The Dark Angel

by Elly Griffiths

  But Don Tomaso doesn’t react at all. He simply says, ‘Your daughter is a lovely girl. Already she makes friends here.’ From across the square, Ruth can hear her daughter’s voice: ‘No, I’m the leader.’ Sometimes Kate reminds her painfully of Nelson.

  ‘Yes,’ she says, ‘she’s good at making friends.’

  ‘And that’s a good thing to be good at,’ says the priest comfortably. He might be about to say more but, at that moment, the band strikes up with a crash of brass and drums. The first tune is greeted by applause from the crowd and, almost immediately, people are pushing their way to the front to dance. What’s wrong with them? Although she likes grooving gently to Bruce Springsteen in private, Ruth can’t imagine cavorting in public like this.

  Ruth checks that she can see Kate and leans back to enjoy the spectacle. But, at that moment, Angelo materialises in front of her. ‘May I have this dance?’

  *

  It’s past ten o’clock by the time Ruth, Shona and the children make their way up the hill. Ruth has danced with Angelo, with Graziano, even with Don Tomaso. Shona has danced with half the town. Kate has had two proposals of marriage from smitten six-year-olds and has been given a cap saying ‘I ♥ Italy’. Now they are all tired and Louis is dragging his feet.

  ‘Come on,’ says Shona, ‘just a little bit further. There’s a good boy.’

  Kate mutters darkly under her cap.

  The music is still playing – pop songs now. Ruth can hear a version of ‘Uptown Funk’ echoing incongruously around the medieval buildings. Both Angelo and Graziano offered to accompany them home, but it seemed unfair to take them away from the party. But now, walking through the high, dark buildings, Ruth suddenly wishes that they had company. An owl hoots somewhere very close and the blank windows of Samir’s ruined house seem to gape at them. Ruth starts to walk faster.

  ‘Wait for us,’ says Shona.

  Ruth and Kate wait by the lamppost, its light now extinguished. They can still see the glow from the square, but it seems very far away. Behind them, the castle is a looming presence, not threatening, exactly, but somehow watchful. I have withstood sieges and battles, it seems to say. I have no compassion to spare on you.

  As Shona and Louis approach, Ruth sees a movement in the bushes behind them. Kate sees it too.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Nothing,’ says Ruth. ‘A stray cat, perhaps. Here’s Louis. Let’s see who can get to the top of the hill first.’

  But when she looks back, the figure is still there, moving silently in the shadows, following them at a discreet distance.

  She can’t be sure but she thinks it’s Angelo’s student, Roberto.

  Chapter 15

  Ruth dreams of dancing, of Kate running around the fountain in Castello degli Angeli followed by a pack of wolves, of her mother trying and failing to pass on an important message, of Mary Poppins floating high above the church of San Michele e Santi Angeli. Then a thunderous crash sends the dream smashing into smithereens. She sits up and reaches for the light. The room remains in darkness.

  ‘Ruth! Did you hear that?’

  Shona is standing in her doorway. It’s too dark to see her face but her voice is trembling.

  ‘I couldn’t help hearing it,’ says Ruth. ‘What was it?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘The electricity doesn’t seem to be working.’

  Ruth follows Shona into the sitting room just as Kate calls, ‘Mum!’ Ruth rushes into the children’s room. They are both awake and Louis is crying.

  ‘It’s all right,’ says Ruth. ‘Probably just thunder or something.’

  ‘My room moved,’ says Kate. ‘I felt it.’

  Shona is cuddling Louis. Suddenly she says, ‘Ruth! The picture.’

  Ruth looks at the wall opposite the children’s bed, where a strange picture, a modernist blur of shapes and colours, had hung. When she first saw it, Kate had been convinced that it showed elephants in a sandstorm, but Louis was sure that it was ships at sea. Now the picture is on the floor, the glass smashed into pieces.

  Ruth tries Kate’s bedside light. Nothing.

  ‘What’s happening, Mum?’ Kate’s voice is unsteady.

  ‘Probably just a power cut. Wait here with Shona. Don’t tread on the floor in your bare feet.’ Ruth goes into the sitting room and out onto the balcony. The valley looks much the same as before, the full moon turning the trees to silver. Far below, a dog is barking hysterically.

  She turns to see Shona, her face illuminated by her iPhone screen.

  ‘I can’t get a signal,’ she says. ‘Try yours.’

