The Crossing Places

'Company,' Nelson grunts. 'Jesus. Couldn't he have joined a computer club?'

Why not indeed, thinks Ruth, looking out at the sea. Why does anyone do anything? Why does she remain here, on the Saltmarsh, where so many awful things have happened? Why is Nelson still in love with his wife, although they have nothing in common? Why does Phil still not believe that the henge and the causeway are linked? Why is she fat and Shona thin? There's no answer to any of it. But, she thinks, smiling to herself as the cold water foams over her bare feet, somehow none of that matters today. She's happy with her life, here on the desolate coast. She wouldn't change any of it. She likes her job, her friends, her home. And besides, she thinks, smiling even more widely to herself; I'm not fat, I'm pregnant. She has no intention of telling Nelson, though. Not yet.

Nelson too is gazing out to sea. 'What's happened about the Iron Age girl?' he asks suddenly. 'The one who started all this?'

Ruth smiles. 'They're calling her Ruth, you know, after me. I call her the lost girl of the marshes. I'm writing a paper about her.'

'Do you know any more about why she died?'

'Not really. She seems to be from a wealthy family, her nails are manicured and we've done tests on her hair that prove she had good nutrition. But no-one knows why she was tied down on the marsh and left to die. Maybe it was to ensure safe passage over the marsh. Maybe she was an offering to the Gods. But, really, we don't know.'

'Seems to me it's all a lot of guesswork,' says Nelson.

Ruth smiles. 'The questions are more important than the answers.'

'If you say so.'

And they turn and walk back towards the dunes.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The Saltmarsh and its henge are completely imaginary.

There was, however, a bronze-age henge found in North Norfolk, at Holme-next-the-Sea. For descriptions of this henge I am indebted to Francis Pryor's marvellous book Seahenge (HarperCollins).

The University of North Norfolk and the King's Lynn police force are also entirely fictional. Thanks to Derek Hoey and Graham Ranger for their insights into modern policing and to Michael Whitehead for supplying the Blackpool background. I am also grateful to Andrew Maxted and Lucy Sibun for their archaeological expertise.

However, in all these cases, I have taken the experts' advice only as far as it suits the plot and any resulting inaccuracies are mine alone.

Thanks to Jane Wood and all at Quercus for their hard work on my behalf. Thanks, as ever, to Tif Loehnis, Rebecca Folland and all at Janklow and Nesbit. Love and thanks always to my husband Andrew and our children, Alex and Juliet.

Elly Griffiths

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