There’s only one café in the village. It’s rather bizarrely designed to look like an American diner, with bench seats and a lot of chrome and neon, but it’s still open at five o’clock, which makes it a mecca for Ruth and Zoe. They sit opposite each other in a booth and drink strangely frothy cappuccino.
‘It’s not horrible,’ says Zoe, ‘but it doesn’t taste like coffee.’
‘It is slightly horrible,’ says Ruth.
‘Cappuccino is two points in Lean Zone,’ says Zoe.
‘Do you have to write down drinks too?’ asks Ruth.
‘You have to write down everything,’ says Zoe. ‘Didn’t Jacquie do her thing about “if you drink it, ink it”?’
‘I think I stopped listening after a while,’ says Ruth.
‘She does the same spiel every week,’ says Zoe, ‘but she’s not a bad consultant. I’ve had a few that were terrible. And some of the other women are nice.’
‘Are they always all women?’
‘Not always. In my last group there was a man who used to come. Most people ignored him though. Poor chap.’
‘Why do you keep coming?’ asks Ruth, before she can help herself. ‘I mean, you look terrific.’
‘Thank you,’ says Zoe. ‘But it’s how you feel inside, isn’t it? I’ve been fat and I’ve been thin and there’s no doubt in my mind that people are nicer to you when you’re thin.’
Is this true? Ruth has always felt that she was too big, in the eyes of society anyway. Would people have treated her differently if she’d been as slim as, say, Shona, her glamorous friend and fellow lecturer? Ruth remembers how Kelly had talked of Alison’s weight loss, almost with awe.
‘That’s depressing, if so,’ she says.
‘Isn’t it?’ says Zoe cheerfully. ‘Anyway, I’d like to be thinner.’
‘So would I,’ says Ruth, ‘but I’ve never wanted it enough to stop eating.’
‘Why did you decide to come today?’ asks Zoe. She’s spooning out the last of her froth. Ruth has given up on hers.
‘I don’t know,’ says Ruth. ‘I went to a school reunion at the weekend and one of my old schoolfriends had lost lots of weight.’
‘And you thought she looked good?’
‘No,’ says Ruth. ‘Actually, I thought she looked better before.’
They both laugh so loudly that the café owner, who is stacking chairs in a passive-aggressive manner, looks over in alarm.
‘I’ve never been to a school reunion,’ says Zoe. ‘Though I liked it when I was there.’
‘It was rather surreal,’ says Ruth. ‘I met my old sixth-form boyfriend. He’s now a successful businessman with two wives and no hair.’
‘I married my sixth-form boyfriend,’ says Zoe. ‘Sounds like you had a lucky escape.’
‘Did you really?’ says Ruth. She remembers Zoe telling her that she was divorced.
‘Yes. I was mad about him. Patrick was a couple of years older than me and one of the really cool boys at school. Football team and all that. Long blond hair like a pop star. You know the sort of thing. We got married when I was twenty and he was twenty-two. Our parents thought we were mad and we were, really. But we stayed together for ten years. I trained as a nurse and he did his apprenticeship to be an electrician. He’s very successful now too. Not bald but completely white-haired. Still long though, like an aging rock star. We’ve stayed on good terms. I sometimes think, if we’d had children, we’d still be together.’
Ruth doesn’t want to ask why Zoe doesn’t have children. She says, ‘I’ve never been married and I’ve never lived with Kate’s father. He’s married to someone else. It’s complicated. Or perhaps it isn’t.’
She stops, wondering if she’s said too much. She doesn’t usually tell almost-strangers about Kate’s parentage. But somehow Zoe doesn’t seem like a stranger.
‘Kate’s lovely,’ says Zoe. ‘I’m looking forward to getting to know her.’
‘Me too,’ says Ruth. ‘I mean we both are. Looking forward to getting to know you, I mean.’ She realises that she’s rambling, also that it’s five thirty and she needs to leave to collect Kate.
Ruth tries to pay for the coffees but Zoe won’t let her. The café owner seems relieved to see them go.
It’s dark by the time Ruth and Kate get home but, as Ruth approaches the cottages, the security light comes on and she sees a familiar battered Mercedes outside her gate. How long has Nelson had that car? Ever since she’s known him, which is over twelve years now.
‘Dad!’ shouts Kate in delight.
‘So it is,’ says Ruth. Her own emotions are rather more complicated. She hasn’t seen much of Nelson since he was injured last year. In the emotional aftermath of that day, both had revealed rather too much of their true feelings for each other. Now Ruth thinks that Nelson is worried that she expects him to leave Michelle for her. But she doesn’t; she never expects that to happen. Besides, Nelson’s mother visited him for Christmas and was sure to have been preaching the virtues of Christian marriage.
