THE HOUSE AT SEA’S END (31 page)

‘I don’t think I can say.’

Phil changes tack. ‘What about Eckhart’s death? There are a lot of rumours floating around.’

‘The police are investigating.’

‘Do they think it was murder?’

‘I can’t say.’

‘They do then.’

Ruth says nothing, and after loitering maddeningly for a few minutes Phil drifts away.

Monday is a busy teaching day for Ruth. She has another tutorial at two. She has a quick sandwich in the canteen and escapes to her office to prepare, treading warily as she passes Phil’s open door. She doesn’t want to get trapped into giving anything else away.

She is just finishing her sandwich and reading about bone disease in preparation for her students, when the phone rings. It’s Craig. He and Ted have found a boat on the beach just beyond Broughton. It looks old. Could it be one of the fire ships she was mentioning? Does she want to come and have a look?

Ruth does want to, very much. She longs to escape from the university and do some real archaeology, examine a piece of evidence, feel the sun and wind on her face. But even if she leaves straight after her tutorial she still won’t be back
in time to pick up Kate at five. Sandra probably wouldn’t mind keeping her an hour longer, or maybe Tatjana would go and pick her up? Tatjana’s conference has finished and she was just saying that morning that she hadn’t anything to do today. She leaves tomorrow, her bags are packed and she’s done all the touristy things in King’s Lynn and Norwich. Ruth has avoided asking Tatjana to have anything to do with Kate but surely she won’t mind this one little favour. After all, Ruth has had her to stay for nearly three weeks.

She rings Tatjana on her mobile. She hadn’t expected it to be difficult, had even expected Tatjana to interrupt and offer to get Kate, but Tatjana hears her out in silence. Ruth stammers and repeats herself. She remembers how much she hates asking for favours. When she has talked herself to a standstill, Tatjana says, ‘Let me get this straight. You want me to pick up your daughter?’

Ruth does not like the way she says ‘your daughter’.

‘Yes,’ she mutters.

‘Just because you can’t be bothered?’

‘No! It’s not that. It’s just that Craig has found something which might be interesting …’

‘Interesting but not vital. There’s no necessity for you to go today is there?’

‘No but …’

‘You expect us all to run round after you, don’t you?’ Tatjana is laughing but her voice does not sound amused. ‘Shona, me, Judy. We all have to look after your baby because you’re too busy swanning around with Detective Inspector Nelson, pretending to solve crimes. That’s not your job, Ruth. Your job is being a mother.’

‘My job is being an archaeologist.’

‘Yes, right.’ Tatjana laughs again. ‘How is that going, Ruth? How many papers have you written? Where’s that book you were always going to write? It didn’t happen, did it?’

‘I’ve been—’

‘Busy? Yes, busy having a baby without a father.’

Ruth is speechless. This is the sort of thing her mother says. Not Tatjana, who is meant to be her friend.

‘I’m sorry you feel like this,’ she says at last.

‘Yes.’ Suddenly Tatjana sounds very tired. ‘I’m sorry too. Sorry for all of us. Especially Kate.’ And she rings off.

Ruth is shaking. She looks at her phone as if it holds the key to Tatjana’s outburst. She had known that Tatjana disapproved of her asking Clara to babysit, she had known and she had understood. Who knows better than she how Tatjana feels about putting career before children? Why had she ever thought that Tatjana would be on her side? Tatjana despises her for leaving her daughter in other people’s care while she ‘swans around’ with Nelson. But she had never expected so much vitriol, so much …
hatred
was the only word. There was such a depth of contempt in Tatjana’s voice that Ruth feels as if she has been physically attacked. And she feels humiliated too. She had thought she was doing quite well, trying to do the famous juggling thing, trying to be a good mother and keep her job, trying not to rely on other people. But it turns out that Tatjana thinks she
is
relying on other people. Is that what everyone thinks about her? Shona, Judy, Cathbad, Phil? Look at Ruth pretending to be a policeman. She can’t even be bothered to look after her own baby, just dumps
the poor thing with a childminder. She’s not fit to have a child.

