Dying Fall

me a favour,’ says Nelson. ‘Don’t tell me why.’ Cathbad had, earlier, offered to tell Nelson the story of the Pendle Witches and was rudely rebuffed. ‘I don’t want to hear any bloody silly fairy stories, thanks very much.’ Cathbad hadn’t been offended although now the bird’s appearance seems to have jolted him.
    ‘Ravens are meant to speak with the voices of the dead,’ he says.
    ‘Save it for my mum,’ says Nelson. He hasn’t forgiven Cathbad for the tea party, which lasted until nearly seven o’clock. Maureen had told Cathbad all her psychic experiences and he had suggested that she might be a reincarnation of an Egyptian prophetess.
    ‘Your mother’s a wonderful woman,’ says Cathbad.
    ‘I’ll take your word for it.’
    Maureen keeps saying that they must have Cathbad and Ruth for dinner one night. She persists in thinking of them as a couple (‘the babby’s the image of her daddy’) and wonders why they haven’t got married. It’s driving Nelson mad. Today Ruth has gone to see Susan Chow, the county archaeologist. She’s taken Kate with her so it’ll be a short trip.
    ‘Which way now?’ Nelson asks.
    ‘Left. Towards Fence.’
    ‘Jesus. What sort of a person lives in a godforsaken place like this?’
    ‘The same sort of person who lives on the Saltmarsh,’ says Cathbad, with a sly sideways glance.
    Nelson doesn’t reply. He might not approve of Ruth’s choice of location (it’s no place to bring up a child) but he doesn’t like anyone else to criticise her. Besides, Ruth’s nothing like this Pendragon nutcase.
    They reach the steep valley with the white house in the middle, like the epiglottis in a giant throat. Nelson parks the car by the gate and they approach the cottage on foot. As they walk, the wind suddenly picks up andthe stunted trees on the hill lash to and fro. A flock of birds flies overhead, low and sinister.
    ‘Why the hell hasn’t he got a proper drive?’ asks Nelson. He could walk all day on pavements but something about the countryside makes him uneasy.
    ‘He hasn’t got a car,’ says Cathbad.
    ‘Typical.’
    This time Pendragon does not come out to meet them, gun in hand. Perhaps some sixth sense has told him that this isn’t a good idea with a policeman around. They reach the front door undisturbed.
    ‘Pen!’ shouts Cathbad. ‘It’s me. Cathbad.’
    His voice echoes dramatically around the valley. Pen, pen, pen, pen. Bad, bad, bad, bad …
    ‘I knew he’d be out,’ says Nelson.’ That’s what you get for not being on the phone. He’s probably gone to some wizard’s tea party.’
    Cathbad tries the handle. The door opens. The next moment a solid wedge of fur and muscle flies at him.
    ‘Jesus.’ Nelson takes a step back.
    ‘It’s OK,’ says Cathbad, from a sitting position on the hearthrug. ‘He’s friendly.’
    ‘I can see that,’ says Nelson, rather ashamed of his reaction. He likes dogs and once owned a German Shepherd called (funnily enough) Max.
    ‘Hello, boy,’ says Cathbad, getting to his feet. ‘Where’s your master?’
    ‘Away with the fairies,’ says Nelson, looking round the low-ceilinged room with its twinkling dream-catchers. It’slike stepping back in time, he thinks. No TV, no telephone. Not even, unless he’s much mistaken, any electric light. His worst fears are realised when Cathbad lights an oil lamp to search the rest of the house. Thing, apparently undisturbed, lies down in front of the fire.
    Nelson squats down and examines the embers. Still smouldering. Wherever he is, Pendragon can’t have gone far.
    *
    Susan Chow is a small, neat woman who makes Ruth feel like she’s more than usually enormous. She and Kate seem to fill Susan’s little office above the county library. First the pushchair gets stuck in the doorway, then Ruth can’t manoeuvre herself around the wheels to sit at the desk opposite Susan. Eventually she manages, knocking over a pile of books and a papier-mâché model of a Neolithic causewayed enclosure. She leaves Kate in the pushchair, hoping that her picture book will keep her entertained. It’s a present from Cathbad, a rather New-Agey publication called
Sun, Moon, Stars
. Kate loves it and refuses to be parted from it. Now she sucks a page ruminatively.
    ‘Thanks for seeing me,’ says Ruth, setting the enclosure back on the desk.
    ‘My pleasure,’ says Susan. ‘I was so sorry to hear about Dan.’
    ‘Me too,’ says Ruth. She doesn’t know what to say when