Kate rushes over to the car and is soon dragging Nelson towards the house. Ruth follows more slowly. From the window she can see Flint regarding Nelson with disapproval.
‘I saw the woman next door,’ says Nelson. ‘She said you’d be home soon. I didn’t know you had a new neighbour.’
‘She only moved in on Sunday. Why didn’t you ring to say you were coming?’
‘I tried to,’ says Nelson, ‘but your phone was switched off. At the university they said you’d left early.’
Guiltily, Ruth realises that she switched her phone off during Jacquie’s homily. And she did not leave work early. She arrived at eight and left at four. She wonders who said she did? Her PA, Prisha, is far too discreet.
‘I was at a Lean Zone meeting,’ she says. Why be embarrassed about it, she tells herself.
‘A what?’
‘A meeting about losing weight.’
Nelson looks positively appalled. ‘Why would you want to lose weight?’
Ruth has no answer to this. She lets Nelson into the house and makes tea while Kate describes the Year 6 trip in exhaustive detail.
‘Where is this activity centre?’ asks Nelson. ‘Have the school done health and safety checks?’
‘I’m sure they have,’ says Ruth. It’s a good thing that Nelson is so annoying sometimes. It stops her fantasising about them living together.
‘What about coronavirus?’ Nelson asks Kate. ‘Have the school been telling you about hand sanitiser?’
‘I never thought I’d hear you talking about hand sanitiser,’ says Ruth.
‘Yes,’ says Kate. ‘They tell us to sing “God Save the Queen” while we’re washing our hands.’
‘What if you’re a republican?’ asks Ruth.
‘I don’t suppose many eleven-year-olds are republicans,’ says Nelson.
‘That’s what’s wrong with this country,’ says Ruth, only half joking.
Kate decides that Nelson needs to see every piece of artwork she has produced in school this term and goes to collect them. Ruth takes advantage of her absence to ask Nelson why he has been ringing her at work. And why he’s driven all the way out to the Saltmarsh to see her.
‘I wanted to know about the body in Tombland,’ says Nelson. ‘Dead bodies are my business, after all.’
‘This one has been dead a long time. I think it’s medieval. I’ve sent samples for carbon-14 testing.’
‘Was it a plague victim?’
‘That’s what everyone asks. It’s possible but it may just be a body that was buried at St George’s. The graveyard probably stretched all the way to the roundabout.’
‘How was your weekend in London?’
‘OK,’ says Ruth. ‘I went to a school reunion. I saw my ex-boyfriend. He’s completely bald.’
Nelson laughs but Ruth notices that, unconsciously, he raises a hand to his hair which, while greying, is still thick. Kate reappears and Nelson settles down to admire paintings, pottery owls and pieces of slightly grubby cross-stitch.
‘Do you want to stay for supper?’ asks Ruth. ‘It’s just pasta. Or something.’
‘Thanks, but I’d better get back for Bruno. The dog-walker brings him home at six. Michelle’s away.’
In that case, thinks Ruth, there’s nothing to stop Nelson coming back later. He could even bring Bruno with him (sorry, Flint). She wonders if Nelson is thinking the same thing. But neither of them says anything and, after admiring Kate’s art extravagantly, Nelson gets up to leave.
Cathbad has also cooked pasta although, in his case, it comes adorned with courgette spirals and broccoli florets. The children eat quickly, they are used to their father’s culinary prowess, but Judy savours each mouthful. She finds cooking very tedious and she knows that preparing meals every day would soon drive her to distraction. But Cathbad actually seems to enjoy it. Thing is leaning against Judy’s legs, looking up at her lovingly, although he’s not much of a broccoli fan. It’s dark outside but there are signs that spring is returning; a bunch of daffodils on the table, a school newsletter trumpeting about Easter bonnet competitions.
When Michael and Miranda have drifted away, Cathbad pours Judy a glass of wine and asks about her day.
‘It was OK. I had to tell the boss that I thought his potential murder was probably still a suicide. And Ruth excavated a skeleton in Tombland.’
‘Really? A medieval skeleton?’
‘I think so. I just saw the report. I’m pretty sure Nelson will follow it up.’
‘I’m certain he will,’ says Cathbad.
There’s a short silence while they both think about Nelson and the reasons why he will be interested in this particular archaeological discovery.
‘It’s a very haunted place, Tombland,’ says Cathbad. ‘Very spiritual but also very troubled.’
‘I know about the Grey Lady,’ says Judy. ‘And the ghost that haunts the Maid’s Head. Is that grey too? The Grey Maid?’
‘I had a friend who worked at the Maid’s Head,’ says Cathbad. ‘And he says the Maid is a friendly presence. There’s a former mayor who’s more troublesome. The Grey Lady is a sad spirit though. I saw her once.’