  Ruth retrieves her phone. The display tells her that it’s 2 a.m., and she has a faint signal. As she looks at the screen, it flashes into life. Angelo.

  ‘Hello,’ she says, hoping that she doesn’t sound as scared as she feels.

  ‘Ruth,’ says Angelo, ‘don’t be alarmed, but there’s been a small earthquake.’

  ‘An earthquake?’

  She didn’t mean to say it so loudly. In the background, Shona gives a scream and both children start crying.

  ‘It’s OK, it’s OK,’ she tells them. At the same time, Angelo is telling her, ‘Nothing to worry about. No one hurt. Just some structural damage to the church and a couple of houses. Graziano has been on the phone. Best thing for you to do is just stay where you are.’

  ‘There’s no electricity,’ says Ruth, trying not to sound pathetic. ‘Is there a trip switch here?’

  ‘Power lines must be down. It often happens in these mountain villages. Don’t worry. I’ll come up and see you in the morning.’

  Ruth wishes that she could tell him not to bother, that they’ll be all right on their own. Instead she says, ‘Good. See you then. Bye.’ Then she turns to Shona and the children. ‘Everything’s OK,’ she tells them. ‘I’m going to try to switch the lights back on.’

  By the light of her iPhone torch she searches the hall and kitchen, looking for a fuse box. Even though it won’t help if the power lines are down flicking the trip switch is something she can do – she often has to do it in her isolated cottage – so she is determined to show this much initiative, at least. Eventually, she finds a small wooden door in the kitchen which opens onto a cupboard full of empty wine bottles. And, at the back, she sees the familiar black and red levers. Ruth reaches through the dusty bottles and flicks the switch. Nothing. Angelo was right.

  Shona appears behind her. ‘Shall we make a cup of tea?’

  ‘How can we?’ says Ruth.

  ‘The cooker is gas,’ says Shona, ‘and I think I saw an old kettle somewhere.’

  Shona uses her torch app to locate the old-fashioned kettle at the back of the cupboard, fills it with water and puts it on the hob. This action calms both of them. They stand looking at the rusty kettle as if it has magic powers, waiting for the steam to blow its whistle. Shona makes tea for all of them, even the children, and they sit on the sofa in the dark, drinking it. The dog has stopped barking and the night is quiet again. Shona and Ruth keep up a flow of self-consciously jolly chat and Ruth feels Kate relax against her. She puts down her empty cup. ‘Let’s go back to bed. It’s nearly three.’

  ‘Can I sleep with you, Mum?’ says Kate.

  ‘Yes,’ says Ruth, ‘and when we wake up it will be light.’ This seems both obvious and important to say. Ruth hears the voice of her old university tutor, Erik Anderssen, in full mesmeric lecture mode. ‘Prehistoric man went to bed when it was dark and rose when it was light. It’s the natural cycle of life.’

  ‘You come with me, Louis,’ says Shona. ‘Isn’t this an adventure?’

  Ruth agrees, although, in truth, she feels that she has had enough adventures to last a lifetime.

  *

  Ruth wakes to find the room flooded with light and Kate sleeping soundly next to her. She looks at her phone: 7 a.m. The battery hasn’t charged, so the electricity must still be off. She still has thirty per cent though. Not time to panic yet. Ruth gets up and goes i
nto the sitting room. If it wasn’t for the four tea cups on the table, she would have thought that she had dreamt last night’s adventure. Amazing how the daylight transforms everything. In its glow, Ruth feels as if the earthquake might well have been an adventure.

  There’s no sound from Shona’s room and there’s no hot water for a shower so Ruth washes her face with cold water, does her teeth and gets dressed without waking Kate. Then she knocks on Shona’s door.

  ‘I’ve made you some tea,’ she says. ‘I thought I’d walk down to the square, see what’s going on. Kate’s still asleep.’

  ‘OK.’ Shona sits up in bed, rubbing her eyes. Like Kate, Louis is still fast asleep. ‘Isn’t Angelo coming round this morning?’

  ‘I won’t be long,’ says Ruth. ‘Kate’s still in bed. It’s not eight o’clock yet.’

  ‘I’d better ring Phil,’ says Shona. ‘There might have been something on the news last night.’

