THE HOUSE AT SEA’S END

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.
    ‘I honour you, Kate Scarlet.’ Trace is expressionless.
    ‘I honour you, Kate Scarlet.’ Tatjana, putting the stress on the ‘you’.
    ‘I honour you, Kate Scarlet,’ Ted booms as loudly as Cathbad himself.
    ‘I honour you, Kate Scarlet.’ Judy’s voice is soft.
    ‘I honour you, Kate Scarlet.’ Phil’s self-conscious mumble.
    ‘I honour you, Kate Scarlet.’ Freya’s fervent whisper.
    Michelle takes the cup with complete self-possession. ‘I honour you, Kate Scarlet.’ Nelson takes the wine. His lips move but no-one hears any words. The flames have risen so that Ruth cannot see his face.
    Cathbad replaces the cup on the table. ‘Can I have her?’ he asks Ruth. Rather reluctantly Ruth hands over the bundle in the blue snow suit. Cathbad holds the baby up to the night sky. ‘Welcome, Kate Scarlet. We ask the gods to watch over you and over your father and mother.’ He turns to Ruth, smiling. ‘That’s it.’
    Numbly, Ruth follows Cathbad back into the house. Why did he say that about father and mother? Does he suspect something or did he just download the whole thing from paganceremonies.co.uk? That’s the trouble with Cathbad, you never know how much is airy-fairy spiritual stuff and how much is good old-fashioned stirring. Did the other guests suspect anything? She doesn’t think any of them were listening very hard – they all had the slightly glazed expression of people in church. Nelson will have noticed though, she’s sure of that.
    Kate has fallen asleep and Ruth is glad to escape upstairs and put her to bed. She takes off Kate’s snow suit and puts her, still dressed in her babygro, into her cot, under the blanket knitted by Ruth’s mother. What would Ruth’s parents make of the ceremony around the fire? In all probability,they’d be searching for their bell, book and candle at the first sight of the fire or the oil or the cup of wine.
    But when Ruth goes downstairs and starts talking to Judy over the remains of the punch, Judy says, ‘It reminded me of the Catholic mass. You know, sharing the wine and all that.’
    Ruth wonders if the analogy also occurred to Nelson who, like Judy, was brought up a Catholic.
    ‘Are you getting married in a Catholic church?’ she asks.
    Judy grimaces. ‘Yes. The full nuptial mass. Darren’s a Catholic too. We met at school.’
    ‘It must be nice,’ says Ruth, ‘knowing someone that well.’
    Judy fishes a slice of orange out of the punch and eats it meditatively. ‘It is nice. I mean, we’ve got the same memories, the same friends. Our families all know each other.’ She laughs. ‘I can’t help wondering what it would be like to go to bed with someone you hardly know. God, I must be drunk.’
    Ruth thinks of a dark night, a terrible discovery, an unknown body moving against hers.
    ‘It may be exciting,’ she says, ‘but I think the best thing must be to go to bed with someone who