by E. J. Kay
Watermark
E.J.Kay is the pen name of Liz Falconer. Born in Bolton, Lancashire, Liz is now a professor at a university in the South West of England. She specializes in the use of technology to enhance learning in higher education, but has had a lifelong interest in archaeology and theories of human evolution. She lives with her husband and son in the beautiful and historic county of Wiltshire. Her website is at www.ejkay.com.
Watermark
E.J.Kay
Anniversary Press Ltd
Dedications
This book is dedicated to Elaine Morgan, whose intelligence, bravery, generosity and determination are an inspiration to us all.
Also to my wonderful husband and beautiful son – my own, personal inspirations.
Author’s Note
Whilst Watermark is a work of fiction, the archaeological, historical, scientific and religious references are factual. The bibliography includes the major sources used in the book, together with suggestions for further reading. Through the medium of the fictional story the book explores some of the current thinking in the study of human evolution, focussing on the role played by water and what has become known as the “aquatic ape hypothesis”. But, if you’re not interested in the puzzles of evolution, there is still a whodunit puzzle to solve!
The aquatic ape hypothesis, or AAH, is the idea that ancestors of modern humans spent a significant amount of time in aquatic environments, and that our physiology has at least partly been shaped by adapting to living in, or very near, water. Like most hypotheses it has its strong proponents and equally strong antagonists. And some people have no time for evolution as a theory in any case, whatever the environmental arguments.
One thing seems to be clear, though. As a species we have an amazing ability to believe in things! The world can be interpreted in so many different ways. And that has always interested me. Our personalities; our experiences; our fears; our need to belong to our family, clan or identifying group: all of these seem to influence how we see the world and the evidence we choose to believe as “true”.
Personally, I love uncertainty. Because that’s when we get to ask the most interesting questions.
And sometimes an idea can just capture our imaginations.
This novel is a work of fiction. The characters and events portrayed in it are creations of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to living persons, current events or specific localities is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © E.J.Kay 2012
The author asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this book.
Published by Anniversary Press Ltd, Calne, Wiltshire, U.K.
www.anniversarypress.co.uk
ISBN: 978-0-9572078-0-6
Kindle edition
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Bibliography
Appendix 1
Chapter 1
She took in a deep breath and held it, then dived under the clear blue surface of the lake. She was good at this, the best in her group. All of the group could swim well but only a few could dive, and they only managed to stay under the water for a few seconds before they had to come up, coughing and spluttering. She could stay down long enough to gather the shellfish that clung to the rocks on the sandy floor of the lake. This was her task for today. Striking out for the bottom she saw the bed of freshwater mussels on the rocks below her, smooth and inviting as they caught the sunlight reflected from the surface ripples. Prizing the shells off the rocks was easy now that she had learned to take a small stone chip down with her. Picking up the shells, she held as many as she could in her long curved fingers and kicked back up towards the air. As her head broke the surface she saw the sparkling water stretching away into the distance, the islands rising hazily out of the lake. She turned over onto her back and headed for the nearby shore, kicking her legs whilst holding the shells against her body with her hands. When she reached shallow water she stood up and waded ashore.
She was quite tall for her sex; around five feet eight inches. The covering of fine hair that whorled around her breasts and pointed up towards her muscular shoulders was so short that the sun glistened on the dark, wet skin beneath. Her long legs were covered with fine hair too, and her sturdy, densely-muscled thighs rippled with every footfall as she waded ashore; strong legs and springy feet made walking on the wet sand easy. Her mouth jutted outwards from a heart-shaped face under pronounced brow ridges that helped to shield her eyes from the strong sunlight. There was little hair on her face, apart from thick eyebrows and a light covering on her top lip and chin. Thick, short, black hair covered the top and back of her head, where it joined the finer hair of her neck.
Many of her group were wading in the shallows and when they saw her coming back they chattered excitedly. Clicking, lip-smacking and making short, staccato vocalisations that meant “good food”, they ran towards her, splashing through the water. Shellfish were a favourite meal for the group, a real delicacy, and her ability to gather them gave her a status in the group that was higher than the other females. And many of the males. The group lived almost exclusively on fish and other aquatic animals, including the small helmeted turtles that swam in the lake. There were few other animals on any of the islands, even though many of them were large and all of them covered in rich grass and brush. There were only a few trees left now, but the shrubby plants and grasses were varied and provided a good supply of fruit, roots and vegetation. But it was water that dominated their lives. As she turned and waded back towards the deeper water to collect more shellfish, the group gathered around to prize open this latest catch with stone flake scrapers and put them on the pile of food they had prepared for the evening meal. On a high rock nearby the sentinels kept watch for signs of crocodiles, but today they didn’t seem to be interested and had stayed away from the group’s favourite fishing grounds.