  Shona might say that things aren’t going well with Phil, thinks Ruth, but she seems to spend a lot of time talking to him. She spent most of yesterday afternoon on the phone, chatting away in the bedroom while Ruth entertained both children. Ruth wonders if she should ring Nelson. And her dad.

  ‘I won’t be long,’ she says again. ‘I just want to see for myself.’

  *

  At first she thinks that Angelo must have been wrong. There can’t have been an earthquake last night. The shuttered houses are quiet, but from within she can hear the sounds of children laughing, a radio playing. Surely people should be running through the streets in panic? Even Samir’s house looks peaceful, and no less ramshackle than before, towels draped over the windows in place of curtains. But as Ruth rounds the corner by the square, she sees the internationally recognisable signs of an emergency: a blue van with ‘Carabinieri’ emblazoned upon it, a fire engine, police tape and a knot of interested spectators. Among these last she sees the familiar black shirt of Angelo. Elsa is there too, wearing what look like high-heeled trainers.

  ‘Angelo,’ says Ruth. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘Nothing much,’ he says. ‘Part of the church wall has come down. Don Tomaso is furious.’

  On the other side of the tape, Ruth can see the priest arguing with the rescue workers, his arms flung out in protest.

  ‘They say they have to shut the church,’ says Angelo. ‘Don Tomaso says churches should always be open in times of crisis.’

  ‘He’s right,’ says Elsa. ‘It’s Sunday. People must go to church.’

  ‘The church is unsafe,’ says Angelo. ‘That’s what the carabinieri say.’

  ‘Was anyone hurt?’ says Ruth.

  ‘No,’ says Angelo. ‘Just the wall of the church and some of the graves. That old house down there has been badly damaged too.’

  Ruth looks at the house beyond the church. It certainly looks derelict, with its roof caved in and rubble everywhere, but she was pretty sure that it looked like that yesterday. Even the damage to the church doesn’t look too bad. The retaining wall has been destroyed and she can see that some roof tiles are missing, but the structure itself looks as solid and smugly classical as ever. She can’t help peering beyond the wall into the graveyard. There you can see that the earth has been churned, as if some sleeping creature is trying to emerge. Tombstones tilt at strange angles and part of the ground seems to have been pushed higher, creating an odd effect, like a raked stage. Flowers and wreathes are scattered everywhere and a large bird croaks mournfully from an uprooted tree.

  Ignoring the shouts of the rescue workers, Don Tomaso strides through the upturned graves to talk to them. He’s wearing coveralls over his clerical clothes, the trousers torn and muddy.

  ‘So,’ he says, gesturing behind him, ‘the dead are waking.’

  This seems a rather macabre remark to Ruth, but Angelo laughs. ‘After all, you did want it excavated.’

  ‘It’s terrible,’ says Elsa, and she does sound upset, thinks Ruth. ‘The dead should be left to rest in peace.’

  ‘I will say Mass at six tonight if it kills me,’ says Don Tomaso. ‘We will light the candles if there’s no electricity. Will you come, Ruth? There’s something I’d like to show you.’

  Ruth would like to say no, but she feels sorry for Don Tomaso, standing there by the battered building, and he was nice to her last night. Also, she’s sure that Shona would love to attend a candlelight Mass.

  ‘OK,’ she says. ‘Thank you. I should be getting back to Kate now.’

  ‘Shall we meet by the café in half an hour?’ says Angelo.

  Ruth stares at him. ‘Why?’

  Angelo looks at her as if she’s mad. ‘The TV company. They’re filming at the site today. Remember?’

  Chapter 16

  Cathbad is walking his dog across the salt marsh beach. He’s tangentially aware that it’s Sunday – the bells were ringing in Wells that morning – and he feels that he is celebrating the Sabbath in a very spiritual way, communing with nature in the company of his animal familiar. Strictly speaking, dogs aren’t allowed on the beach during the summer months, but Cathbad views rules as guidance only, and guidance for other people at that. Besides, it’s early, and the wide sandy beach is deserted apart from Thing, a white English bull terrier, running madly in circles. The fact that he is in charge of a dog often stigmatised by the press as a ‘devil dog’ does not unduly concern Cathbad. Thing, as he explains to anyone who will listen, is a good soul who is probably the reincarnation of a woman wrongly accused of witchcraft. He has no idea why this explanation doesn’t always bring the comfort it should.

