49

‘Of course, we still can't rule out contamination.' Steve was standing with Charles in the Cardiff laboratory. ‘And when we submit our report that must be the way we describe the anomalies that have come up again and again in the tests. They have been repeated three times now– that's why it has all taken so long– and the same inconsistencies have appeared each time.' He moved a little further down the table with its neatly laid out skeletal remains and shook his head. ‘Poor old -Marius.' They had given him the name when Charles had finally explained the somewhat spurious evidence as to the man's identity. ‘Some of the modern bones appear to have elements of the two age spans within the same sample.' He glanced up at Charles and raised an eyebrow. ‘It must have happened when the body was buried in 1939. The young couple dug down into an ancient burial pit and without realising it, pushed the victim down amongst all the other stuff, and somehow the newer bones assimilated some of the ancient DNA.' He grinned. ‘I would give my eye teeth to know what has really happened here. Someone has had a word with the local vicar, by the way, and she has agreed the bones should be reburied in the local churchyard. I expect you knew that. But we don't have to think about that yet. The law says we've got a couple of years before they need reburying. I expect you noticed we've been down to the meadow and filled in the grave for now. It was attracting too much attention. We're planning to lay on a full-scale excavation next year.'

‘So, the development plans are on hold? For now.'

Steve nodded. ‘Partly because of all this and the ongoing police interest in finding Ifan Davies, and partly because I gather there is some kind of confusion about the ownership of the property. I've had my suspicions that someone in the actual planning department has been deliberately trying to bypass the archaeology and wave this scheme through. It's not unknown, you know, for the odd hefty back-hander to speed things up a bit. It's not the sort of thing that happens round here, but we're dealing with a company we don't know. And didn't you tell me their manager let slip that arrangements had been made? Anyway, someone at the council has been doing some checking and they've discovered that the meadow is no longer an asset of the holding company that had originally applied for planning permission. It seems to have changed hands a couple of months ago and no one realised. My mate thinks it's probably some kind of tax fiddle. It's only a technicality, but when they consulted the Land Registry they found the land belongs to Mrs Susan Davies. That's John Davies' estranged wife. What?' He noticed Charles's expression. ‘You knew?'

‘No.' Charles shook his head. ‘I didn't know. But I do know Sue Davies.'

‘Very sweet.' Two hours later he was looking down at the tiny baby in the Moses basket in his sister's spare room.

‘Oh, Charles!' Margo laughed. ‘Can't you look a bit more enthusiastic? What is it with men and babies?'

Charles looked up helplessly. ‘I can't help it. What else is there to say?' He turned as Sue made her way into the room. She looked pale and tired, but very happy. ‘Congratulations! Have you got a name for her?' Surely that was the right thing to ask.

Sue nodded. ‘I'm calling her Victoria Louise.'

‘That's lovely.' He meant it. ‘Solid nineteenth-century names.'

He didn't say anything else until they were all seated round the table having tea. Victoria Louise was sleeping peacefully and even Charles could see Sue was exhausted. It was time for him to leave. ‘Can I ask you a couple of questions before I go?' He had thought very hard about what to say.

‘I can tell it's not about baby care.' Margo was refilling his cup. She pushed it back towards him.

He grinned. ‘No. The first is about a lady called Rachel Pritchard.'

‘The painter?' Sue nodded. ‘I remember Ifan talking about her. I think he wanted to arrange an exhibition of her work. He knew her back in the old days in Wales.'

‘Oh, he knew her all right.' Charles grimaced. ‘He didn't talk about buying her house, by any chance?'

She looked puzzled. ‘I don't think so.'

‘Never mind. I just needed to know he had her in his sights.'

Sue sighed. ‘Oh dear, that sounds ominous.'

‘Nothing to worry about.'

‘And the other question?'

‘It's about Camp Meadow.'

Both women looked puzzled. ‘That's where that poor man's bones were dug up?' Margo said, realising where she had heard the name before.

Charles nodded. ‘As you know, I'm a friend of Cadi Jones who lives next door to it. We've been closely involved in everything that's going on there. Too close sometimes.' He shook his head.

‘These are the excavations you were telling us about and the skeleton you've just been to see.' Margo pushed the plate of biscuits towards him.

‘I gather the council have recently discovered that you're actually the owner of the meadow, Sue.'

‘Me?' Sue looked astonished.

‘Ah. Didn't you know?'

