The Beautiful Mother

by Katherine Scholes

  Essie closed her eyes. All the time the search party was scouring the area, he’d been already dead. There had been no unheard cries, no drawn-out pain. At most, there had been a few seconds of panic – and then nothing. That, at least, was a blessing.

  ‘Someone else is here.’

  For a moment, Essie questioned the African’s use of English. Something, surely . . . Then her eyes snapped open. She saw Simon crouching beside Robbie, examining the ground. As she walked towards him familiar patterns came into view – a chain of vertebrae; a rack of ribs; long bones of legs, arms; angled joints of knees and elbows. Lying beside Robbie – partly under him, in fact – was what looked like a full skeleton. It had been here a lot longer than he had. Every fragment of skin, hair, flesh was gone. There were just the bones, half buried in the ground.

  Possibilities chased through Essie’s head. Had a tribesman, wandering in the foothills, fallen in from above, just as Robbie had done? Was this a burial chamber, where a body had been laid to rest? Maybe there was even some link with the paintings. Essie felt a burst of excitement. In archaeology, context was everything. Imagine if they could put the remains of a person together with the artwork. There might be tools to collect, even grave goods . . .

  She moved further around, to where the skull would be. It was obscured by Robbie’s arm. For a few seconds she hesitated – the child’s body had been resting here for so long she didn’t want to disturb it. Then she bent down and grasped the sleeve of the shirt. Pulling against the resistance of dried connective tissue, she managed to gently lift the limb. The rotten fabric tore, letting the arm flop back down. She glimpsed the skull for only an instant before it was hidden again. But the image of the yellowed orb was seared into her mind.

  The cranium was bulbous, accommodating a large brain. Yet the overall shape was too oval for a modern human. The forehead sloped back, like an Australopithecine’s. But only a little. From all her studies and experience in the field, Essie knew what this meant. The skeleton was nothing to do with the Neolithic people who’d painted the walls of the cave. It came from a completely different era.

  It was impossible not to take another look. This time she took hold of the arm itself, and moved the limb to one side, resting it on the earth. She aimed her torch directly at the skull. The brow ridges were clearly visible, yet not too pronounced. The chin did not recede, but nor did it thrust forward like her own. The teeth were prominent, like those of all human antecedents from the ape to the Australopithecine.

  Essie felt as if she was caught in a dream: her eyes could not be reading what was really there. She blinked and stared again. In front of her lay a creature that was neither ape-like nor a modern human. He or she was something in between.

  ‘It’s an erectus.’ Her voice was just a whisper. ‘Has to be.’

  Simon met her gaze. She knew he understood as well as she did what this meant. It was the proof the Lawrences and the Leakeys had always dreamed of finding: that our closest ancestor, Homo erectus, had lived here in Africa. The implications of the discovery played out in Essie’s head – familiar, but still extraordinary. The news would send shock waves through the musty corridors of universities from Cambridge to Berlin. No one would be able to say any more that Europe and Asia held centrestage in our story. When this skeleton was added to all the evidence of Australopithecines that had been found in Africa – with no traces unearthed anywhere else – it tipped the balance of evidence towards the idea that this continent truly was the cradle of humanity. In the beginning, we were all Africans.

  Essie gazed along the full length of the skeleton. The degree of preservation was astonishing – only possible because the cave was so dry and so isolated, set into this arid hillside at the foot of the sacred volcano. Archaeologists founded whole careers on single fragments of bones, or a tooth. Here was a complete specimen. The way the teeth were worn would give clues to this person’s diet; the bones would show evidence of wear and tear, maybe injuries as well, hinting at their lifestyle. And that was just the start – there was a wealth of information just waiting to be mined. It would form an unimaginably detailed picture of this groundbreaking species who’d survived on planet earth over a million years ago.

  Essie turned to Simon, who was still crouched over the site. He shifted his weight on his haunches, then reached out his hand.

  ‘Don’t move anything,’ Essie said quickly. She leaned closer, studying the matrix into which the skeleton was set. She brushed the earth with the toe of her boot, leaving a line in the surface. The sandstone dust was only partly fossilised. It would make the excavation much easier, but in the meantime, the remains could easily be dislodged.

