The Janus Stone

‘Who was he?’ he asks.

‘His name’s Lee,’ says Laura sulkily. ‘Mum’s met him,’ she adds, as if this makes it all right.

A fresh horror strikes Nelson’s heart. ‘Does your mother know…?’

‘No!’ Laura’s shocked response somehow reassures him. At least Laura has had the decency to hide her sex life from her parents. At least Michelle isn’t colluding with her daughters behind his back.

‘I want you both to stay downstairs,’ he says.

It is gradually beginning to dawn on Rebecca that there is more to her father’s behaviour than the usual parental paranoia.

‘Dad,’ she says, ‘what’s going on?’

‘Nothing,’ Nelson starts to dial Judy’s number.

‘You said someone was threatening us.’

‘Just some nutter,’ says Nelson, trying to sound reassuring. ‘There’s nothing to worry about, I promise you.’

Both the girls now look completely terrified. They huddle together on the sofa and Rebecca automatically switches on the TV. Nelson is about to shout at her to turn it off but then he thinks that maybe they could do with the soothing mindlessness of MTV or Hollyoaks. Certainly, Laura and Rebecca both relax slightly when the screen is filled with loud Americans exchanging complicated handshakes.

Then the doorbell rings and they both scream.

‘It’s only Cloughie,’ says Nelson. ‘Stay here!’ he barks, slightly ruining the calming effect.

But it isn’t Clough. It’s Cathbad. He is wearing what Nelson calls his ‘semi-Druid’ costume; jeans and T-shirt covered by a tattered purple cloak. But his expression as he grasps Nelson’s arm is devoid of any play-acting. He looks in deadly earnest.

‘Nelson. I think something’s happened to Ruth.’

Judy presses ‘redial’ again and again as she runs through the rainswept Southport streets. Why the hell isn’t Nelson answering his phone? Passing pensioners and glum-looking tourists turn to stare as she races past them. Probably no one has moved that fast in Southport for the last fifty years. When she arrives at the convent, she is wild-haired and out of breath, still punching redial with one finger.

‘Can… I… see… Sister Immaculata please?’

‘I’m sorry, it’s out of the question.’ The nun at the door looks faintly accusing. ‘She’s had a very bad turn. The doctor’s with her now.’

‘I’ll wait,’ pants Judy.

‘She won’t be seeing anyone else today.’

At first Nelson hardly takes in what Cathbad is saying. Then, slowly, the wheels turn in his head and his whole body is suddenly icy cold. Ruth… his daughter. I’m going to kill your daughter. Could whoever sent this message possibly know that Ruth is carrying his daughter inside her? He goes so pale that Cathbad looks concerned.

‘Are you all right?’

‘What’s happened to Ruth?’

‘We were meant to meet at the Swaffham site. But when I got there there was no sign of her. And I found this in one of the trenches.’

He holds out Ruth’s phone.

‘You’d better come in,’ says Nelson.

The girls hardly look up as the cloaked figure passes through the sitting room. They are deeply involved in some rubbish involving American high school pupils, loud rock music and vampires. Nelson and Cathbad talk in the kitchen, amongst Michelle’s gleaming work surfaces and the cork-board groaning with invitations, shopping lists and school timetables. It seems almost impossible that evil should come here, into this sunny family room, but they both know that it has; they both feel its shadow.

‘I went to her cottage,’ Cathbad is saying. ‘It’s completely deserted.’

‘The university?’

‘No one there. Her office is locked.’

Nelson picks up Ruth’s phone. His was the last number she dialled. He looks at his own phone, six missed calls from Judy Johnson and, before that, one from Ruth Galloway.

It is a shock when his phone rings again. Judy Johnson.

‘Johnson. What is it?’

‘Roderick Spens sir. I think he was the father.’

‘What?’

‘Sister Immaculata. I thought the baby was Sir Christopher’s but now I think it was Roderick’s. He would have been about fourteen or fifteen when it was conceived. Sister Immaculata, Orla, would have been twenty.’

‘She had an affair with a fourteen-year-old?’

‘I think so. Sister Immaculata said he called her his Jocasta. Jocasta was the mother of Oedipus.’

‘Classical scholar, are you now?’

‘I looked it up.’

‘Have you confronted this Sister Immaculata?’

‘She’s too ill to speak to me.’

Nelson remembers Dr Patel saying that Sir Roderick’s mind was ‘remarkably sharp’. He remembers that, when Ruth texted to say that she was expecting a girl and he had rung her back, Sir Roderick had actually been in his office, dithering about and pretending to be a sweet little old man.

‘Are you still there, sir?’

‘Yes. Good work, Judy. Keep trying to see the nun. I’ll call you later.’

He clicks off the phone. Cathbad leans forward and Nelson sees not the fey Druid but the scientist, the man who would, incredibly enough, have made rather a good policeman.

‘Nelson,’ he says. ‘I think Max Grey has kidnapped Ruth.’

30th June Day of Aestas

I hadn’t expected this. Socrates may favour dialogue but I don’t. The last thing I needed was a chat with the infant. Apart from anything else, my time was limited. The maids would be back at midday and the mother could come in at any moment.

Then I had a brainwave. ‘Keep quiet,’ I said, ‘I’ve got a surprise for you.’

I bent over the bed. I had hoped she was asleep but she wasn’t. Her eyes were open and she looked at me.

She obeyed my order, even putting her finger to her lips. I’m obviously born to command. In fact, I think I’ve got quite a gift with children.

‘Lie still,’ I said. And I pulled the knife out of my pocket.

I raised the knife. She laughed. Sacrilege! I lowered the knife slightly and looked at her. Then she started to cry.

CHAPTER 32

When Ruth opens her eyes it is still dark. She is not scared at first. Instead she feels rather sleepy, soothing memories rocking to and fro in her head: picnicking with her mother and brother in Castle Wood, listening to the radio with her dad, floating in the sea, hair streaming back amongst the seaweed, sleeping on a beach in the sun. Even when she realises that she is, in fact, lying tied up on a narrow bed, she is not immediately filled with terror. The pleasant memories persist along with the gentle rocking motion. Then, as if in an effort to rouse her, the baby