She shook her head. ‘Are you sure? How is that possible?' There was a moment's silence then her face cleared. ‘I know what must have happened. A few months ago, before we separated, Ifan did tell me he was making me co-owner of some of his properties and he made me sign some papers. I didn't take much notice, to be honest. He said it was to give me security if anything ever happened to him, but I didn't believe him. I thought it was another of his nefarious plans, a way of putting them offshore or out of the taxman's reach. I wasn't as grateful as he thought I ought to be. We had a row about it. One of many. I wouldn't count on it being true. There's bound to be something fishy about it.'

Charles shook his head. ‘It is true. Your name is on the deeds.'

‘So, are you saying they should have asked my permission before digging up the field?'

‘I'm saying Ifan had no right to apply for planning permission to build houses on the field in the first place. And I'm guessing you could forbid them to go ahead with the application. And yes, I expect you could stop them excavating in the field, although I'm hoping you won't do that.' He was tingling with excitement.

‘And the council know about this.' Sue sat back in her chair with a heavy sigh.

‘Charles, let's leave this till another time,' Margo said softly. ‘You can see how tired Sue is.'

Charles stood up. ‘I'm sorry. That was thoughtless of me. But yes, they do know. It was Steve, the head of the dig, who told me.'

‘If it's true, I don't want it. I'll give it to the village. That nice man at the mill can arrange it all.' Sue stood up. She turned to the crib and scooped the baby into her arms. ‘That should make up a little for all the anguish Ifan has caused.'

Meryn had gone to stand outside Rachel's cottage, staring out at the view. He was very tired. He had driven the length and breadth of Wales in the last couple of days, but seeing Rachel here in her clifftop retreat and knowing he had been able to make it secure for her had made it all worthwhile. The money was safely in her account and he was going with her tomorrow to meet up with her landlord to start the paperwork to transfer the property into her name. It was a lovely cottage with a beautiful little garden and best of all a wonderful studio overlooking the sea. He sat down on the bench, which was angled carefully to look out over the glorious green blue of Cardigan Bay.

It was almost no surprise to sense he was not alone. He glanced up. Branwen was there, standing where he had been standing, staring out towards the horizon just as he had, her silver hair streaming behind her in the wind off the sea.

‘Greetings.' He whispered the word into the sound of the waves far below.

She gave no sign that she had heard him. He nodded comfortably. He was content just to be there watching the sun fall slowly into the ocean. He could see a distant wall of mist far out beyond the horizon. There was more rain on its way.

He heard Rachel behind him. She held out a glass. ‘Welsh whisky. Local brew. Supper's ready when you are.'

He turned back towards the sea. Branwen had gone.

There were voices outside the window. Struggling out of the blackness of a drugged sleep, Ifan opened his eyes to daylight. For a moment he couldn't think where he was. Then he remembered. Madelaine's house. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He was fully dressed. He must have lain down for a moment and dropped off. Putting his hand to his head, he groaned. Then he heard it again. Voices outside on the terrace. Men's voices. Shit! The police. He staggered to his feet and went over to the door, listening carefully. Silence. He crept over to the window and peered out. Two cops were heading across the lawn towards the summerhouse. The sound of their voices died away.

He stood on the landing for several seconds, peering down into the hall below. He could see the front door from there and it seemed to be closed. They weren't in the house. They must have rung the bell and decided there was no one inside. Perhaps that was what had awakened him. He ran down the stairs and into the kitchen. Grabbing a glass of water, he swallowed a couple of his painkillers and headed for the door. He paused. Looking back over his shoulder he scanned the room. There on the wall was a rack of knives. He snatched one and tucked it into his belt, then he headed on into the living room where a pair of French doors led out onto a patio bordered with -trellis hung with roses and honeysuckle. He groped for the hook behind the curtain where Madelaine hung the keys and -cautiously he unlocked the doors and pushed them open. He listened. There was no sound from the garden save the rustle of leaves in the wind. It took only a few seconds to step outside, relock the doors, throw the key into the flower bed and then he was running between the hedges towards the road. There was no sign of the police; presumably they had assumed the house was locked and empty and they were busy searching the-outbuildings.

