own. Those terrible moments in the water when she saw not her own life, but Kate’s, unfold in front of her, made her realise that it was dangerous for Kate’s welfare to depend so entirely on one person. She is not particularly scared of dying but she is terrified of leaving Kate on her own. So she agreed to have Kate baptised into the Catholic Church, only making the stipulation that Father Hennessey should come from Sussex to perform the service. She has also made a will, naming Nelson and Michelle as Kate’s guardians in the event of her death. She doesn’t feel any qualms about leaving Kate in Michelle’s care. She’s a good mother and, this way, Kate will be able to be brought up with her half-sisters. Far better than a sterile existence with Ruth’s parents in South London.
Nelson explained to Michelle that Ruth had been brought up a Catholic and had decided on the christening ‘just to be on the safe side, belt and braces job’. Michelle had accepted this without question. She is spectacularly uninterested in religion and has never questioned Nelson’s decision to have their children baptised as Catholics. If you have to be something, why not Catholic? That’s her view. At least you can dress girls beautifully for their First Holy Communion.
Michelle herself is dressed beautifully today. She is wearing a pink flowered dress and beaded cardigan. Ruth, in dark trousers and a white shirt, feels distinctly outclassed. At least Cathbad, complete with cloak, evens things up a bit. Ruth decided that it would just be too weird to have only Nelson and Michelle as godparents, so she has asked Cathbad and Shona as well. The more the merrier. And, as Father Hennessey pointed out, three of the four are actually baptised Catholics.
‘I’m not exactly a practising Catholic,’ said Cathbad, with modest understatement.
‘Oh you can never get away from the Catholic church,’ smiled Father Hennessey. ‘You be a devil worshipper if you like, you’ll still be a lapsed Catholic to us.’
Tatjana had called Cathbad a devil worshipper, Ruth remembers. She never worked out whether this was a joke or not. She does know, though, that Tatjana has moved a long way from the Catholicism of her childhood. The night after Tatjana came to Ruth’s rescue on the beach, appearing on the sea wall like one of the Norse water spirits so beloved of Erik, they had sat up late into the night, talking. Tatjana told Ruth that, in her quest to come to terms with Jacob’s death, she had run the gamut of spirituality.
‘I’ve tried them all – past life regression, seances, Buddhism, Zoroastrianism, I even belonged to some made- up church called The Fellowship of The Fisherman. Rick was very good about it. He wanted us to have our own kids but I couldn’t bear to. I didn’t want a child. I wanted Jacob. If anything happened to Kate, having another child wouldn’t make you forget her, would it?’
‘No,’ said Ruth, touching wood surreptitiously.
‘I wanted to get in touch with my little boy again but, of course, it was impossible. Oh, I had all those so-called mediums saying, “I’ve got a little boy here asking for his mummy.” Complete frauds, the lot of them. Not that I wasn’t taken in for a while, but Rick helped me to see what charlatans they were. They pick up on your grief and they feed off it, like vampires. No, the only thing that helped was finally finding his grave. Erik was right about that, you know. We need to see the burial place. It’s a fundamental human requirement.’
‘So you did find it.’
‘Yes. I met this wonderful woman, Eva Klonowski, who runs the International Commission on Missing Persons. She’s a forensic archaeologist and she’s been in Bosnia since the Nineties. She helped me. They’re using all sorts of new technologies there, you know – satellite imagery and spectral analysis – and they’re still finding bones all the time. We found a grave that looked like it might be in the right place and from the right time. The bodies had been moved several times but Eva helped me get DNA testing done. They don’t fund it, you see, except in special circumstances. The tests proved that it was Jacob and my parents. I buried my parents there, on the hillside, but I had Jacob’s bones cremated and I brought them home with me. Do you think that’s weird?’
‘No.’
‘I’m glad, because those ashes are my greatest comfort. I keep them in a casket on my bedside table at home and I’ve even got some in here.’ She touched the gold locket around her neck. ‘You understand, don’t you?’
Yes, Ruth did understand. She now has an insight into the ferocious world of motherhood. She thought that this was the first time she had spoken to Tatjana, really spoken to her, since the day in the pine forest. She was glad to have her friend back, to have salvaged something from the wreckage of Bosnia. But the next day Tatjana had left to go back to America and Ruth does not know if she will ever see her again.
