A Room Full of Bones: A Ruth Galloway Investigation

heard of Aboriginal people being hunted, literally being hunted like animals. There are rumours that these skulls were then scalped. It was the British, not the Native Americans, who were the first to scalp their victims – and then keep the skin as a souvenir.’
    Ruth thinks of the telltale marks on the skull in the Smith Museum. Was she right to tell Cathbad and Bob? She can’t help feeling uneasy about the fact that, the day after this revelation, Lord Smith was dead. It’s not that she suspects Cathbad or Bob. She looks over at Bob now and he smiles at her. He is sitting in the back row, very much at his ease, legs crossed, head back, listening to Derel’s lecture. No, Danforth Smith’s death can only have been coincidence, but even so it makes her feel glad that she hasn’t got any Aboriginal remains lying around the house.
Think how much worse it is to take the very bones of our ancestors and keep them on the other side of the world
.
    Why had Danforth Smith been so determined not to return the skulls? They weren’t even on display anymore. And although he had seemed proud of the gruesome collection, Ruth could not see that he got much pleasure from the museum as a whole. That day (was it only last week?) when she had examined the bones, Lord Smith had seemed tired, almost frightened, and the museum itself had seemed a sad place, dusty and forlorn. Ruth can’t see it ever opening again. Who would trek down a side street full of office blocks just to look at a few stuffed animals? No, better to let the place die with Neil Topham and Danforth Smith and quietly return the skulls to Australia. In any case, Ruth has done her bit. She has written a report, stating the bones are not being kept in appropriate conditions, and has submitted it to the Department for Culture, Media and Sport. She hopes this might encourage the authorities to put pressure on the Smith family to return them. But the truth is that, asthe relics are privately owned, government has little or no influence. It’s as if Lord Smith really did own them, body and soul. But who owns them now? Smith had a son, she knows. Will he be the new Lord Smith?
    Lunch, from a local vegan restaurant, is absolutely delicious. It’s such a lovely day that the French windows are open onto the garden and Ruth and Max sit on a stone seat with Claudia panting at their feet. It is only a few minutes before Cathbad comes up, accompanied by a dark woman in a red dress.
    ‘Max. Good to see you. Ruth, I’d like you to meet Caroline Smith.’
    Ruth jumps up, brushing crumbs off her trousers. Caroline is a good-looking woman of about thirty. There is something oddly old-fashioned about her. Just as Cathbad often looks as if he is wearing fancy dress when he isn’t, Caroline somehow gives the impression of being in period clothing. Her hair is scraped up in a bun and the dress, an unfashionable ankle length, could be Edwardian or even Victorian. Funnily enough, it reminds Ruth of the skirt in
Can These Dry Bones Live?
She supposes that Caroline, like the painting’s subject, is also in mourning.
    ‘I was so sorry to hear about your father,’ she says.
    ‘Thank you,’ says Caroline. She has rather a hesitant voice, at odds with her commanding presence. ‘I wasn’t sure whether to come today. Tam … my family thought I shouldn’t, but Cathbad persuaded me.’
    ‘He’s very persuasive.’ Ruth echoes Max.
    ‘I’m fascinated by the Aboriginal peoples,’ says Caroline.‘I once spent a year in Australia. You know that the Aborigine map of Australia is quite different? It’s literally a different country.’
    ‘The names are different aren’t they,’ offers Ruth. ‘Ayers Rock …’
    ‘Yes, Ayers Rock is a colonialist name. Its real name is Uluru. It’s part of the Ulura-Kata Tjata National Park. The red heart of Australia.’
    She manages the names with aplomb but there is something so intense about her that Ruth backs away a little.
    ‘How do you know Cathbad?’ she asks.
    ‘I went to one of his archaeology courses.’
    ‘Cathbad runs archaeology courses?’ Ruth can’t help but be aggrieved. She’s the one who works in the archaeology department but Cathbad has never mentioned any courses to her.
    ‘It’s not conventional archaeology,’ says Cathbad modestly. ‘It’s more about ritual and mystic symbolism.’
    ‘Oh.’ Ruth stops feeling aggrieved. Mystic symbolism’s not exactly on the university curriculum.
    ‘Of course,’ says