  Simon didn’t seem to have heard. He gestured at the skeleton. ‘This one is too old. And we don’t know who he is. He’s not our responsibility.’ He turned to Robbie. ‘But he is close to us.’

  Before Essie could react, he grasped the child’s head with both hands. With a careful movement he set it straight, on the neck. Then he tilted it, just a little, in the opposite direction.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Essie frowned with incomprehension. It was as if he hoped to repair the boy’s fatal injury.

  Simon looked to the far end of the cave. ‘His head must be pointed this way – towards the mountain. Otherwise his spirit cannot go back into his body and collect the shadow.’

  Essie swallowed. ‘Shadow?’

  ‘The shadow is the food of the spirit. When we die, our spirit leaves. It goes away to dig in the earth. Then it returns to gain more strength. It must enter through the head, but if it is in the wrong position, it cannot succeed. In my area there are three sacred mountains. For someone lying here, there is only one – Ol Doinyo Lengai.’

  He stood up, his hands resting against his sides. He nodded slowly, gazing down at Robbie. In that moment, Essie was struck by the fact that there was no sense of this place being eerie. The shadows seemed to wrap themselves softly around the two figures nestled together on the ground.

  ‘Now we should go,’ Simon said. ‘This is not a place where we can be.’

  Essie heard something in his voice that reminded her of the straightforward way he’d spoken about the meaning of darkness, and the epeme. It was clear, certain; cloaked in awe, yet without any sign of fear. She took a last look at Robbie. A final scan of the bones. Then she turned her torch away, letting the dark close in behind.

  She checked on Mara, who seemed on the edge of falling asleep. Then she called Rudie to heel and set off after Simon, making sure Tommy was following behind her. As she navigated the darkness, she kept seeing Robbie’s mummified body and thinking of what this would mean to Julia. She pictured the bones protruding from under the boy and had a flash image of herself in the Dining Tent announcing her discovery of a Homo erectus skeleton. She heard Simon’s words. This is not a place where we can be. They reminded her of what Kisani had said about trespassing in the realm of Lengai. Every image or thought that came into her head seemed to be pulling in a different direction. It was impossible to absorb the enormity of all that had just occurred. She forced herself to focus on finding a safe path over the uneven ground.

  Essie was about halfway across the cave containing the bodies when something caught her eye, picked up in the sweeping beam of her torch. It was small, shiny. She couldn’t think what it could be. She took a few seconds to pinpoint the location. Then she stood still, staring in disbelief. In front of her lay an old-fashioned mechanical pencil. The tarnished silver glinted in the light.

  As she bent to pick it up, she was aware of Simon coming to stand next to her. She turned the object over in her hand, feeling its cool weight. Engraved into the silver, in lacy script, was a name. Lifting it closer, she deciphered the letters.

  W. G. Stein.

  ‘The missionary,’ said Simon. ‘He was in here.’

  Essie looked at the pencil resting on her palm, imagining it dropping from the man’s pocket. He’d left Magadi a decade before Robbie’s death. Stein
would have had a clear view of the skeleton; he’d have understood the import of what he’d stumbled across. He’d seen the extraordinary cave paintings, too. And he had chosen to keep news of both discoveries entirely to himself.

  Simon met Essie’s gaze, his eyes just a gleam in the darkness. As if picking up the unease in the atmosphere, Mara stirred. Essie slipped the pencil into her pocket, then patted the baby’s back with her hand. She watched Simon turn away, heading for the tunnel that would lead them out of this place. The jerky movements of his torch betrayed his eagerness to be gone.

  SEVENTEEN

  Julia peered through a pair of close-up glasses as she scraped at a hunk of rock with a dental pick. A half-smoked cigarette rested in an ashtray on the table beside her. Meg lounged at her feet, idly scratching one ear with her hind leg. In another part of the Work Hut, Ian and Diana were sorting through a tray of specimens. It was late afternoon. The last round of tea for the day had just been drunk; cups and saucers still sat among the scattered rocks and bones.

