Midnight is a Lonely Place

‘What is it?’ Alison appeared behind her in the doorway.

Kate took a deep breath. ‘Nothing. I spilt something, that’s all.’

‘Where are the matches?’ Alison bent and rummaged in the cupboard under the sink. She had taken off her jacket and brushed back her hair with her fingers.

‘There, on the dresser.’ Kate was still staring at the trail of wet earth amongst the mugs. ‘Allie, don’t bother to light it now, OK? When we’ve had our coffee, I’ll walk back with you. I need to drive into Colchester this morning.’ Again the thought had come unprompted. Perhaps this time it was because suddenly she didn’t want to be alone in the house.

‘What about the photos? You promised.’

Damn the photos!

‘That’s OK, I’ll do them later, don’t worry. In fact the later I leave it, the better the light will be. We’ll get more definition. I’ll still have the film for you by this evening.’

She lifted two mugs out of the earth and rinsed them under the tap before reaching for the coffee jar.

‘What’s all this mess on the side here?’ Alison had seen it. Staring down at it critically she ran a finger through it, leaving a clean trail on the varnished wood of the worktop.

Kate shook her head. ‘I’m not sure. It must have come in when I brought the logs in earlier.’

The answer seemed to satisfy Alison. Turning away she returned to the living room.

‘Do you like using a computer?’ Her voice came through the door as Kate waited for the kettle to boil.

‘Yes, quite. It makes correlating notes and chronologies and things much simpler.’ Kate carried the mugs of coffee through. Alison was standing at her table looking down at her books and notes.

‘My brother Patrick is a computer wizard,’ the girl said. ‘Most of the time, he’s a nerd, but he is tops on computers.’

‘Will he be there tonight?’

‘Yeah.’

‘And will Greg?’

Alison shrugged. ‘No one ever knows what Greg is going to do.’

‘I see,’ Kate said dryly. ‘Well, I’m looking forward to coming to dinner with your parents. They seem so nice.’

‘They are, I suppose.’ Alison finished her coffee and put the mug down. ‘I’m going. Do you want to come with me?’

The challenge in her eyes was hostile again and suddenly Kate was tired of the child. ‘I’ll be ready in about half an hour,’ she said. ‘If you want to wait for me, that’ll be nice, if not, I’ll follow you over later.’

For a moment Alison hesitated, obviously reluctant to walk back alone, then with an exaggerated sigh she flung herself down in one of the chairs. ‘OK. I’ll wait.’

‘Thanks.’ Kate smiled. She gathered up the mugs and left the girl sitting there.

The door to the spare room was open and the boxes and cases in there had been strewn all over the floor. Kate stared at the scene for a moment in dismay, then she turned and called down the stairs. ‘Alison, did you do this?’

‘What?’ The girl’s voice was puzzled.

‘Do all this? For God’s sake!’ Her case, the case with the torc was still locked, she could see that from the doorway.

Alison ran up behind her and looked round. ‘What a mess.’

‘All these boxes and things. I left them tidy.’

‘Oh.’ Alison avoided her eye. ‘Well, it wasn’t me. How could it have been? I haven’t been upstairs at all.’

Kate found her heart was hammering rather too loudly in her chest. There had to be an explanation. This child or her brother must have done it. Perhaps while she was on the beach Greg or the unknown computer wizard had sneaked in and messed up the place. Turning, she flung open her bedroom door. Nothing in there appeared to have been touched. Everything was as she had left it.

Seeing her white face Alison frowned. She too suspected that it must have been Greg. Last time she had seen him, he had still been planning to try to scare Kate out of the cottage. He was keen on her idea of making Kate think it was haunted. Could he have done all this? Had he already taken things this far? Staring round she felt herself shiver. If it was him, then it was working. She narrowed her eyes for a moment. Was it Greg down on the beach as well? Was he behind what had happened yesterday?

Suddenly she was furious. She turned and running down the stairs she opened the front door. ‘Come on. I need to get home,’ she called. ‘There’s nothing wrong. Let’s go.’

If it was Greg she would get even, if it was the last thing she ever did. The bastard! The unmitigated, double dealing, swindling bastard! He had really scared her. And he owed her a new radio cassette player.

XIX

‘You shouldn’t have come.’ Nion took her hands. ‘You take too many risks. What if you were seen?’

She broke free and ran a few steps in front of him to the edge of the water, skipping like a child. ‘Who is there to see? He’s out all day. The slaves are too busy to care. The child and his nurse think I am visiting my sister.’ She pirouetted, laughing. ‘I’ve never been so happy. I can’t believe this is happening. Me, a staid Roman matron, and you -’ she stood in front of him, staring into his face and rested her hands for a moment on the folds of his cloak, ‘- you, a prince of the Trinovantes.’

Nion laughed, throwing back his head, his strong teeth white in his tanned face, the laugh lines at eyes and mouth carving deep into the square features.

Around them the dunes stretched for miles; sand, spun and blown by the wind into hollows and ridges, the shingle thick and clean as the tide drew back. Nearby, her mule waited patiently beside the horse, which stood between the shafts of his chariot, grazing listlessly on the salt sand flowers and grasses. They were alone. Quite alone. He caught her against him, burying his face in her hair.

‘I want you to come away with me. One of my brothers is in the west. We could go to him there. Your husband would never find you.’

She tensed, raising her face slowly to his and he read the conflicting emotions in her eyes. Desire. Hope. Excitement. All three blazed in their sea-grey depths, but there was doubt there too. Doubt and fear. ‘I can’t leave the boy.’

‘Then we’ll take him with us.’

‘No.’ She shook her head sadly. ‘No. He would never allow his son to go. Me -’ she hesitated. ‘I don’t know if he would come after me, but he would search the whole earth for his son.’ Her eyes brimmed with tears. ‘And I could not ask you to leave this – your home.’ His land, his woods, his pastures, his fields, his water, the salt pans which made him rich, all worked by the men of his people.

She shivered as she looked up again and raised her lips towards his. His gods were powerful, cruel, demanding. Sometimes she wondered if they had given their blessing to their servant’s union with a daughter of Rome, or if they were jealous, biding their time, waiting to punish her for her presumption.

Behind them the sun glittered on the sea, turning it the colour of jade. As his hands moved down to release her girdle she forgot her fear; she forgot everything, drowning in the pleasure of his touch.

‘We’ll have to give you a season ticket at this rate!’ The man in the ticket office at the museum greeted Kate with a cheery smile.

She smiled back. ‘I think you might. Or a job!’ She was still wondering why she was here. Was it the thought of the next book, bubbling uncontrollably in her subconscious, or was it just the fascination of that strange, half- excavated pit on the beach beside her cottage? She refused to admit that she felt a slight reluctance to stay in the cottage alone. She could not allow that. But perhaps it was a little of all three. She was feeling guilty. She shouldn’t be here. She should be working with George Byron and his irritating, hysterical mother.

Retracing her steps upstairs she went to stand once more in front of the statue of Marcus Severus, gazing into