The Crossing Places

'You're late,' Nelson greets her.

'Actually I'm early. It's only twenty-five minutes since you rang,' she counters.

As she pulls on her boots, Ruth wonders exactly why Nelson has invited her today. It is not as if he will need her archaeological knowledge and, unlike Erik, she barely knows Cathbad. Nelson is a mystery altogether. Coming home late from Sammy's party, she had not been that surprised to see her mobile phone flashing. Calls are always delayed on New Year's Eve and she expected it to be one of her friends, perhaps Shona, ringing from a drunken party. The first message had indeed been from Shona, Happy New Year. I h8 Liam. The second had been from Erik but the third, intriguingly, had declared itself 'caller unknown'. Pressing read Ruth had at first wondered who HN could be. It was not until she had read the fourth message that it had come to her. Harry Nelson.

Detective Chief Inspector Harry Nelson. Ringing to wish her a Happy New Year. What did it all mean?

The fourth message had been from Peter.

'It's over there,' says Nelson, pointing.

Ruth sees a decrepit caravan parked right at the top of the beach. It is surrounded by upturned fishing boats and is partly covered by a tarpaulin. In fact, it almost looks like another boat apart from the fact that it is painted purple and has a lightning rod attached to the roof.

Ruth looks quizzically at Nelson.

Nelson shrugs. 'Perhaps he's afraid of lightning.'

Or he wants to attract it, thinks Ruth.

They plod across the stony beach, Ruth's boots holding up better than Nelson's brogues. Two fishermen sitting on the harbour wall look at them curiously. As they reach the caravan, Nelson raises his hand to knock on the door but it is opened before he can connect. A figure wearing a long purple cloak and carrying a staff stands outlined in the doorway.

Cathbad. Ruth's first thought is that he hasn't changed much in ten years. Then, his hair had been long and dark, sometimes tied back in a ponytail, sometimes hanging loose about his shoulders. Now it is shorter and streaked with grey.

He has grown a beard which, strangely, remains jet black, so that it looks rather like a disguise, as if it is attached with elastic around the ears. His eyes are dark too and suspicious now as he watches them. Ruth remembers him as nervous, edgy, always likely to explode in either rage or laughter. Now he seems calmer, more in control. Ruth notices, though, that the hand gripping the staff is white around the knuckles.

'Michael Malone?' Nelson greets him formally.

'Cathbad.'

'Mr Malone, also known as Cathbad, I'm Detective Chief Inspector Nelson from Norfolk Police. Can we come in?' As an afterthought, he adds. 'And this is Doctor Ruth Galloway from North Norfolk University.'

Cathbad turns his dark gaze on Ruth.

"I know you,' he says slowly.

'We met at a dig,' says Ruth, 'on the Saltmarsh, ten years ago.'

"I remember,' says Cathbad slowly. 'You were with a man. A redheaded man.'

To her annoyance Ruth finds herself blushing. She is sure Nelson is looking at her.

'Yes,' she says, "I was.'

'Can we come in?' asks Nelson again.

Silently, Cathbad stands aside to let them into the caravan.

Inside, the first sensation is of being in a tent. Midnight blue draperies hang from the ceiling and cover every piece of furniture. Ruth can just make out a bunk bed with cupboards under it, a cooker, covered with rust and food stains, a wooden bench seat and a table, this time covered with billowing red material. The blue drapes give a strangely dreamlike feeling, as do the twenty or so dream catchers twinkling gently from the ceiling. The air is thick and musty. Ruth sees Nelson sniffing hopefully but she doesn't think it is cannabis. Joss sticks, more likely.

Cathbad gestures them towards the bench before seating himself in a high-backed wizard's chair. First point to him, thinks Ruth.

'Mr Malone,' says Nelson. 'We're investigating a murder and we'd like to ask you a few questions.'

Cathbad looks at them calmly. 'You're very abrupt,' he says, 'are you a Scorpio?'

Nelson ignores him. From his pocket he pulls out a photograph and puts it on the table in front of Cathbad.

'Do you recognise this girl?' he asks.

Ruth looks curiously at the picture. She has never seen a picture of Lucy Downey and is struck by the resemblance to Scarlet Henderson. The same dark, curling hair, the same smiling mouth. Only the clothes are different. Lucy Downey is wearing a grey school uniform. Scarlet, in the picture Ruth saw, had been wearing a fairy dress.

'No,' says Cathbad shortly. 'What's all this about?'

'This little girl vanished ten years ago,' says Nelson, 'when you and your mates were getting all worked up about that henge thing. I wondered if you'd seen her.'

Unexpectedly, Cathbad is angry. Ruth remembers his ability to change emotions in a second. Now, his face dark in the blue light, he looks like his younger self.

'That henge thing,' he says in a voice shaking with rage, 'was a holy site, a place dedicated to worship and sacrifice. And Doctor Galloway's friends proceeded to destroy it.'

Ruth is rather shocked to find herself under attack.

Nelson, though, positively quivers at the words 'worship and sacrifice'.

'We didn't destroy it,' Ruth says, rather lamely. 'It's at the university. In the museum.'

'The museum!' mimics Cathbad savagely. 'A dead place, full of bones and corpses.'

'Mr Malone,' cuts in Nelson. 'Ten years ago, you were… how old?'

'I'm forty-two now. Not that I count the years on the temporal plane.'

Nelson ignores this. 'So, ten years ago you would have been thirty-two.'

'Full marks for the maths, Detective Chief Inspector.'

'What were you doing ten years ago, aged thirty-two?'

'Looking up at the stars, listening to the music of the spheres.'

Nelson leans forward. He doesn't raise his voice but suddenly Ruth feels the temperature in the caravan drop.

She is suddenly aware of an undercurrent of violence in the room. And it isn't coming from Cathbad.

'Look,' says Nelson softly, 'either you answer my questions civilly or we go down to the station and do it there.

And, I promise you, when it gets out that you've been questioned in connection with this case, you won't be looking at the stars. You'll be looking at a gang of vigilantes trying to burn your bloody caravan down.'

Cathbad looks at Nelson for a long moment, drawing his cloak around him as if for protection. Then he says, in a low monotone, 'Ten years ago I was living in a commune near Cromer.'

'And prior to that?'

"I was a student.' I 'Where?'

'Manchester.' Cathbad suddenly looks at Ruth and smiles, rather oddly. 'Studying archaeology.'

Ruth lets out an involuntary gasp. 'But that's where-'

'Erik Anderssen taught. Yes. That's where I met him.'

Nelson seems uninterested in this but Ruth's mind is racing. So Cathbad knew Erik long before the henge dig.

Why hadn't Erik mentioned it? Erik had been her tutor when she did her doctorate at Southampton but she knew that previously he had been a lecturer at Manchester. Why hadn't Erik told her that he had been Cathbad's tutor too?

'So, what did you do, on this commune? Did any of you do any real work?'

'Depends what you mean by real,' says Cathbad with a flash of his old spirit. 'We grew vegetables, we cooked them, we made music, we sang, we made love. And I was a postman,' he adds, as an afterthought.

'A postman?'

'Yes. Is that real enough for you? Early starts, it suited me fine. I love the dawn, leaves you with the rest of the day free.'