The Locked Room (Ruth Galloway #14)(69)
‘It’s Cathbad,’ says Nelson.
‘What?’ Suddenly the room is as cold as if hosting a cinematic demonic presence.
‘I’m sorry, love. Judy says it’s the end.’
Chapter 35
That night she sees the Grey Lady. She has no idea what time it is, drifting in an uneasy state between waking and sleeping. She opens her eyes. Or does she? There’s a woman standing in front of her, dressed in long grey robes. Her hand is outstretched, as if she’s offering something, but she can’t see what it is. It’s the eyes that she remembers most. They look so sad.
She must have fallen asleep because, when she wakes up, her sleeping bag is wet with condensation. Was the Grey Lady ever there, gazing at her with her sweet, sad eyes? He’s left a bucket for her to pee in and she does that, gagging at the stench of ammonia. She can’t be sick again because there’s nothing in her stomach. She almost takes another pill, just for the sensation of swallowing, but she manages to stop herself.
She never hears him approaching. It’s as if he has paws instead of feet. Like a cat. She’s drifting in and out of sleep when the grille opens and she hears his voice.
‘It’s me,’ he says. But who else would it be?
She takes the plate. It contains another apple and a tiny piece of cheese.
‘You’ll lose weight in no time,’ he says from behind the door.
Will she continue to lose weight until she’s nothing but a skeleton? There are more pills too.
‘Why are you giving me medicine?’ she says.
‘Just swallow them,’ he says, ‘and then you’ll be free.’
‘Give me some water then.’
He pushes a bottle through. She takes a gulp.
‘Have you taken a pill?’ There’s a new note in his voice. Excitement.
‘Yes.’
‘Good girl.’
Is that what the Grey Lady was doing? Holding out pills for her to take? But, no, she’s convinced that the Lady was a friendly spirit. The way she’d looked at her was so sorrowful, so understanding. Our Lady of the Sorrows. But maybe this was just because she’s dead too. Sometimes she imagines that everyone else in the world is dead, victims of the virus, and there’s only her, battering on her prison door, shouting into the silence.
Ruth barely sleeps. She dreams about Cathbad, about walking with him on the Blackpool sands, about Cathbad climbing into the sky to rescue Kate. She sees a room with ballet dancer wallpaper, Cathbad weeping when Michael was born, his face when he performed Kate’s naming ceremony. May the gods keep this child perfect and let anything that is negative stay far beyond her world.
Flint starts meowing outside the door at five a.m., just when Ruth has fallen into an uneasy sleep. Light is filtering in through the curtains. She might as well get up. Ruth checks her phone. Nothing from Judy. But would she tell Ruth if the worst had happened? ‘Think it’s the end’ is what Judy had texted to Nelson. What if the end has already happened? Is Ruth living in a post-Cathbad world?
She gets up and reaches for her favourite dressing gown. At least she is now free to wear this garment, which she considered too unsexy to show Nelson. It’s very comforting though, towelling and threadbare. She puts on her slippers – equally ancient and not revealed to Nelson – and leaves the room, almost tripping over Flint who has positioned himself at the top of the stairs. Ruth goes into the kitchen to feed him and put on the kettle, in that order. The supply of gourmet cat food is running low. She will have to go shopping today.
Ruth takes her mug of tea into the sitting room. It’s another stunning sunrise, the marshes turning palest pink and then deepest gold. Dawn, she thinks. Dawn 1963. Had her sister been named after this daily phenomenon? She can hardly ask her mother, and, at this rate, she’ll never see Zoe again to ask her either. At six, she feels brave enough to text Judy. How are you? This seems neutral enough. She hopes that the message doesn’t wake Judy.
But Judy texts back in seconds, clearly awake too. OK. No more news. C still critical. Critical, thinks Ruth, but still alive. Thanks be to the goddess. Despite spending years attending church with her parents, she doesn’t know how to pray but she sends out a message to the wakening world, the waving grass, the swirling seabirds. Please save Cathbad.
Nelson, too, wakes early. His bed is bigger and more comfortable than Ruth’s, but he hasn’t slept well since he’s been home. He misses sharing a bed with Ruth, he misses seeing Katie at breakfast, he even misses the yowls of the demon cat on the landing. He reaches for his phone. Six thirty. He can hear the radio playing softly in Laura’s room. She doesn’t sleep well either. Not for the first time, he wishes that Bruno were there. His primal needs – food and walking – would stop him thinking about Cathbad. Can it really be the end? Surely Cathbad is indestructible.
Nelson gets up and puts on his dressing gown. It’s a Dad garment, bought by his daughters, with his initials on the pocket. Not something he would like Ruth to see. He puts on his slippers and pads downstairs. Once again, he imagines that he can hear Bruno beside him, panting gently, his tail battering Nelson’s legs. Black Shuck again? Or a message from Cathbad the shape-shifter? Nelson is making tea when he sees that he has a message from Ruth.
Heard from Judy. No change.