After that, it’s all rather chaotic. Tanya appears, leading Hugh by the arm. He keeps asking what’s going on, in a plaintive voice, but Tanya tells Nelson not to be fooled. ‘Judy’s got evidence of him at Avril Flowers’ house on the day she died.’
It’s quite a shock to see the paramedics wearing masks. For the last few hours, Ruth has managed to forget the pandemic altogether. They want Nelson to go in the ambulance with them, but he refuses. ‘The hospital’s full of Covid patients. They don’t need more work.’ In the end, he agrees to go with Zoe and promises to drive her home afterwards. Zoe’s car is presumably parked around here somewhere. One of the uniformed police officers takes Nelson’s Mercedes. Hugh is in the back of the police van. Despite his threat, Nelson doesn’t seem to have charged Joe McMahon with anything and Ruth hears Janet offering him and Eileen a bed for the night. Ruth and Tanya walk back to the cathedral close.
‘How did you know about Hugh?’ Ruth asks Tanya.
‘Judy sent me a photo of him. I don’t know how she got it. It was a bit blurred, but I recognised the white hair.’ Tanya is silent for a few minutes as she starts the car and performs a sharp three-point turn to exit through the gateway. Then she says, ‘Ruth . . . Judy said Cathbad was dying.’
‘What?’ Ruth realises with horror that she has forgotten Cathbad too in the excitement of rescuing Zoe. ‘Why didn’t you say?’ she whispers.
‘I suppose I put it to the back of my mind,’ says Tanya, sounding rather defensive. ‘I had a job to do, remember.’
‘I’ll text Judy,’ says Ruth, although she’d rather throw her phone out of the window. Tanya had recovered it from Hugh Baxter and Ruth has already texted Kate to say she’s on her way.
But, when she activates the screen, there’s already a message there.
Good news! Cathbad has come round. Docs say a miracle.
Ruth relays this, tears running down her face. Tanya, too, is wiping her eyes as they take the road for King’s Lynn.
It’s ten thirty by the time they reach the police station. Kate is asleep on a sofa in the custody suite, Tony is watching Brooklyn 99 on his phone.
‘She’s only just gone to sleep,’ he tells Ruth. ‘She’s seriously good at battleships.’
‘Thank you so much for looking after her,’ says Ruth. She’ll have to buy Tony a present tomorrow. She wakes Kate who opens her eyes and says, ‘I’m leading thirty games to twenty-five.’
Ruth hugs her. ‘Have you thanked Tony for looking after you?’
‘He didn’t mind,’ says Kate. ‘He loves playing battleships.’
But she does thank Tony who says it was a pleasure. Ruth knows that he and Tanya are keen to get on with their work. Hugh Baxter is being booked in at the front desk but Ruth doesn’t know if they’ll question him now or tomorrow morning. She and Kate exit through the back door and are soon on their way home. Kate is suddenly wide awake and Ruth winds down the windows to keep them both that way. She puts on her favourite Bruce Springsteen CD and they race through the dark Norfolk roads telling each other that they were born to run.
Flint is waiting by the front door, looking outraged. Ruth feeds him and tells Kate to get into bed. When she goes up to kiss her goodnight, Kate is already asleep, clutching a cuddly chimpanzee, an old birthday present from Nelson. Somehow, the sight of it makes Ruth want to cry again. She has told Kate the good news about Cathbad, but her daughter was not surprised. ‘It’s all the praying I’ve been doing,’ she said. Ruth now mutters one of Cathbad’s own mantras, ‘Goddess bless, Goddess keep.’ Then she goes downstairs to wait for Nelson.
Ruth is dreaming about underground prisons when headlights illuminate the room. She hears voices and then Nelson is at the door. For a moment, they stare at each other and then Nelson wraps his arms round Ruth, as solid and comforting as ever.
‘Zoe’s next door,’ he says, into her hair. ‘I think she’d like a chat if you’re not too tired. I’ll be here with Katie.’
‘Will you be here when I get back?’ asks Ruth.
‘Of course I will.’
It’s midnight now but suddenly Ruth isn’t tired at all. On impulse, she takes a bottle of wine with her and knocks on the stable door. Zoe answers immediately, Derek in her arms.
‘Thank you for looking after him,’ she says.
‘That’s OK.’ Ruth pats the cat’s silky head. He shuts his eyes, enduring her.
‘Nelson says you know,’ says Zoe, ‘about us being sisters. Half sisters.’
‘I guessed some of it,’ says Ruth. ‘I saw the photograph of my mum next to your wedding picture.’ She supposes that she should say ‘our mum’, but that seems a step too far.
‘Let’s have a drink,’ says Zoe. She leads the way into the unfamiliar, familiar sitting room. Slightly too late, Ruth remembers social distancing and sits on the chaise longue, which is as uncomfortable as she imagined, rather than joining Zoe on the sofa. Zoe pours them both a glass of red.
‘I always knew I was adopted,’ says Zoe. ‘Mum and Dad must have told me when I was very young. We celebrated my adoption day as well as my birthday. But I didn’t have any urge to look for my birth parents while they were alive. Then I got divorced and Mum and Dad died within months of each other. Then there was the court case. Do you know about that?’
‘Yes,’ says Ruth. ‘It must have been awful.’
