‘You’re not happy. You’ve never been happy.’
After he’s gone, she ponders these words, wondering if they are true. Has she really never been happy? She thinks she has childhood memories of sunlight and laughter but maybe they aren’t real. Just a delusion. Maybe there is nothing outside these four walls.
‘Take the narrow gate.’
A phrase comes into her mind. ‘Wide is the gate and broad is the way that leads to destruction.’ Where did that come from? She still has the pills, in their comforting blister pack, in her hand. She pops the pod and two of the tablets are in her hands.
She swallows them with what’s left of the water.
Nelson sits in his car staring at his phone. He watches Jeremy Stokes leave Vancouver Hall and stop to sanitise his hands, wringing them together for what seems like hours. Then he takes off his mask, revealing a short, grey beard. He rubs sanitiser over his face too, which seems excessive to Nelson, before walking off in the direction of his car, one of those smug hybrid makes.
Cathbad worse. Think it’s the end.
Can this really be how it ends? Cathbad, the fearless druid, felled by a simple virus? Nelson thinks back to the first time he met Cathbad, then a suspect in a murder investigation.
‘You’re very abrupt. Are you a Scorpio?’
Nelson would cheerfully have killed Cathbad himself at that moment despite (or perhaps because of) him getting the star sign right. Later, he and Cathbad had crossed the marshes in a storm. Cathbad had stepped off the path and would probably have drowned if Nelson hadn’t heaved him back to safety.
‘I am in your debt,’ Cathbad had said. ‘The spirits of the ancestors are strong – they are all around us.’
Come on, ancestors, thinks Nelson, do your bit now. It was partly in repayment of this debt that Cathbad had – in his own words – travelled to the dream world to rescue Nelson. Clearer than the campus around him, Nelson sees the dark water, the steps, the stone boat.
‘Don’t let go,’ he’d said to dream Cathbad.
‘I won’t.’
Since then Cathbad has fallen from a great height and landed on a stall selling Slush Puppies, he has saved his son from a kidnapper and accompanied Nelson to an earthquake zone. Surely, he has a few of his nine lives left?
Nelson can’t face giving Ruth the news. She really loves Cathbad and would be lost without the old nutter. Nelson rubs his eyes, which have become strangely wet. The recently applied sanitiser makes them sting. Through a haze of tears, he drives back to the station.
Judy is moving in slow motion. ‘You can FaceTime me,’ said the nurse, ‘and we’ll hold the phone close to his head.’
Judy is dimly aware of the man’s kindness even as she gathers her children together to speak to their father via iPad. They sit in a row on the sofa and Judy dials the number given to her by the nurse, whose name is Abbas. Her hands are shaking too much, so Maddie takes the tablet from her. After a few deft clicks, the screen shows a figure in scrubs, face hidden by a visor.
‘I’m Abbas. I’m going to hold the phone next to Michael. Don’t be distressed at his appearance. The tubes are to help him breathe.’
‘Michael?’ thinks Judy. But Michael is here next to her. She can feel him sobbing quietly, unlike Miranda on the other side who is almost howling. Then she remembers; Cathbad’s baptismal name of Michael Malone must be on his medical records.
‘Cathbad,’ she says, ‘everyone calls him Cathbad.’
‘That’s useful to know,’ says Abbas. ‘We’ll call him Cathbad from now on. We won’t leave him alone, I promise. There’ll always be someone with him.’ Judy can’t see Abbas’s face because of the mask and visor but his voice is calm and comforting. Judy wonders how many hours he’s worked that day and how many deathbeds he has attended.
Then the screen shows a man with a mask covering most of his face, tubes snaking out from his mouth and nose. His long grey hair is spread out on the pillow.
‘Cathbad,’ says Judy. ‘It’s me, Judy. I’m here with Maddie, Michael and Miranda.’
‘Hallo, Dad,’ says Maddie.
‘Tell Daddy how much you love him,’ says Judy to her children. She has one thought in her head: the children must not look back on this moment with regret. With sadness, yes, but they must not regret what hasn’t been said. They need to tell Cathbad that they love him. But Michael and Miranda are crying too much now to make any sense. It’s up to Maddie to say, in her sweet clear voice, ‘We all love you so much, Dad.’ Maddie, who lost her little sister when she was still a child, is she about to lose her father too?
‘Stay strong, Cathbad,’ says Judy. ‘I’m praying to all the saints and all the spirits. I’ll even become a druid if it helps. Nelson sends his love and Ruth too.’ Universal energy, Cathbad called it. Is it enough?