So, Tatjana is not among the small group gathered in the characterless modern church of St Peter and St Paul. Judy isn’t there either; she is on her honeymoon. A week ago, Ruth attended her wedding, an elaborate affair in a far grander church. Judy had looked beautiful, her round-faced prettiness transformed into something quite spectacular. Her colleagues had formed a guard of honour outside the church and there had been the obligatory jokes about stop-and-search, truncheons and handcuffs.
Ruth didn’t have much chance to talk to Judy. The reception, in a four-star hotel, was packed and she was stuck with Judy’s colleagues from the station. Nelson was there, with Michelle, but he was on a more important table. He looked fed up, fiddling with his tie and glowering at the jokes about the police force. Michelle, of course, looked gorgeous in exactly the right kind of hat.
After the meal there was a disco. Ruth dutifully danced with the policewomen, who had commandeered the dance floor. She even managed an embarrassed shuffle with Clough (Trace having refused to dance). But as ‘YMCA’ segued into Kylie, she escaped, looking for some air and a chance to take off her shoes. After trying several doors, all of which seemed to open onto conference rooms, she eventually found French windows leading to a terrace. She had sunk down with relief onto a stone seat but, to her surprise, she wasn’t alone. Judy was there, looking out over the landscaped grounds, mysterious in the moonlight.
‘Congratulations,’ Ruth had said. She felt slightly awkward. What do you say to the bride, after all? And it felt wrong to see her there, by herself, in her big white dress. A bride is meant to be in company, isn’t that why she has attendants, to ensure that she is never on her own? ‘It’s a lovely wedding. I’m sure you and Darren will be very happy together.’
Judy had laughed, rather oddly. Her eyes were glittering and her headdress was askew. ‘Are you? I’m not.’ And she had gathered up her skirts and gone back to join the conga.
What had Judy meant? Ruth doesn’t like to guess. She has had enough uncertainty to last her a lifetime. If Judy, marrying her childhood sweetheart, isn’t happy, what hope is there for the rest of them?
Certainly Clara isn’t happy. Ruth catches a glimpse of her at the back of the church, pale and pretty in a grey shift dress. Ruth invited Clara to the christening because she seems genuinely fond of Kate. Also, Ruth feels rather bad about having suspected her, even briefly, of the murders. She now sees that Clara is just a rather directionless young woman, a child almost, still mourning her first real love. But she has, at least, been on a few archaeological digs and is, apparently, considering going back to university to study forensic archaeology. Ruth hopes that Clara’s subsequent career will be less eventful than her own.
Irene Hastings is dead. She died just as Craig attempted another murder to protect the family name and Nelson fought for his life in the water. Nelson still feels slightly uneasy about the expression that he saw on Stella Hastings’ face that afternoon. She had known that her mother-in-law was not going to survive. Had she hastened her death? How much did Irene really know about the murders? She had visited Archie Whitcliffe and Hugh Anselm. She had been close to all the members of the Home Guard, including Craig’s grandfather who, apparently, was ‘devoted’ to her. She had known enough, certainly, to plant hardy annuals in a German officer’s helmet. Could Irene have colluded with Craig? Who did the gardening scissors really belong to? And who had warned Craig that Hugh Anselm’s troublesome conscience was stirring once more?
But Nelson keeps these doubts to himself. The case is closed and Whitcliffe is satisfied. Craig will be charged with the murders of Archibald Whitcliffe, Hugh Patrick Anselm and Dieter Eckhart. He has made a full confession.
Archie was given a proper military funeral, conducted by Father Tom, and is buried in the graveyard at Broughton. There may still be an enquiry into the deaths of the six German soldiers. Hugh’s film, so carefully preserved all those years, has been sent to the CPS but there is a feeling that, as all the people concerned are now dead, there is little point in pursuing the case. The German families seem remarkably lacking in desire for vengeance; all they want are their loved ones’ bodies back. As Erik knew, there is a powerful comfort in having a grave to visit. Ruth sent the rosary to the family of Manfred Hahn, in whose hand it had been found. Manfred was, presumably, the man who had cried out to God before he was shot, a prayer heard by the young Hugh Anselm. Manfred Hahn’s granddaughter sent Ruth a nice letter saying that they would treasure the rosary forever. Ruth hopes that Hugh would approve of this