  Essie hovered at a distance, watching the three people absorbed in their tasks. She felt a spike of dismay as she saw how closely Ian and Diana were sitting – the intimate way their shoulders rested comfortably together. But Essie couldn’t afford to think about this now. She had to work out how she was going to deliver her news. The impact on Julia, especially, of hearing that Robbie’s body had been found was going to be huge. The other discoveries were momentous, too, but in a completely different way. It was impossible to imagine how the two revelations could be absorbed at the same time.

  Essie clasped her hands together tensely. She was glad Simon had taken Mara away to the nursery. The baby was hungry and tired; the long day had worn her out. Even if this hadn’t been the case, Essie would still have handed her over, along with Tommy. The scene was going to be complicated enough without her having to think about a baby. She felt as if she was standing on the edge of a tranquil pond, about to cause a disturbance that would send waves crashing to its edges.

  But delaying was not going to change anything. Taking a deep breath, Essie made herself start walking – just putting one foot in front of the other. When her presence was noticed she’d have no choice but to speak. Then somehow, her words would find their own path.

  As Essie neared the hut, Rudie ran ahead to greet Meg, bumping Julia’s table with his wagging tail. A cup rattled on its saucer.

  ‘Get out of here,’ Julia said irritably. She glanced up. As she met Essie’s gaze, her hands stilled. It was as if Essie’s thoughts were travelling ahead of her – the look that ran between the two women was instantly potent.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ asked Julia. ‘What’s happened?’ There was a faint clatter as she put down the stone and pick.

  Essie approached her slowly, as one would a wild animal that might startle. In front of the table, she stopped. ‘We found Robbie’s body.’

  Julia’s eyes widened. She took in a sharp breath. ‘What?’

  Essie heard the creak of Ian’s chair as he stood up. She tore her gaze from Julia and turned to her husband. He was staring at her, his expression caught between incomprehension and shock.

  ‘He’s in a cave,’ Essie said. ‘He fell through a crevice. It was a long way down. His . . .’ Suddenly she felt swamped by the enormity of what she was saying; she had to force herself to keep going. ‘His neck was broken – you can tell.’

  Julia’s lips moved as if she was trying to make sense of Essie’s words by repeating them to herself. Ian was frozen, his arms clamped to his sides. Diana was watching him, a puzzled look on her face. Even in the midst of the scene Essie felt a flicker of satisfaction that she clearly had no idea who Robbie was.

  ‘Where is the cave?’ Julia gasped out the question.

  ‘Over in the foothills. We’ve been scouting there.’ Essie glanced at Ian. ‘We moved up from the lakeshore.’

  Ian shook his head, frowning. ‘But how could you possibly know it’s him? It’s probably some African child . . .’

  Essie flinched at his tone. Did he think she’d march in here and say something like this, if she didn’t know for certain it was true?

  ‘The cave is very dry,’ she responded. ‘He’s like one of those mummies they found in Peru. You can see his blond hair. His clothes . . . He’s wearing a checked shirt.’ She turned to Julia. ‘Turquoise and red.’

  Julia’s hands rose, trembling, to cover her mouth. A low moan escaped between her fingers. On her face Essie watched shock evolving into pain as old grief – long scarred over – was ripped open. Meg stood up, ears lifted in concern, thrusting her nose towards her mistress’s face.

  ‘Oh, my God.’ Ian closed his eyes, tilting back his head.

  Essie bit her lip, almost drawing blood. She wanted to go and put her arms around him, holding him tight – she could see he was being drawn back into his childhood nightmare. But at the same time she could feel the weight of the other part of her story still waiting to be told. It was like a physical presence in the air. There were two bodies in the cave, their bones literally lying against one another. Their stories were bound together.

  She turned from Ian to Julia and back. ‘We found something else in the cave.’ She hunted for the best words. ‘Other human remains.’

  Ian looked at her in confusion. ‘You mean . . . my brother was with someone when he died?’

  Julia’s face jerked up. ‘Who?’