The alpha male sat some distance away from the main group. He watched her swim out to the shellfish beds and dive down again, coming up soon afterwards with another large handful of shells. Squinting into the sunlight he chewed the ends of his fingers. His legs were a couple of inches longer than hers and he was covered in more hair too, although it was still fine and his skin showed through clearly. He was a good swimmer with his head above the water and he frequently swam over to neighbouring islands to hunt turtle and large fish. But, he could not dive. He had tried and tried, watching the diving female to see how she did it, but as soon as his head was underwater he would choke and splutter and have to surface quickly. When he asked her how she did it, pointing to the deeper water and making th
e ‘how?’ sound, she had said “here” and pointed to the back of her throat. To be truthful, she didn’t really know how she did it, and certainly didn’t have the words to explain. So, all he could do was watch her dive with a growing feeling of frustration grinding in his gut.
The diving female waded out to where the water came up to her waist, kicked out with an easy, strong swimming stroke, and then dived down towards the shellfish beds again. She loved this; the sense of freedom, the feeling of being an important part of the group. The clear water made seeing the shellfish bed easy, and she chose the big shells that had juicy meat inside them. She prized them off the rocks and kicked back up to the surface. Once she was back at the shore, the group picked up their scrapers again and set about releasing the flesh from the shells. At the meal that evening they had a feast of fish, shellfish, roots and fruit, roasted over the open fire. The alpha male ate his share of shellfish too, his hunger overcoming his jealousy.
In the late evening the group became quiet, all having eaten their fill, and as the sun set over the lake they sat with their backs to the land, sleepily gazing out across the water. But the alpha male didn’t relax. He couldn’t. He lay on his back in the crook of a bush, with a picture of the diving female lodged in his mind. Until recently he had admired her ability to dive so well, but lately he found it was making him more and more angry. He had become the dominant male just the year before, following on from his father who had died suddenly. Although he was quite young to be an alpha at just eighteen years old, his status still conferred the right for a small harem and he had readily exercised that right, choosing three mates from the group. Other males were also allowed to mate and couples were faithful and monogamous. Well, most of the time. The diving female was paired with another male and as such he shouldn’t touch her. But he didn’t really want to mate with her anyway. He wanted to kill her. Even though she helped to feed the group, and the group’s wellbeing was his responsibility, he simply could not overcome his growing jealousy of her. She was challenging his status; making him look smaller by making herself look bigger. Not acceptable. Something would have to be done.
In the late afternoon next day he sat on a low rock, knapping a stone. He was good at making tools this way, and it was partly due to this ability that the group had accepted his status as alpha at such a young age. Some of the stone shards he made were very sharp, and the group used them to cut the flesh of turtles out of their shells. Today he was making a large hand axe; a very useful tool for chopping through wood and brush. And hitting the diving female hard on the head. Part of him knew he should not be thinking this, and part of him knew how much he wanted to do it. The familiar knotting in his stomach returned. He wrinkled his brow, his protruding brow ridge accentuating the line above his eyes, partly from concentration but mostly from anger and frustration. He would do it tonight. Make an end of it. Give himself some peace.
Twilight came as the diving female sat with her back to the shore of the lake, gazing out across the water. Her mate and their two children had gone back to the night rest site with the rest of the group, but she remained at the water’s edge alone, drinking in the last of the sunset. The alpha male approached from behind, slowly and quietly. Now was his chance. Twilight doesn’t last long in tropical Africa; he would have to make his move quickly. There was still enough light to see by, but only just. As he got near her she heard him and turned around. At first she raised her eyebrows and smiled in greeting, but when she saw the look on his face she knew she was in trouble. She jumped up and instinctively ran towards the water as fast as she could. But he was too fast for her. He caught up with her before she could reach the water, grabbed hold of her arm and pulled her round towards him, raising the axe in his right hand. He brought it down on the back of her head with a crunching thud, burying the point into the base of her skull. She hardly made a noise, just a low moan, and slumped in his arms. He dropped her, and the axe, and ran back to the undergrowth, resisting the temptation to look behind him. His heart was pounding with exhilaration; he almost beat his chest, but then remembered that this was not an action he wanted share with the rest of the group. He crouched down behind a bush and watched her.
She pulled herself up on her arms and saw the axe in front of her. Picking it up she crawled to the edge of the lake where she managed to stand up and wade out a little. The back of her head burned and ached and she yearned to get into the water to take the pain away. She would give the axe to the lake as an offering, in return for its help. Groggily she swam out towards her favourite shellfish beds, the blood that trailed out behind her leaving a scarlet streak in the gently rippling water. As she looked out over the lake to the deep red sky where the sun had set, she let the axe fall from her hand; it sank and hit the sandy bottom, raising a cloud around it. The islands became fuzzy and indistinct as she began to lose consciousness; she blacked out and slipped under the surface, the air escaping from her lungs in small bubbles as her body sank down to the shellfish beds and draped, face down, over one of the rocks. As a gentle underwater current lifted her feet slightly, they caught under the edge of the rock. The last remaining bubbles of her breath rose slowly, leaving her at peace at the bottom of the lake.