And maybe it’s true. Hadn’t she summoned Shona to take charge of Kate while they were excavating the bodies on the beach? This, despite the fact that Shona obviously couldn’t cope and had let Kate scream herself almost sick. And even though Shona was clueless about babies, hadn’t Ruth left Kate with her again so she could go to a hen night, of all frivolous things? What sort of mother was Ruth, anyway, drinking in wine bars and clubs, coming home past midnight? And she’d left Kate with Clara, someone she barely knew, just so that she could hang around on the edge of Nelson’s investigations, lapping up vicarious glory. Seconded to the Serious Crimes Unit indeed! Who is she trying to kid? It was all Ruth’s fault that Clara had been snowed in with Kate, that Judy had to risk her life driving over the snow-covered marshes. No wonder Judy’s hardly spoken to her since. And now she’d done it again. She has obviously deeply insulted Tatjana. And why? Just so that she can go and dig up an old boat, probably just some fishing boat that ran aground in a storm.

By the time her students arrive, standing self-consciously in the open doorway, shuffling their papers, Ruth has decided to go straight home after the tutorial. She’ll stop all this ridiculous detective business. It’s no business of hers whether the wreck is that of a fire ship, part of Operation Lucifer. It’s no business of hers who murdered Archie Whitcliffe, Hugh Anselm or Dieter Eckhart. Her job, as Tatjana pointed out, is being a mother. She’d better get on with it.

It’s not one of her best tutorials. Luckily, the students do most of the work themselves, one of them reading a paper, the others discussing it. They are all mature students from China and America and they are scrupulously polite to each other. All Ruth has to do is to steer the conversation in certain directions and to correct some misconceptions about Neanderthal Man. Then they are backing out of her room, the Chinese students literally bowing.

Ruth’s phone rings. It’s Nelson.

‘Ruth, I’m off to Sea’s End House. There’s a few more questions I need to ask. What are you doing?’

‘Well, Craig, one of the field team, rang to say that they’d found a boat on the beach just beyond Broughton. They think it might be a fire ship. You know, part of the coastal defence.’

‘Are you going down to have a look at it?’

‘I might do.’

‘I’ll see you there, if so. And Ruth?’

‘What?’

‘Be careful.’

Ruth turns off the phone but, almost immediately, switches it back on to call Sandra. She’ll just have a quick look at the boat. She’ll be home by six at the latest.

Nelson had asked if he could speak to Irene on her own, but when he reaches Sea’s End House he is told by Stella that her mother-in-law is unwell and can’t be disturbed.

‘What is it?’ Nelson does not return Stella’s smile.

‘The doctor thinks it may be a small stroke.’

‘Jesus.’ Nelson is taken aback. A stroke is serious. Why aren’t they running about calling ambulances?

‘At Mother’s age these things are almost inevitable,’ says Stella, leading the way into the sitting room. ‘There’s no point her going into hospital. She might as well stay here, peacefully, in her own bed.’

There is an air of resignation about her which Nelson finds disturbing. In her own bed. People talk about dying ‘in their own bed’. He’s not going to do that. He’s going to die in a speeding car or saving some child from drowning. Peace is overrated, in his opinion.

‘How old is Irene?’

‘Ninety-three.’ Again, that calm smile.

It seems odd not to have Irene fussing about with the tea. There’s no sign of Jack or Clara either. But that suits Nelson. Stella has always struck him as the sanest one of the family.

‘Jack and Clara have taken the dogs for a long walk,’ explains Stella. ‘Jack needed to get out of the house. He’s been so worried about Irene. And Clara could do with a break too. She’s had a bad time of it recently.’

‘Was she very upset about Dieter Eckhart’s death?’

‘Very. I think she really cared about him.’

‘Was she in love with him?’

Stella looks slightly reproving. ‘They’d only known each other for a few weeks.’

But it happens, Nelson wants to tell her. Didn’t he fall in love with Michelle as soon as he saw her, that day in the Blackpool Rock Shop?

‘Mrs Hastings,’ says Nelson. On Saturday night they had been on first name terms but that seems a long time ago. ‘How much do you know about the war years at Sea’s End House?’

‘Quite a lot,’ says Stella placidly. ‘More than Jack, I daresay. Irene talked to me a lot. Buster too. I was very interested.’

‘Did you know that Irene used to visit Archie Whitcliffe?’

‘Yes. She was fond of him. Buster had been almost like a father to him.’

It seems odd to think of the elderly man with the regimental tie having a father, surrogate or otherwise. Nelson remembers what Archie said about Buster Hastings.
Hell of a chap. A real old devil. One of the old school.
Not the most loving of descriptions.

‘What about Hugh Anselm? Did she visit him?’

‘She went once, a few years ago. She wasn’t so close to Hugh. I don’t think Buster liked him much, he always referred to him as that damned commie.’ She laughs softly.

‘Did you ever meet Hugh?’

