The Janus Stone

black calf. A calf with two heads.

CHAPTER 23

‘What is it?’

‘It’s an exhibit,’ says Nelson, ‘from the museum. Just like the baby.’

Ruth had called Nelson immediately and he was with her in ten minutes. He is wearing a tracksuit and his hair is wet. ‘I was at the gym,’ he says, seeing her questioning glance.

‘I thought you hated the gym.’

‘It was Michelle’s idea. We go before work. Not bad when you get used to it. I like the pool. A swim sets you up for the day.’

‘If you say so.’

Nelson is kneeling in her front garden, examining the calf which, she now sees, is stuffed. Close up, it looks less sinister and more pathetic, its fur threadbare in places, its four eyes glassy. The second head is really just a protrusion from the neck with rudimentary ears and muzzle. The eyes have obviously been added by the taxidermist to contribute to the freak effect. Ruth feels sorry for it but she still wishes that it hadn’t turned up on her doorstep. Is it an offering from whoever was lurking outside her house last night?

‘The Two-Headed Calf of Aylsham,’ says Nelson, straightening up.

‘What?’

‘Like I said, it’s from the museum. They’ve got a collection of stuffed animals. Apparently this little chap was quite famous in Victorian times. Used to travel round with one of these fairs exhibiting freaks and suchlike.’

‘But how did the Two-Headed Calf of Aylsham end up on my doorstep?’ asks Ruth, aware that she sounds both petulant and terrified.

Nelson shrugs but his face is sombre. ‘I don’t know. I’ll get back on to the museum today. I was only there yesterday.’

‘Were you? Why?’

‘Asking about the model baby. Seems that someone likes leaving these things for you to find.’

But why, thinks Ruth. And why does she get the feeling that the person, whoever it is, is getting nearer and nearer, is becoming angrier and angrier. Aloud she says, ‘Would you like breakfast? A cup of coffee?’

‘No thanks. I’d better be getting on. I’ll take Chummy with me.’ And, pulling on plastic gloves, he staggers off down the path, carrying the two-headed calf.

Ruth watches him go. The sight is made more surreal by the fact that the mist is still clinging to the ground, obliterating everything up to waist height. Nelson’s torso, with the weird two-headed shape beside it, seems to be floating on a white cloud. Ruth shivers. The morning air is cold and she is wearing only a jumper pulled on hastily over her pyjamas. She is sure that her hair is standing up wildly and her face feels puffy from sleep. She must have presented a nice contrast to Michelle, whom Nelson would have left at the gym, her toned body encased in a designer tracksuit. Oh well. She pads over the wet grass towards the cottage. She’ll have a shower and get dressed. She is due at the hospital at ten. It’s time for her next scan.

But, before she can get to the bathroom, her phone rings. It’s Nelson ringing from his car. ‘I’m thinking it’s not safe for you to be alone in the house with this nutter out there. Have you got anywhere you can go?’

‘No,’ says Ruth flatly. Once, under similar circumstances, she stayed with Shona. Never again.

Nelson sighs. ‘Then I’ll send someone to sleep at the cottage.’

‘No!’

‘I have to, Ruth. You’re in danger.’

‘All right. As long as it’s not Clough.’

He laughs. ‘I’ll send my best WPC.’

Ruth puts down the phone feeling both irritated and obscurely comforted. She stumps back upstairs and goes into the bathroom. She feels exhausted already and it’s not nine o’clock yet. Just as she steps into the shower, the phone rings again. Bloody Nelson. Probably just ringing to tell her not to slip on the soap. She considers leaving it but the fear that the call might be bad news (something happening to one of her parents) makes her descend the stairs again.

It’s Max. ‘Hi, Ruth. Hope I’m not ringing too early. Just wondered how you were feeling, you know, after Saturday.’

Was it only Saturday night that she was in hospital? It seems weeks ago. ‘I’m fine,’ she says.

‘I was wondering… about your Norwich site…’

‘Yes?’

‘Well, could I come over and have a look? You mentioned that you’d found some Roman pottery…’

Ruth is silent for a moment. She knows that she invited Max to visit the Woolmarket Street site but she hardly expected him to take her up on the offer. The Roman finds have hardly been significant and the building work is starting again today. Why does Max suddenly want to see the site? Could it possibly be because he wants to see her again?

‘I’ve got an appointment at ten,’ she says, ‘but I could meet you on the site at eleven thirty.’

‘Perfect. I’ll see you then.’

This time she runs back upstairs and sings in the shower.

The Two-Headed Calf of Aylsham causes quite a stir at the station.

‘See you’ve got a new pet, boss.’ This is Clough.

‘How disgusting.’ Leah.

‘What’s it doing here?’ Judy.

‘Is it from the museum?’ Tanya, bright-eyed and eager.

Nelson puts the calf in the incident room. He doesn’t want it in his office; the glassy stare is beginning to freak him out.

‘Cloughie! I want you to take this thing back to the museum and find out how it got out.’

‘Maybe it just fancied a walk?’

Nelson ignores this. ‘Find out who had access to the exhibits. Tanya!’

‘Yes?’

‘I need you to look after Sir Roderick Spens. He’s coming in today for a DNA test.’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Judy, I need you to stay with Ruth Galloway for a few days.’

Judy looks put out for some reason. He hopes she isn’t going moody on him. ‘Why?’ she asks.

‘Because I think someone is going to try to kill her.’

This scan seems very different from the first. Ruth knows what to expect and, having had a scan after her accident, she feels pretty sure that the baby is all right. She can even feel him moving now, little butterfly motions rippling across her stomach, quite unlike any other sensation she has ever experienced. ‘It feels as if something’s moving about inside me,’ she had said in answer to Shona’s query. ‘But that’s what it is,’ Shona had replied.

She is ushered into the room with the ultrasound. They are running late as usual and she begins to worry that she won’t get to the site for eleven thirty. The technician rubs gel onto her stomach and, miraculously soon, there are the grey, cloudy insides of her womb. Ruth leans forward.

‘There’s the baby’s legs. Long legs.’ The technician presses some buttons. ‘There’s a good one of the face.’ Ruth looks and sees only overlapping shapes, like a Cubist painting. The technician points, ‘There’s the nose.’ And then Ruth sees an actual profile: forehead, tiny nose, lips, chin. She even thinks she can discern an expression, stern and serious.

‘Do you want to know the sex?’ asks the technician.