‘It was a nightmare,’ says Zoe. ‘I knew I was innocent but, at times, I even thought I must be guilty because everyone else seemed so certain. That feeling didn’t go away even when they found the real culprit. I changed my name and I thought: maybe it’s time to find out who I really am.’
‘Did you send off for your adoption records?’ Ruth has been doing some research.
‘Yes. And there it was. Mother: Jean Finch. It didn’t take long for me to find her married name. I wrote to her.’
‘When was this?’ asks Ruth.
‘Six years ago,’ says Zoe. She takes a sip of wine and strokes Derek, who is stretched out beside her.
‘Jean wrote back,’ she says, after another pause. ‘It was a kind letter, but she didn’t want to see me. She said she hadn’t told her husband or her children about me. But she did say she hoped we could meet in the future. But she sent me a photograph. And she told me my father’s name.’
‘What was it?’ asks Ruth.
Zoe laughs. ‘Derek. I named the cat after him, but I haven’t tried to get in contact. I suppose I felt a bit bruised after Jean’s response. Apparently, Derek was someone Jean worked with at the bank. She was in love with him but he was married.’
And, once again, Ruth hears her mother’s voice. ‘What do you mean you’re pregnant? You’re not even married.’ If only you’d told me, Mum, she thinks.
‘Jean didn’t feel able to bring up a child as a single mother,’ says Zoe. ‘They were different times, that’s what she said. I’ll show you her letter. I did hope that we would meet but . . .’
‘But she died the next year,’ says Ruth. ‘How did you find out?’
‘There was something in her local paper,’ says Zoe. ‘I’d put a search link on the name Jean Galloway. It was a shock but then, I’m afraid, I turned my attention to you. I’ve always wanted a sister.’
‘Me too,’ says Ruth.
‘It was quite difficult to stalk you,’ says Zoe, with a slight smile. ‘You don’t have any social media presence, but I read your books and watched your TV programmes.’
‘Oh God,’ says Ruth.
‘I thought you were wonderful,’ says Zoe. ‘I was in awe of you. Then this house came up for rent and I had a chance to be your neighbour. I grabbed it.’
‘I’m glad you did,’ says Ruth. ‘Did you realise that your foster mother had lived next door? In my house?’
‘No,’ says Zoe. ‘Did she really? I don’t really remember her, but I was always told that she was very kind. Maybe that’s why these houses always felt so homelike.’
‘It was the same with me,’ says Ruth. ‘I wanted to live here as soon as I saw the cottages. Maybe I sensed that it had been a safe place. That’s what Cathbad would say anyway.’
‘Cathbad?’ says Zoe. ‘He’s one of our patients. I’d heard he was in hospital. Is he OK?’
‘I think he will be,’ says Ruth, reluctant to talk about it for fear of jinxing the miracle. ‘I found a picture of my cottage when I was going through my mum’s things. Our mum. On the back it said, “Dawn 1963”.’
‘I was born in 1963,’ says Zoe.
‘I know,’ says Ruth. ‘You’re five years older than me.’
‘I’ve got a little sister,’ says Zoe with a smile. ‘It’s been wonderful getting to know you. I didn’t count on being locked down together though. Or being kidnapped by a murderous pensioner.’
‘To be fair,’ says Ruth, ‘those were hard things to predict.’
‘I’ll get you the letter,’ says Zoe. ‘And then I’ll make us both a cup of tea.’
Ruth is sure that this is an excuse to leave her alone with her mother’s words and she’s grateful.
Dear Dawn (I know you are Zoe now but wanted to call you that name just once),
I can’t pretend it wasn’t a shock to hear from you. I’ve always thought about you, though, and I’m glad that your adoption was a happy one. I’m afraid I don’t feel able to meet with you just yet. I haven’t told my husband and children about you and I still don’t feel ready to do so. One day, I’m sure, our time will come.
You deserve to hear the story of your birth. I met Derek at the bank where I worked. He was older than me and seemed glamorous and sophisticated. We started an affair (an awful word but what’s the alternative?) but I didn’t know he was married. I only found out when I fell pregnant with you. Derek refused to leave his wife and I couldn’t face life as a single mother. They were different times then. My daughter is a wonderful single parent but I didn’t have her courage. My parents were furious and I went into an ‘unmarried mother’s home’ to have you. I was only allowed to see you once. You were a beautiful baby and it broke my heart to say goodbye to you. I named you Dawn after Sleeping Beauty. I was told that your foster parents were good people and I managed to find out where they lived. I even went to their cottage one day but wasn’t brave enough to knock on the door. I took a photograph of the house – little knowing how important it was going to be to my family – and have often looked at it over the years.
Shortly after your birth, I met Arthur and married him. He was already a Christian but we were both Born Again fourteen years later. God has been such a comfort to me. I hope He is in your life. We have two children. Simon is married with two grown-up sons. Ruth is a very successful archaeologist (she has written books!!) and she has a lovely daughter, Kate. I do hope you can meet them all one day.
God bless you.
Your mother
Jean
Ruth finishes this letter in a haze of tears. Our time will come. A wonderful single parent. It broke my heart to say goodbye to you. She has written books!!
She thinks she loves her mother more for those two exclamation marks than for anything else.