Chapter 2
Joseph stepped out of the shower and leaned over to pull a towel off the rail.
“Mm, mm,” called his wife from the bed, with a wolf-whistle intonation. He bowed jokingly, his shoulder-length hair falling forward over his face, and then carried on drying himself, smiling. He was a good-looking man, tall and light-skinned, and although he had turned fifty the previous September he still had a lean body and an athletic build. He held the good Irish family name of Connor; as clear a testament to his Celtic roots as his black hair and sapphire eyes.
“So, Alec is back tomorrow then?” asked Anna.
“Yes, together with his new girlfriend. She’s a little older than him. About one and a half million years. And dead. His perfect partner.” Joseph hung the towel back on the rail, closed the bathroom door and fell onto the bed. “I foresee a long and happy relationship, unlike the ones he’s had with live women.”
“Aw, poor Alec, he can’t help how he is. And you know you always stick up for him in the end.”
Joseph yawned. “Yes, I do. He’s a good man with a good brain. I don’t think he’d survive anywhere other than a university though. He just has no idea how to deal with people. I’m amazed he managed to talk the Kenyan authorities into allowing him to bring the fossils back with him. I must admit I’m glad he did though. I can’t wait to take a look at them myself.”
“Old bones,” teased Anna, stretching lazily. “What are they good for?”
Joseph put his arms around his wife’s waist and pulled her tight against his damp skin, making her giggle. “I’ll show you what old bones are good for,” he whispered.
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Mike Osewe stood at the office window, gazing out across the grey, wet city to the Irish Sea in the distance. The University of the North West of England’s archaeology and palaeontology department was housed in an old building that had started out as a mental hospital in the 1870’s. The rooms all had high ceilings and the corridor walls were still covered with dark green ceramic tiles from the floor to the wooden dado rail, topped off with the characteristic cream tiles that were all the rage in Victorian institutional buildings. The long corridors were lined with thick wooden doors under frosted glass transom lights and, despite attempts to brighten up the walls with maps and pictures, the gloomy atmosphere of illness and institution still hung in the air.
A light knock came at Mike’s office door; he shouted “hello” just as it opened. A smart, short-haired female head wearing designer glasses peered in.
“Ah, Mike, is Joseph about?”
“No, he’s teaching just now, but he should be back in about ten minutes. Do you want me to ask him to see you?”
“Oh, yes please. I’ll be in my office for the next hour or so.” Professor Juliet Bail
ey, Dean of the Faculty of Science, pulled the door closed behind her. Mike wrote a note on Joseph’s desk pad in case he forgot to give him the message and found himself wondering for the umpteenth time why Juliet used email so infrequently. She always seemed to prefer to walk around the corridors to make contact. It was a good habit, he supposed, as it made her visible in the faculty, and she did have a particular interest in the department of archaeology and palaeontology. Although she spent a significant part of her time managing the faculty of science, she was still an archaeologist of considerable distinction herself.
He returned to his position at the window to watch the steady rain cascade across the mottled slate roof of the town hall. When Joseph came back into the office fifteen minutes later, Mike was still lost in thought. He jumped as Joseph put his books down on the desk. “Oh, hi. Er, Juliet wants to see you,” he said.
“What, now?”
“In your own time, as long as that’s in the next forty minutes!”
“Did she say what it was about?”
Mike shook his head and returned to his window vigil. “Nope.”
“You OK?”
Mike turned round again. “Yeah, I’m fine. Look, I’ll tell you when you get back from your meeting with Juliet. It’s no big deal, honestly.”
“Hopefully I won’t be long. But you know what Juliet can be like.”
The office door was closed when Joseph got there, so he went round to her PA’s office.
“Hi Mary,” he said. “Juliet wanted to see me. Her door’s closed so I guess she’s busy?”
“She’s just on the phone, she won’t be a minute. Take a seat. I’ll let her know you’re here when she’s finished her call.”
Juliet’s office was part of the Faculty Executive suite and had a door leading directly out onto the corridor, as well as one that lead through to the central office shared by the two PAs who looked after the dean, the two associate deans and the faculty administrator. Her executive colleagues always kept their corridor doors closed, forcing any visitors to enter through this central office. But Juliet deliberately kept her corridor door open if she weren’t busy. The faculty was large and sprawling and the previous dean had been very distant. Juliet was determined to have an accessible and open feel to her deanship.