  Essie shook her head. ‘The bones are fossilised. Very old. From the skull, I’m ninety per cent certain . . .’ Her voice trailed off. The words were too outrageous to be uttered.

  ‘Of what?’ Ian demanded.

  Essie swallowed. ‘It’s a Homo erectus.’

  Ian stared at her in frank disbelief. She didn’t blame him. The claim was so unlikely to be true.

  ‘You found a skull?’ he said. ‘Intact?’

  ‘More than that. A whole skeleton.’

  Ian exhaled abruptly; it was almost a laugh. ‘That’s impossible.’

  ‘I know what I saw,’ Essie insisted. In a voice that sounded surprisingly calm, even to her, she explained how Robbie’s body was lying on top of the skeleton, but that she’d been able to examine the skull, and had also seen parts of the spine, pelvis and limb bones. As she described the anatomy, the Latin names rolling off her tongue, she was conscious of how incongruous it was to be speaking this way, only moments after the revelation about Robbie. It was like the day of her mother’s funeral. One minute people were expressing their sympathy; the next they were talking about the weather, clothes, food, cars – as if reality existed in separate strands that could run alongside one another without touching.

  By the time Essie finished talking Ian had begun to nod, almost imperceptibly. She knew he’d had to accept that – at the very least – she might have found something significant. It was not as if she was an amateur, after all, or some semi-skilled volunteer. Most of her field experience had been acquired at her husband’s side.

  ‘And there are paintings?’ he queried.

  ‘At least a dozen of them. Similar to the ones in the Painted Cave. Maybe even done by the same people.’ Essie hesitated for a second, but then pushed on. She was like someone making a confession: she wanted to say everything – get it all out, in one go. ‘While I was in the cave I also found this.’ She produced the silver pencil from her pocket.

  Ian examined the object in stunned silence. Then he spoke in a whisper. ‘W. G. Stein.’

  ‘What is it?’ Diana asked. She was like someone engrossed in a stage play; she kept looking from one character to another, not wanting to miss anything.

  Ian didn’t respond to her question. Essie ignored her as well. This was not a time to be dealing with an outsider. She went to stand near Julia. The woman was just staring straight ahead. She’d betrayed no reaction to the information about the skeleton, the paintings, the pencil – but that was not surprising. What mother would be able to think of anything, at a time like this, but the news about her
dead child?

  Essie bent down to look directly into Julia’s eyes, peering past the smeared glass of her spectacles.

  ‘Robbie didn’t suffer,’ she said. ‘He was lying right where he fell. He must have died instantly.’

  Essie searched her mother-in-law’s face, waiting for her reaction. All the Lawrences’ worst fears could now be laid to rest. Robbie had not been abducted or consumed by a predator. He’d met with a terrible, yet simple, accident. Surely it was a huge relief to know this. But if Julia felt this way, she showed no sign of it. Essie wondered if, after her initial reaction, the woman was now struggling to grasp the enormity of what had been said. A sudden thought came to Essie. Reaching into her trouser pocket, she extracted the little sandshoe. She held it out.

  Julia remained still, her fingers gripping the edge of the table. Essie peered into the tiny dark cave of the shoe, glimpsing Ian’s name written on the back of the tongue. She turned the shoe over. It was so small it weighed almost nothing. After a few moments she placed it on the table. In spite of the yellow laces and blue canvas upper, the object looked oddly at home among the chunks of flint and ochre, and the bits and pieces of bones and fossils. The shoe was a relic, after all – the same as they were. Essie pictured it bagged up and labelled.

  Item of footwear.

  Juvenile Homo sapiens.

  Modern era.

  Ian walked across and picked it up. He narrowed his eyes as if straining to see more clearly.

  ‘We didn’t remove it,’ Essie said. ‘Rudie had it in his mouth. That’s how we knew to search the cave. It was pitch black in there.’

  Ian tightened his hold on the shoe, almost crushing it in his hand. His jaw was clenched, a muscle flickering in his cheek. Words burst from his lips.

  ‘Why didn’t I hear him?’ His voice cracked. ‘Why didn’t I find him?’