He didn't know how to answer that.
'We thought you lot were never coming back,' Witch said when the car pulled up in the dusty High Street. He tried to hide his concern behind an irritated facade.
'How long have we been gone?' Church helped Ruth out, wondering how he was going to break the news to the others, in particular to Veitch.
'Three days.' Veitch couldn't contain himself any longer. He stepped up so he could look Ruth in the eye and said tenderly, 'How are you?'
She forced a smile. 'Pregnant.' Veitch looked shocked, then worried, and that made her laugh. They retired to The Green Man where Church, Tom and Max had a steadying drink and Ruth attempted to put a brave face on the end of her life.
Witch's face never flickered when they told him what they had learned, but Church knew he would never forget the look buried deep in the Londoner's eyes; it was the mark of someone who had discovered there wasn't a God. Veitch took a drink, put his arm round Ruth, cracked a joke and said they'd find a solution-they always did; all the right noises. But that deep look never went away. Church wondered how Veitch would cope the closer it got to Lughnasadh; and what his response would be if that terrible decision had to be taken.
The mood remained sombre while they caught up over drinks. Shavi's account of what had taken place in the village left the returnees horrified. Max looked dazed, then queasy. 'I've known Sir Richard since I've been here. All those others too. I can't say I ever really got on with them, but I thought we were all coming from the same place. And I'm supposed to be a trained observer and a good judge of character.' Despite the shock, his spirits soon raised as they always seemed to, and it wasn't long before he was feverishly scribbling everything down in his notebook.
Their attention turned to Witch's success in uncovering the deception. His ears coloured when Church congratulated him effusively; he looked genuinely touched by the praise.
'And I always thought he'd been clouted with the stupid stick,' Laura said. 'Looks like I'll have to find some other insults. Good job there's a long list.' She was getting braver once more; and Veitch, for his part, seemed to take her words in good humour.
'But you haven't told us what happened to Sir Richard,' Church said. 'You couldn't really take him to the cops, could you?'
Shavi and Laura watched Veitch intently. 'I convinced the bastard to leave town,' Veitch replied coldly.
Finally it was time to go. Max offered them his car, an act of generosity that brought a warm hug from Ruth and a back-slap from Veitch, but Church knew the police would be watching for it. After a heated discussion they decided to make their way on foot across the deserted countryside far away from the roads, cities and towns, despite the dangers that might lie away from the centres of population; it would give them a better chance of evading the Fomorii while they decided what to do next.
It was midafternoon and still unbearably hot when they left the cool confines of the pub. There was still plenty of the day left to put them deep into the heart of the wild upland country. They shook Max's hand, waved to Geordie, who grunted gruffly, and then they wound their way wearily towards the horizon.
Max stood with Geordie in the middle of the street until they had disappeared from view. 'Bloody rum bunch,' Geordie muttered.
'No, mate, heroes,' Max said. 'They might not know it, but they are. They just need writing up. Some of the rough edges taken off them so people can see the wood for the trees.'
Geordie grunted dismissively. 'Not my kind of heroes.'
'You're not seeing it right, Geordie. We're at war now. Under siege. In times like this the people need someone to look up to, someone who'll give them courage to keep fighting.' He smiled tightly. 'I reckon that lot fit the bill-if their story is told in the right way. And I'm just the man to tell it.'
As they passed the outskirts of the village, Laura glanced up at the scarecrow which had unnerved her so much on her way in. She was surprised to see it looked different, although she at first wondered if it was a trick of the glaring sun. Squinting, she tried to pick out what had changed; gradually details emerged. It was no longer just a scarecrow. Something had been tied to it. She squinted again. Another scarecrow appeared to be hanging at the front of the original in the same crucified position, only the bottom two thirds of it was missing. And the head of the second one didn't look very good either.
But something was still jarring. Curious, she took a few steps forward so the sun was away from it. And then, in a moment of pure horror, she realised what it was. It wore a white shirt splattered with something dark near the collar. Instead of straw, something gleamed in the sun; bone that had been picked clean by the creatures in the fields.
Unable to mask her queasy thoughts, she snapped round at Veitch, suddenly aware of the dark, hidden depths of his character. She knew from his body language he realised she was watching him, but he never turned to meet her gaze. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, his expression cold and aloof.
Chapter Fourteen
The clear blue sky was so near they felt like they were in heaven, the air so clean and fresh it burned their throats, which were more used to the particles and fumes of city living. There, high up on the dinosaur-backed ridge of the Pennines, they felt like they had been sucked into the thunderous heart of nature, or into the past where no chimney belched, no meaningless machine disturbed the stillness. Amidst outcropping rock turned bronze by the unflinching sun they picked their way through swaying seas of fern, down sheep-clipped grassy slopes, across bleak upland moors where the wind cut like talons.
Tom navigated by the sun and the stars, leading them on into the remotest parts of the land where the sodium glare had never touched. At night the vast spray of stars looked like a milky river leading them back to the source. They made their camps in hidden corners, dips below the eyeline, behind boulders and in low-hanging caves; all except Ruth took turns keeping watch over the dying campfires.
At times they saw things moving away in the dark or heard sounds that had little to do with any animals they knew; one night Shavi had a conversation with someone unseen whose voice switched between the mewling tones of an infant and the phlegmy crackle of an old man. When the sun began to rise, Shavi heard the mysterious stranger scurry away on many legs, an insectile chittering bouncing among the rocks.
Their decision to steer clear of any centre of population meant finding food was a constant problem, though they were thankful that Tom had an encyclopaedic knowledge of the roots, plants and herbs which grew in secret places where no one would have thought to look. He taught Veitch his many skills at catching rabbits and the occasional game bird, and how to snatch fish from the sparkling streams and rivers they crossed. When cooked on the campfire, the fare was mouth-watering; even so, they soon yearned for a richer and more varied diet.
'This feels like Lord of the Flies,' Shavi remarked one calm morning as he watched Veitch carve a spear with his knife; he refused to use his crossbow for hunting.
'Let's hope it doesn't end the same way,' Church replied; he attempted to take the edge off his words with a smile.
'Say, why don't you focus on the black side?' Ruth chipped in with cheerful sarcasm. After the initial shock she had put them all to shame with her bright mood, refusing to be bowed by what had been inflicted on her. Church kept waiting for her to crack as the black despair he was sure lurked within came rushing to the surface, but it never did, and as time passed he came to think it wasn't there at all.
'Look around,' she continued. 'This is the best there is in life. Stars you can see, food and water you can taste, air you can breathe. I've never felt as much at peace. You know, despite everything. Back in London, with work and all that, life had a constant background buzz, like some irritating noise that you force yourself to get used to because it's always around. Now…' She held out her arms. 'Nothing. It's not there.'
'It always takes a disaster to show you what you're missing in life.' Laura's voice dripped with irony, but they all knew she was speaking the truth.
Ruth's health continued to be up and down: morning sickness as if she had a normal pregnancy, which