Judy isn’t surprised by this sort of thing any more.
‘When was that?’
‘It was when I was first in Norfolk. I took a shortcut through Tombland Alley on my way back from the pub. It was autumn and there were leaves on the ground. A woman in a long, grey dress was walking in front of me. I assumed she was in fancy dress – it was near Hallowe’en – but then she turned and seemed to go through a door. When I got to the place, there was no door there, just a brick wall. Then I realised that her long skirt hadn’t made any noise as she walked through the fallen leaves.’
The detail in this story makes it unexpectedly chilling: the pub, the leaves, the door that wasn’t there. Judy says, ‘Maybe there was another door that you didn’t see.’
‘Maybe,’ says Cathbad equably. ‘But there isn’t always a rational explanation, you know.’
Judy secretly disagrees. ‘Didn’t the Grey Lady live in a house that was boarded up because of the plague?’ she says. ‘That’s a horrible story. Thank God things like that don’t happen any more.’
But Cathbad doesn’t answer this. He changes the subject and starts to talk about Thing. After a few minutes’ dog chat, they clear the table and go to join the children.
Nelson can hear Bruno barking as soon as he turns into the cul-de-sac. The wretched animal has been on his own for barely more than an hour. He hopes the neighbours won’t start to complain.
Bruno gives him a hero’s welcome, whining ecstatically and running upstairs to find a suitable gift. He comes back with one of Michelle’s bras. Nelson thanks him and extracts the garment, which he hangs on the banister. Then he goes in search of food.
Michelle went to Blackpool two days after George’s fourth birthday on February the fifteenth. She left Nelson with enough ready meals to last two weeks. As he extracts a chilli con carne from the freezer, he thinks of Samantha Wilson putting her Weight Watchers’ meal in the microwave. What was she thinking when she pierced the plastic wrapping? ‘Ensure food is piping hot before eating.’ Piping hot. A curiously old-fashioned phrase, like something Nelson’s mother might say. Why didn’t Samantha eat her hot food? Why did she go upstairs, lie down on her bed and take an overdose of sleeping pills?
Nelson thinks of Ruth inviting him to supper. ‘Pasta. Or something.’ He doesn’t get the impression that Ruth is much of a cook. Has he ever eaten a meal prepared by her? He doesn’t think so. What would he have done if Ruth had invited him, not just to eat, but to stay the night? There’s nothing stopping him. Except Bruno, who is still looking at him expectantly. Nelson lets the dog out into the garden, which will satisfy him for a few minutes. He could have taken Bruno to Ruth’s. That grumpy cat would get used to him eventually. But it still doesn’t seem right. Not until he has had that conversation. Is it the thought of the complications ahead that is making him feel uneasy tonight? No, he thinks it’s something else. Something connected to his conversation with Ruth. Nelson broods, watching the container revolving under the electronic spotlight.
It’s a few minutes before he realises that his phone is buzzing. Michelle.
‘Hallo, love,’ says Nelson. ‘Is everything OK?’
‘Why do you always think something’s wrong? We’re all fine. We took George for a donkey ride on the sands today.’
Katie had loved the donkeys in Blackpool, thinks Nelson. But, of course, he can’t say this.
Michelle talks about George for a while and then says, ‘Harry? Are you worried about coronavirus?’
‘Not really,’ says Nelson, wondering if this is true. ‘It’s just the flu, after all.’
‘I’m a bit worried about Mum.’
‘Why?’ Michelle’s mum is young and active in her early seventies. She’s the perfect grandmother. And mother-in-law. Nelson’s mother, Maureen, seems like she comes from a different generation.
‘She’s diabetic,’ says Michelle. ‘Remember?’
Nelson had forgotten.
‘They say people with diabetes might be at risk. And people over seventy.’
‘Try not to worry, love. I’m sure she’ll be fine.’
Michelle sounds comforted though she must know that Nelson doesn’t know the first thing about this mysterious virus. She puts George on the phone to say goodnight. He wants to talk to Bruno but the dog is still in the garden, so Nelson has to improvise whining and panting sounds. He thinks that George is convinced.
After supper, Ruth sits down with her Lean Journal.
‘Tuesday 25th February,’ she writes. ‘Breakfast: two slices toast and marmite. Cup tea. 11am: Cappuccino. Blueberry muffin. Lunch: Hummus and roasted vegetable wrap. Apple. Supper . . .’
She sighs and thinks of Kelly saying Alison must have lost five stone. Of Zoe saying, ‘It’s how you feel inside.’ Of Nelson’s face when he asked, ‘Why would you want to lose weight?’
And she tears the page into tiny pieces. Then she puts the journal in the bin.