‘I met Cathbad at the university,’ explained Dieter. ‘He invited me. I hope you don’t mind.’
‘Why should I mind?’ said Ruth, rather sulkily. Cathbad can hardly know Dieter, who is doing some research in the history department, very well. Ruth suspects him of extending the invitation to annoy Phil, who might be jealous of Dieter’s academic reputation (and his good looks). What is more surprising is how close Dieter and Clara seem, arm-in-arm, laughing warmly over shared jokes, speaking in German together. He has only been here a few days after all.
‘Clara’s been a great help to me,’ Dieter explained. ‘Telling me many stories of local history.’ He gave Ruth a rather meaningful look.
Clara laughed. ‘And I’ve been practising my German. I spent a year in Germany before going to uni but I’m awfully rusty. I wish I’d worked harder at school now.’
‘I bet you were the model pupil,’ said Dieter with a smouldering look.
‘Oh, I was useless,’ said Clara carelessly. ‘I was expelled from two schools.’
Well, Dieter was certainly making every effort to help Clara catch up, retiring with her into a corner of Ruth’s sitting room and managing, with clever body language, to block out the rest of the company altogether.
To her surprise, Ruth found that she was enjoying the party. It’s been a long time since she had so many people in her house and, since Cathbad and Freya provided the food and drink, it’s hardly a strain on her as hostess, though she had trouble finding enough plates and glasses (Clough is drinking from a Winnie the Pooh mug and Phil is eating from one of Kate’s moulded plastic bowls). Ruth was just settling down to a good chat with Judy when there was a thunderous knock at the door.
‘That’ll be the boss,’ said Clough. ‘Trying to force entry.’
Oh please God, no.
But Clough was right. Standing framed in the doorway were Nelson, unsmiling in jeans and a leather jacket, and Michelle, carrying a huge, beribboned parcel.
‘I know we weren’t supposed to bring presents,’ said Michelle. ‘But I think this’ll be useful.’
Ruth accepted the present with thanks, her heart sinking. Despite Cathbad’s directive, Kate was actually doing quite well for gifts but the Nelson offering dwarfed the rest.
‘Do open it, Ruth,’ said Michelle, accepting a glass of punch from a suddenly attentive Cathbad. Where the hell had he found a clean glass?
Ruth hates opening presents with other people watching (memories of grisly Christmas mornings pretending to be grateful for a Bible) but there was no refusing without looking churlish. Gingerly, she tore the pink flowered paper.
‘Wow! It’s a… it’s wonderful… what is it?’
It was a pink gingham chair attached to a wide base on wheels. The chair had a tray in front bristling with things to touch and press and crinkle. It looked faintly alarming, like a power base for a pink-checked alien. Ruth had a sudden flashback to Doctor Who and the Daleks. Exterminate, exterminate.
‘It’s a baby walker,’ laughed Michelle. ‘You put her in the chair and she can walk around. Well, she won’t be able to do it yet, but in a few months she’ll be whizzing about.’
Ruth found the idea of Kate on wheels rather frightening. At least, like the Daleks, she won’t be able to go upstairs.
‘Wow. It’s fantastic. Thanks.’
‘Where’s Kate? I haven’t seen her for ages.’
In the first months of Kate’s life, Michelle had put herself out to be kind to Ruth. She came all the way to the Saltmarsh to coo and offer advice. She suggested meeting in town, she volunteered to drive Ruth and Kate to the park, she even offered to take Kate swimming ‘at my club’. Ruth was touched, and she yearned for female friendship, especially from someone who had been through the whole baby thing herself, but however much she tried to pretend that Kate had no father, that she had sprung fully formed from Ruth’s brain like a modern-day Athena, she couldn’t quite face the prospect of playing happy families with Nelson’s wife. So she wriggled out of the invitations, pleading work and tiredness, and when Michelle eventually stopped ringing, she felt both relieved and disappointed.
But this evening Michelle was all friendliness, and admiration for Kate.
‘Oh, isn’t she gorgeous? Can I hold her?’
Ruth is always surprised how maternal Michelle is. For someone so glamorous, she doesn’t give a thought to sick on her shoulder or a baby grabbing handfuls of her hair. She held Kate expertly (not even relinquishing her glass) and nuzzled her head.
‘Oh, she’s lovely. I’d forgotten how they smell. Look, Harry. Do you want a hold?’
‘I’m fine, thanks,’ said Nelson.
Now, as the guests traipse out into the garden, Ruth looks back and sees Nelson helping Michelle on with her swishy red coat. She smiles and leans back against him. Behind them, Dieter and Clara are still whispering together. Love is in the air, thinks Ruth sourly, it must be the effects of Cathbad’s home-made punch.
‘This ceremony is called a wiccaning or a saining,’ Cathbad explained earlier. ‘It’s to introduce Kate to the Gods.’
‘Or, if you don’t believe any of that tosh,’ put in Ruth, ‘it’s just a party.’
But, now, in the dark, with the fire leaping upwards, it does feel more like a ceremony than a party.
‘The Guardians, that’s Shona and I,’ says Cathbad modestly, ‘should stand either side of the table. Ruth, you hold Kate in the middle.’
Ruth obeys. She’s willing to go along with Cathbad only so far. At the first sign of human sacrifice, she’ll be straight back indoors.
‘What is the baby’s full name?’ he asks in his Druid voice, echoey and impressive.
‘Kate,’ says Ruth. ‘Kate Scarlet.’
She looks at Nelson and finds, to her horror, that she can’t look away. Only the two of them know the significance of the name though, to judge by Judy’s sudden start, some of the others might guess. Scarlet Henderson, the little girl involved in the abduction case that first drew Ruth and Nelson together.
For a full minute, Ruth and Nelson stare at each other across the flames. Then, to Ruth’s relief, Cathbad starts speaking again.
‘May the gods keep this child pure and perfect, and let anything that is negative stay far beyond her world.’
He puts his finger in the olive oil and gently touches Kate’s forehead. Ruth watches him closely to check that he doesn’t trace any sinister symbol on her, but no, it’s just a touch. Then, he puts his finger in the wine and places a drop on Kate’s lips. She smiles. Her mother’s daughter.
‘May you always have good fortune,’ intones Cathbad, ‘may you always have good health, may you always be joyful, and may you always have love in your heart.’
Once again, Ruth looks at Nelson. He is staring into the fire.
‘You are known to the gods and to us as Kate Scarlet. This is your name, and it is powerful. Bear your name with honour, and may the gods bless you on this and every day.’ He passes the wine to Ruth. ‘Drink and pass on.’
He then addresses the wider circle. ‘As you drink, say aloud: “I honour you, Kate Scarlet.”’
Ruth takes a sip. The wine rushes to her head like whisky. ‘I honour you, Kate Scarlet,’ she croaks. She passes the cup to Shona who takes an enthusiastic gulp. ‘I honour you, Kate Scarlet,’ she says, her voice loud and clear. She passes the cup on to Dieter.
‘I honour you, Kate Scarlet,’ he bows slightly.
‘I honour you, Kate Scarlet,’ echoes Clara.
‘I honour you, Kate Scarlet.’ Clough sounds as if he is laughing.