Ruth turns to Stella. ‘You’ve been so kind.’
Stella enfolds her in a hug. ‘Come again. Bring your little girl.’
‘I will.’
‘Come on, Ruth,’ says Nelson, impatient as ever. ‘We’d better get going.’
The drive to the Saltmarsh is beautiful. The fields are white, glittering in the sun, the trees like a Christmas card. Everything ugly or utilitarian – the municipal dump, the holiday flats, the caravan selling hamburgers – has been covered with this kindly layer of magic. It’s hard to believe that last night the snow had seemed terrifying, a malign force. Now it’s sleigh rides and Santa and Holiday on Ice. They pass some teenagers sledging down a hill on bin liners, children building a snowman in their front garden, a family on their way to church, ears aglow with virtue. Ruth had forgotten that it was Sunday. They do see a few abandoned cars, an upturned bicycle, its wheels still spinning, but otherwise the snow seems delightful, designed purely for fun. The main roads have been gritted and, as they get nearer to King’s Lynn, they see cars and buses. The world is getting back to normal.
‘Thaw’s setting in,’ says Nelson. It seems like the first thing he’s said for hours.
‘It’s incredible,’ says Ruth. ‘All this snow in April.’ Her mouth feels dry; she doesn’t think she’s ever uttered a more boring sentence.
They drive in silence across the Saltmarsh. The bleak landscape of stunted trees and wind-blown grass has been transformed and a smooth white terrain unfolds in front of them, like the surface of the moon. The birds are flying lower than usual, desperate for food; occasionally a sandpiper makes a kamikaze dive down into the reed beds and the ducks walk, bemused, on iced-over marsh pools.
‘Ruth–’ says Nelson.
‘I can’t wait to see Kate,’ gabbles Ruth. ‘It feels like years since I’ve seen her. It was so kind of Judy to drive all this way…’ Her voice fades away.
‘Ruth.’ Nelson is stopping the car. Keep driving, Ruth urges him silently. I don’t want to have this conversation now. Ever.
‘We’ve got to talk.’
‘What about?’ says Ruth.
‘Jesus! What about? About everything.’
‘There’s nothing to say.’ Ruth fiddles with her seatbelt. Suddenly the car feels far too small. She knows that Nelson is looking at her but, for many reasons, she does not want to meet his eyes.
‘Look, Ruth…’ Ruth hears Nelson’s voice gearing down to his persuasive tone. ‘Last night was… well, it shouldn’t have happened.’
‘I know,’ says Ruth, looking out of the window. In the far distance, she can see the sea.
‘I mean it was… great, but–’
‘What do you mean “great”?’
‘You know what I mean. If I was single, it would be a different matter. But I’m not. We both know that.’
Would it be different? Ruth doubts it somehow. A single Nelson would never have looked twice at her; he would be off searching for a blonde Michelle clone. It was only circumstance, proximity and a host of other words meaning the same thing; meaning that she and Nelson were never really meant to be together.
‘I know you’re married,’ says Ruth, trying to keep her voice calm. ‘I’ve always respected that. I’ve never made any demands on you, even with Kate. Have I?’
‘No.’
‘Well, then. It’ll never happen again. I’ll make sure of it.’
Nelson sighs. Ruth doesn’t know if it is with relief or regret. They both sit in silence for a moment, looking out across the endless white marshes. Then Nelson starts the engine.
Judy’s jeep is parked outside the house, next to Clara’s snow-covered Mini. Ruth leaps out of the car as soon as it stops. She doesn’t look back to see if Nelson is following.
She opens the door to a bizarre domestic scene. Clara is sitting at the table, earphones in, reading. Judy is in the kitchen and Cathbad is lying on the floor playing with Kate.
Ruth rushes over and grabs Kate, holding her so tightly that she squawks. ‘Hallo, sweetheart,’ she whispers.
‘Hallo,’ answers Cathbad, still lying on the rug.
‘Cathbad! How come you’re here?’
‘Ask Judy.’
Still carrying Kate, Ruth hurries over to Judy and hugs her awkwardly, the baby between them.
‘Thank you so much for coming over.’
‘It’s okay. All part of the service. I was just making toast. I hope you don’t mind.’
‘Of course not. Have anything.’
‘Well, there wasn’t really anything else. Just cat food and baby food.’
‘Where’s Flint?’
‘Asleep on your bed. He gave me the fright of my life last night.’
Nelson has come in and is talking in a low voice to Cathbad. Ruth walks over to Clara who is watching her rather quizzically.
‘Thanks so much for staying last night, Clara.’
Clara takes out her headphones. ‘That’s okay. You didn’t really need to send the cavalry over. I was quite capable of looking after Kate for one night, you know.’
Ruth smiles, slightly embarrassed. In the light of the day, her fears seem rather stupid. But then she remembers the diary. I hate his wife. I want to kill him. No, she’s still glad that Judy was here last night. And Cathbad too. But why is he here?
Before she can ask him, Nelson cuts in. With his height, dark clothes and unsmiling face, he is incongruous in the small, cosy room. He seems determined to add to this impression, speaking in a brisk, businesslike tone, not making eye-contact with anyone.
‘I’ll drive you home, Clara,’ he says. ‘You still wouldn’t want to risk the roads round here.’
‘You can give me a lift too,’ says Cathbad, who has taken a piece of toast from Judy.
‘No,’ answers Nelson brusquely. ‘You go with Johnson.’
I’m Johnson again, am I, thinks Judy. But the boss had thanked her when he rang earlier. There’s no doubt she’s one up on Clough.
‘I’ll take you home, Cathbad,’ she says, not looking at him.
Nelson and Clara head for the door. Ruth thanks Clara profusely, trying to make up for last night’s lack of trust. Nelson says nothing.
Judy gathers up her phone and bag. ‘Coming, Cathbad?’
‘There’s no need to rush off,’ says Ruth. She rather likes the idea of sitting here with Judy and Cathbad, eating toast and talking about the marvels of Kate.
‘We’d better be off,’ says Judy. ‘I’ve got lots to do.’
‘Yes, the wedding’s in a couple of weeks, isn’t it?’ says Ruth, wanting to seem friendly. ‘You must be so excited.’
‘If you say so,’ says Judy. Rather rudely, Ruth thinks.
As soon as the door shuts behind Cathbad and Judy, Kate starts to cry. Having been angelic all night (‘She only woke up once,’ said Cathbad, ‘but I sang to her and she went back to sleep’) she now transforms into Damien from The Omen. Ruth tries milk, food, dancing round the room, singing. But obviously her singing isn’t a patch on Cathbad’s because, after the first few bars of ‘The Wheels on the Bus’, Kate howls louder than ever. In desperation, Ruth switches on the TV, jiggling Kate up and down as she fumbles with the remote. She flicks between sonorous church services and black-and-white films, trying to find something child-friendly. Eventually Kate stops sobbing and stares entranced at the screen which is bright green with little figures running around madly. She might have guessed. Kate has obviously inherited the football gene from her father. Another thing to hold against him. But Ruth is too grateful for the peace to feel too aggrieved. She settles down on the sofa, with Kate against her shoulder, to watch Manchester United versus Chelsea.
This is how, ten minutes later, Tatjana finds her.
‘I didn’t know you were a football fan, Ruth.’