Do Cathbad’s eyes flicker? Is he remembering travelling to the dream realm with Nelson?
‘Abbas is looking after you,’ says Judy. ‘All the doctors and nurses.’
‘Thing,’ says Michael suddenly. ‘He needs to say goodbye.’
Saying goodbye. Is that what they are doing?
Ruth has the strangest feeling, all afternoon, that someone is watching her. Corbyn is sitting on the fence, watching her out of his bright, dark eyes. Is he a warning or a messenger?
‘Are you from Cathbad?’ she says aloud. Then feels stupid. Corbyn takes flight but, a few minutes later, he’s back, this time on the grass in front of Zoe’s house. Zoe has succeeded in clearing away a lot of weeds but there’s no sign of the cottage garden paradise that she planned. Will she ever come back? Will Ruth ever be able to have that conversation with her?
Ruth and Kate set out for their afternoon walk later than usual. It’s another bright, sunny day but there’s a sharp wind which makes the tall grass sway and whisper. What’s it saying? Cathbad would know.
‘Why do you keep looking back, Mum?’ says Kate.
‘Am I?’ says Ruth. ‘I didn’t realise I was.’
‘Help me look for unusual insects.’ Kate has brought a cardboard box, with holes in the lid, in case she finds one of these creatures. Flint will think it’s a takeaway.
Ruth can’t resist one last look back. The grasses seem to close behind them, shutting off their escape, and the flat landscape offers no vantage point. After about half an hour, and an attempt to capture a damsel fly, they return to the cottage. There’s still no car outside Zoe’s house.
Ruth makes tea and finds some frozen crumpets which, toasted, make good comfort food. Neither of them feels like working so Ruth gets out the Norwich Cathedral jigsaw and they start the laborious work of filling in the blue sky and grey ramparts. It’s curiously mesmerising. Steward’s House is there too, a tricky vortex of black and white. Ruth manages to forget Zoe, Eileen, Joe, even Cathbad. When she looks up, it’s almost dark outside.
‘Just going to feed Derek,’ she says. ‘Don’t answer the door to anyone while I’m gone.’
Who does she think will come knocking? Nelson? Zoe? The grim reaper? Kate leans over the puzzle, deep in concentration.
Ruth takes the key and opens Zoe’s stable door. The kitchen is silent apart from a large station-style clock ticking on the wall. Ruth goes into the sitting room and, despite her wish to hurry back to Kate, is drawn to the wedding picture and the passport photo in the frame. It was taken in the days when you were allowed to smile but Jean has barely taken advantage of this; her expression is wary. Her hair is grey though, so it wasn’t that long ago, in the shorter style that Jean adopted when she passed seventy. Where had Zoe found this picture?
A sound behind her makes Ruth jump. But it’s only Derek, appearing from some secret hiding place in search of supper. Ruth puts cat food in his bowl, cleans out his litter tray and leaves the house, locking the door behind her. She’s more certain than ever that Zoe would never have gone away without arranging for someone to take care of Derek.
Kate has almost finished the cathedral tower. Ruth goes into the kitchen to prepare supper and to lose herself in the wonderful pre-Covid world of The Archers. What will she do when they run out of pre-recorded episodes? She can’t imagine a socially distanced Ambridge. Scrolling through the evening’s TV on her phone she sees that there’s a film called The Cabin in the Woods. She looks it up and learns that it’s a horror comedy film directed by Drew Goddard. Can horror be funny? She remembers Peter’s email about the original name of the house, The Cabin. We used to joke about that. The Evil Dead and all those horror story tropes. She remembers watching The Evil Dead at the cinema in Eltham, maybe even with Daniel. It’s about a group of college students having a jolly vacation in an isolated cabin. There are, as Peter said, all the usual tropes: the porch swing moving on its own, the stopped clock, the ‘Book of the Dead’ conveniently left in a cellar, the tree branch breaking outside, the damaged bridge that means none of them can escape. It’s not long before four of the students are possessed by demons. As Ruth remembers it, only one of them survives.
The wind is now blowing strongly. In the garden, the apple tree is whipped into a frenzy. Ruth double checks that both parts of the back door are locked. She jumps when Flint bursts in through his cat flap, tail puffed up in fright. ‘What’s the matter, Flint?’ Flint meows, gazing meaningfully at his bowl. She jumps again when her phone buzzes. Nelson.
‘It’s Cathbad,’ says Nelson.
‘What?’ Suddenly the room is as cold as if hosting a cinematic demonic presence.
‘I’m sorry, love. Judy says it’s the end.’