  This beach, with its miles of sand, interspersed now by pools of eerie blue, was the place where, some eighteen years earlier, Professor Erik Anderssen unearthed a Bronze Age henge, its wooden timbers emerging from the sand like the teeth of some great underwater monster. Cathbad and his fellow druids had wanted the henge to stay where it was, even though it would inevitably be swallowed up by the tides. But, although Erik had, at heart, agreed with them, the timbers had been taken away for preservation and now form a spectacular display in King’s Lynn museum.

  Cathbad stands where he thinks the sacred circle once stood and spreads out his hands to the sea and the sky. He asks them to protect his life partner, Judy, and his children, Madeleine, Michael and Miranda. Madeleine is his daughter by his first wife, Delilah, who now lives in Blackburn. The letter M, he sometimes tells people, offers significant psychic protection, but, in truth, the alliterative names are just a coincidence. Cathbad thinks of Ruth and Kate and extends the circle a little wider. Nelson’s voice then sounds in his head, as it sounded when he pulled him from the quicksand the night they tried to follow the ancient path across the marshes. ‘You’re not dead yet, Cathbad.’ Cathbad widens the circle to include Nelson and Michelle and their children.

  When he opens his eyes, Thing is sitting in front of him, head on one side, a stick in his mouth. Was this twig part of the ancient timbers, a piece of prehistoric bog oak, a messenger from another world? No, it’s just a stick. Cathbad throws it, sending the missile into the shallow sea that covers so many mysteries, so many bones, so many footprints. Thing hurtles after it, barking madly.

  *

  Nelson and Michelle are in the modern British equivalent of church: a garden centre. They follow the other couples in silent procession, occasionally adding a shrub or flowerpot to their trolley. Nelson normally loathes such places, but he is glad that Michelle is feeling well enough to be up and about at ten in the morning. She is staring rather dreamily at a flowering twig called Gardenia jasminoides. He hopes she isn’t getting inspiration for baby names.

  ‘All right, love?’ he says.

  ‘Fine,’ says Michelle, putting the jasmine in the trolley. ‘I really think that I might be over the morning sickness at last.’

  ‘Well, that’s good news at all events.’

  ‘It is. I feel human again.’ She gives him a smile and he sees that she is carefully made up (she hasn’t been bothering r
ecently) and that her hair is freshly streaked. In the hazy light of the greenhouse she suddenly looks quite dazzling.

  ‘Why don’t we have lunch in a pub?’ he says. ‘Laura and Bruno could join us.’

  ‘She’ll want to bring Chad.’ Laura has recently acquired a boyfriend. He’s less annoying that her previous beau, a public schoolboy called Andre who thought he was a hip-hop DJ, but Nelson is still at the stage of pretending that he doesn’t exist.

  He sighs. ‘She can bring Chad,’ he says, ‘as long as I don’t have to talk to him about teeth.’ Chad is a dentistry student.

  Michelle puts her arm through his. ‘You’re mellowing, Harry.’

  ‘Don’t let it get around,’ says Nelson. ‘Jo thinks I’m almost senile as it is.’

  *

  It’s not so bad filming out in the open. It’s not as claustrophobic, and Ruth hopes that her clothes won’t matter so much. Daniella seemed to spend quite a lot of time filming their feet – Ruth’s in battered Birkenstocks, Angelo’s in trendily retro trainers – as they walk across the field. Then there’s the dreaded walking and talking.

  ‘Not too fast,’ yells Daniella. The cameraman is walking backwards in front of them. Ricco is filming ‘wide-angle shots’ from the other side of the field.

  Ruth slows to a crawl.

  ‘Faster,’ yells Daniella. ‘You must look at if you’re moving fast, but actually move slowly. Get it?’

  ‘Yes,’ says Ruth. The whole thing feels completely surreal anyway. She can’t believe that she was woken in the night by an earthquake and is now walking across the sun-scorched grass talking about bones. Marta and Roberto are both at the site too. Marta says that the earthquake almost destroyed another little mountain town. ‘They’re still digging for survivors,’ she says, crossing herself. In light of this, it’s hard to worry too much about whether her bra strap is showing.

  ‘So, Ruth,’ says Angelo, once again sounding completely relaxed. ‘What did you find out about Toni?’ This section, Daniella explains, is being filmed in English with Italian subtitles, ‘to show that the Professore speaks many languages’. As far as Ruth can see, this will only make Angelo seem even cleverer and show her up for the monoglot she is.