accent and a deceptively sharp mind. Now Father Declan talks about Margaret. He didn’t know her in person, he says, but he knows her from her family’s memories, which are golden. Nelson thinks of the girl whom he has only known in death, her smile, her halo of hair. Everyone describes Margaret as a golden girl but gold can be dangerous, as any miner will tell you.

  Clough goes up to do the reading, passing so close to the coffin that the lilies leave pollen on his dark suit.

  ‘The souls of the virtuous are in the hands of God, no torment shall ever touch them. In the eyes of the unwise, they did appear to die, their going looked like a disaster, their leaving us like annihilation; but they are in peace . . .’

  It’s a curiously apocalyptic text for a child’s funeral but Nelson is sure that Margaret’s going was ‘like annihilation’ for her family. Clough reads clearly and well, not too fast and not too agonisingly slowly. Cassandra is obviously a good teacher.

  ‘Well done,’ he says, when his sergeant sits back down. Clough acknowledges this with a quick smile. The leg jiggling has stopped.

  The large woman (it’s Annie, he checks the order of service, gold type on white) takes the pulpit for the second reading, that bit from St Paul about love being patient and kind. It always reminds Nelson of Princess Diana’s funeral and Tony Blair reading with those curious mid-sentence pauses that made the whole thing sounds like some sort of experimental poetry. He supposes it’s fitting. This case started with Diana’s marriage and now it ends with echoes of her death. Annie reads well but with a slight irritation in her voice as if it’s not her fault that people don’t understand about love. She steps down from the lectern, not looking at the coffin, and Father Declan moves across to read the gospel. Nelson stands up with the rest of the congregation, the choir singing ‘Alleluia’. He watches the altar servers swinging incense and remembers when he used to do that job, the only enjoyable bit about serving on the altar; the rest of the time it was just a question of standing stock-still in a starched surplice. No wonder he stopped after a few years. But, now, the memory comes back to him and he finds himself mouthing the responses and touching his forehead, mouth and chest to indicate that he will live the gospel with mind, voice and heart. Clough looks at him curiously and Johnson, another lapsed Catholic, smiles to herself.

  He had forgotten how similar a requiem mass is to the everyday kind. The same prayers and hymns, the same rituals and choreography. Two men with shaven heads who look like they have just been released from prison bring the bread and wine up to the altar. The offertory, it’s called. Nelson wonders who the men are. They must be trusted family members if they’re allowed a role. When the congregation begins its slow, swaying procession to the altar for holy communion, Nelson, Judy and Clough stay in their seats. Almost all of Margaret’s family go up though. Are they still practising Catholics or is this just a nod to the solemnity of the occasion? Nelson thinks of his mother Maureen who, in his mind (and perhaps her own) is the earthly embodiment of the Holy Catholic Church. What would Maureen say if she knew about the rift with her adored eldest granddaughter? Worse still, what would Maureen say if she knew about Ruth and Katie? Maureen has met Ruth once but, for reasons of her own, remains convinced that Ruth is in a relationship with Cathbad, to whom she took one of her rare but unshakable likings. But, if everyone else knows, if there really aren’t any more lies in the family, then Maureen will have to be told. She is threatening to come down in the autumn, to see Baby George, whom she persists in believing is an answer to prayer. ‘A little boy after all these years. It was the same with you, Harry. How I prayed for a boy after two girls.’ Nelson can see his sisters, Maeve and Grainne, rolling their eyes at that one.

  More hymns, more prayers. Karen leans forward so that her head is almost on her knees. Annie pats her back. The baby starts to cry and the mother shifts it onto her shoulder. One of the convict men tries to distract it with his car keys. Then, at last, Father Declan is sprinkling the coffin with holy water and the undertakers are bearing it out of the church, followed by Karen, doubled up with grief, and the rest of the family. The daughter, Annie, is scowling, probably trying not to break down. The brother looks in a daze. The blonde girl with the baby smiles at Nelson as she passes.

  ‘Who’s that?’ says Clough.

  ‘I think she’s Karen’s granddaughter. She’s a friend of Michelle’s. From one of those mother and baby groups.’