‘Yes. I drove Irene over to see him that time.’

‘And Archie?’

‘Once or twice.’

It’s incredible, reflects Nelson. He had thought that Jack was the key to Sea’s End House but all the time it was the quiet woman sitting in front of him. She had known all Irene’s wartime stories, she remembers Buster, she had taken Irene to visit both Archie and Hugh.

‘Mrs Hastings, did Buster ever talk about Daniel West?’

‘Daniel West? No, I don’t think so. Who is he?’

‘He was a young boy in Buster Hastings’ platoon. He killed himself in 1940.’

‘Killed himself? How horrible.’

‘He killed himself to escape the memory of a war crime committed by Buster Hastings and his men.’

‘What do you mean, war crime?’

‘Has your husband told you about the film we were watching that day at your house? The day when it snowed?’

‘Only that it was some nonsense produced by Hugh.’

‘In the film Hugh Anselm accuses Captain Hastings and his sergeant of killing six defenceless German soldiers. The six bodies we found at Broughton Sea’s End.’

‘That’s not true!’

‘Your husband believed it.’

‘Jack? He can’t have.’

‘You said yourself that the war was a desperate time. People do desperate things in desperate times.’

She looks at him as if half conceding the point. In the background, a clock ticks.

‘Mrs Hastings,’ says Nelson. ‘Do you know how Hugh Anselm died?’

Stella’s brow furrows. ‘Some sort of accident, wasn’t it?’

‘He was found dead in his stairlift.’

‘How terrible.’

‘We think foul play may have been involved.’

He meant to shock her and he does. Her eyes widen and her hand clenches on the arm of her chair.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean that someone deliberately stopped the stairlift. Someone who knew that Hugh Anselm had a heart condition and that the agitation of trying to free himself would be likely to kill him.’

‘What are you suggesting?’

‘Archie Whitcliffe was suffocated,’ says Nelson brutally. ‘I think the same person killed both men.’

‘Archie? Suffocated? I don’t believe you.’

‘A post mortem examination cannot lie,’ says Nelson, though they can and do.

There is a silence. Out of the French windows, Nelson can see the sea, brightest blue under a paler blue sky. A white-sailed yacht moves slowly across the horizon.

‘Detective Chief Inspector,’ Stella is very pale but her voice is perfectly steady, ‘am I to understand that you suspect someone in this family of these horrible crimes?’

‘I suspect no-one and everyone,’ says Nelson portentously.

‘What does that mean?’

‘Someone killed those men and I think it was to protect the memory of Buster Hastings. Dieter Eckhart too. He was about to uncover the truth. I think someone killed to prevent that happening.’

She stares at him, her hands still clenched on the arms of her chair. An alarm goes off, making them both jump. Stella Hastings looks at her watch.

‘Time to check on Mother. Excuse me, Detective Chief Inspector. I won’t be long.’

And she goes out. Leaving Nelson to look out of the window, across the bay to the lighthouse. In front of him is a row of plants, one of which, he now realises, is planted in a German officer’s helmet.

Ruth is glad that she came. It is a beautiful afternoon, the sea sparkling in the sun. There is no snow left on the beach and it could almost be a summer day, if it were not for the sharp air that makes her catch her breath and wish she’d brought a scarf.

Craig is waiting for her at the foot of the slope. He is warmly dressed in a donkey jacket and black woolly hat.

‘Where’s Ted?’

‘He had to go back. Some domestic crisis. I said I would wait.’

‘That was kind of you.’

As Ruth follows Craig across the beach, she wonders about Ted’s domestic crisis. As far as she knows, he isn’t married or living with anyone. He’s a bit of an enigma, Irish Ted. He once told her that his name wasn’t even Ted.

Sandra had been happy to look after Kate for an hour longer. ‘No problem. Don’t worry so much, Ruth.’ But Ruth does worry. Tatjana’s words have left her feeling bruised and vulnerable. She has tried a couple of times to ring Tatjana back but her phone seems to be switched off. Is Ruth really such a terrible mother? She loves Kate more than her life but maybe this isn’t enough. Certainly the whole maternal thing doesn’t come easily to her, as it does to women like Michelle. Ruth never knows what to say to Sandra or to other mothers – one excruciating morning at a mother and baby group was enough to show her this. She doesn’t know what baby food to buy or which car seat to avoid. She’s never read a parenting magazine or watched
Supernanny
. She and Kate are having to make it up as they go along. And she’d thought she was doing all right, until the conversation with Tatjana.