  Clough doesn’t comment on the girl’s youth and beauty but Nelson knows what he’s thinking. In the church porch Nelson exchanges a few words with Freddie and Marj and then walks over to where Ruth and Cathbad are standing, watching the cortège drive away through the rain. He is sure that they are all thinking of the last funeral they attended; Tim borne away by a gospel choir, the Union flag on his coffin.

  ‘Good of you to come,’ he says.

  ‘Well, I was there when she was found,’ says Ruth. ‘It seemed the right thing to do. God, it was so sad though.’

  ‘Sadness is good,’ says Cathbad. ‘It’s our way of saying goodbye.’

  Nelson gives him a look but refrains from comment.

  ‘Poor little angel,’ says Ted, who is standing with them. ‘May she rest in peace.’ He makes a sketchy sign of the cross. Is Ted another lapsed Catholic? They’re everywhere.

  ‘Are you going to the burial?’ Ruth asks Nelson.

  ‘No, that’s family only. There’s a wake in the church hall but I think I’ll give it a miss. I need to get back to the station. Cloughie can go. The family seem to have taken to him.’

  ‘He read well,’ says Ruth.

  ‘He’s been going to acting classes,’ says Nelson.

  Ruth smiles, probably thinking of Katie’s ambition to be an actress. Rebecca loves acting too. Maybe now the three sisters can meet. If Laura ever comes home again.

  Nelson realises that Leif has joined their group. ‘Her soul is at peace,’ he is saying. ‘As the scripture reading said.’

  Nelson is irritated. How can Leif know anything about Margaret’s soul?

  ‘Good to see you, DCI Nelson,’ says Leif. ‘How is the investigation going?’

  ‘Very well,’ says Nelson. ‘We’ve made some significant forensic discoveries.’

  ‘Science can be fallible,’ says Leif.

  ‘Yes,’ says Nelson. ‘But in my experience it hardly ever is. Excuse me. I’d better get back to work now.’

  *

  Ruth watches Nelson run down the church steps, his black coat flapping behind him. She thinks of all the times that she has seen Nelson hurrying, rushing from place to
place, pacing the floor of his office like a caged animal, striding off into the distance. She doesn’t think that she has ever, once, seen him ambling or strolling or taking an aimless walk just for the pleasure of the view. Even with Kate it’s ‘I’ll race you to the gate’ or ‘Come on, love, Bruno wants a run.’ Even when he’s giving her a piggyback he doesn’t walk, he canters or gallops. It must be very exhausting, being Nelson.

  He was gone so quickly that she didn’t have time to ask him whether he had told his daughters about Kate. It’s hardly the place for that conversation anyway. People are drifting away now, some following the cortège, some making their way towards the church hall.

  ‘Are you going to the wake?’ asks Cathbad.

  ‘No,’ says Ruth. ‘I have to get back to work.’

  Judy comes over, looking very sombre in a dark suit. ‘I’m dreading this,’ she says to Cathbad. He puts his arm round her. ‘Stay strong.’ Ruth would punch anyone who told her to stay strong in these circumstances but Judy doesn’t seem to mind. In the background, Clough raises his eyebrows at Ruth.

  ‘Hi, Cathbad,’ says a voice behind them. ‘Hi, Judy.’ It’s Maddie, in a black coat with a red scarf wrapped round her neck. Her hair is in one of those complicated plaits that Ruth can never master and she looks glamorous and much older than usual.

  ‘Hallo, sweetheart,’ says Cathbad, giving her a kiss. ‘I didn’t know you were here.’

  ‘I’m covering it for the paper,’ says Maddie, brandishing a notebook as if in alibi. ‘But I wanted to be here anyway. I met the family when I did an earlier piece on them. They’re nice people.’

  ‘Did they like your piece?’ says Judy, her voice even. Ruth gets the impression that Judy was not a fan of the article.

  ‘Yes,’ says Maddie with a tilt of the head. ‘I think it’s so important for the family’s voice to be heard.’

  ‘This must be so hard on them,’ says Cathbad. ‘The mother looked devastated.’