He couldn't run far; his head was thudding and he felt sick. He ducked through a hedge and found himself in a copse. -Collapsing on the ground, he lay back, gasping for breath, his arm across his eyes, aware at once that the ground was soaking wet and cold after last night's rain. He glanced at his wristwatch. It was just after five. Morning or evening? For a moment he couldn't remember. He screwed up his eyes and did a double take. Had he really slept through most of the day? He should probably still bein hospital. The NHS had been all too swift to discharge him once the police had lost interest. He gave a cynical groan. This was a ludicrous situation, when his own father lived just up the road in his warm safe house. He felt a wave of rage sweep through him. His father, who had driven up to London and collected Sue and his unborn baby from hospital. Except, it wasn't his baby, was it. It was some other man's. He sat up. He had a lot of scores to settle here. His attempt to burn down Meryn Jones's house had failed. His own stupid fault. He thought he saw someone there watching him and he had panicked. He had obviously been hallucinating. His head had been splitting. He groaned again. Then there was his father, Cadi and her interfering relations, that stupid cow who lived next to her. And Sue.

He climbed painfully to his feet. Well, he was here now and he was free. All he had to do was get to his father's house unseen.

As he pushed his way out of the copse he realised it had started to rain again. Even the weather was against him in this godforsaken place.

The story wouldn't come. Cadi sat staring down at the page. Shehad been writing all afternoon, about Peblig finding the sword hidden up there on Bardsey Island, and Elen's -family and what had happened to her next and then between one word and the next the story had stopped. The pen was in her handbut it wasn't moving. Slowly she put it down and, pushing back her chair she stood up. Branwen. Why did her thoughts keep -coming back to Branwen? It was Elen she was interested in. What had become of her now her children were gone and she was to all intents and purposes alone– except for Peblig, of course, but surely the time had come for him to leave home too and go off somewhere to study for the church.

Perhaps Branwen knew where the story led next, or perhaps she was just too exhausted to write anymore.

Sally arrived just after six with Gemma on the lead at her heels. Outside it had started to rain and the two women sat by the veranda doors staring out into the garden as the light faded. Cadi sighed. ‘Charles promised he'd be back in time for supper,' she said at last. ‘I have to say I'll feel safer with him back here.' There was a long pause. ‘Stop it!' she had seen Sally's eyes twinkle.

‘I never said a word,' Sally retorted. ‘It will be interesting to hear what he has to say about your old bones. I don't know why they're so keen to date them. After all, there's no hurry now if they have postponed the dig.'

They didn't have long to wait. He pulled up in the car twenty minutes later, full of news.

Sally stayed on to have supper and it was some time after that and almost dark outside as they sat over a cup of tea when Gemma sat up and began to bark. They heard the gate crash open and there was a loud banging on the front door followed by a shout. ‘Cadi, let me in! For God's sake. Quickly.'

‘It's Arwel!' Cadi jumped to her feet.

‘Don't open it!' Sally cried, but Cadi already had her hand on the latch. She pulled the door open. ‘What is it? What's wrong?'

Arwel was standing on the doorstep, blood pouring from his nose. He threw himself into the room. ‘Close the door, quickly! He's after me! And shut that bloody dog up!' Gemma was barking furiously from the far side of the room.

Cadi slammed the door and rammed the bolt across. ‘Ring the police!' she shouted at Charles, but he was already on the phone. ‘Where is he?'

‘He broke in through my back door. I tried to stop him.' Arwel was groping frantically for a handkerchief. ‘He thought Susie was still staying with me. When he ran upstairs to find her, I bolted. The boy's insane!'

‘Did he see which way you went?' Cadi found a towel in the kitchen and handed it to him. ‘Lean forward and pinch your nose. It looks worse than it is.' That wasn't true. The man's face was black and blue.

‘They're on their way.' Charles was staring at him in horror. ‘You haven't told him where Sue went, I hope.'

‘Of course not!' Arwel snapped. ‘He said he phoned the -hospital in London and of course they told him that I'd come to -collect her. They wouldn't have seen any reason not to. Hecame straight here. He guessed she's had the baby and I -suppose I looked guilty or something and that confirmed it as far as hewas concerned. I didn't tell him where she was, I swear it.' He was near to tears.

They all heard the gate clang back a second time against the garden wall. Then Ifan was banging on the door, shouting. There was total silence in the room. Cadi tiptoed towards the front window and stood there checking the blind was fully down. Sally had picked up Gemma, trying to quiet her as Cadi walked over to the back windows and then the garden door and checked the curtains. The banging on the door stopped.

They were all listening, holding their breath. Arwel moved quietly across the room and sat down at the table. He was visibly trembling. For a moment all was silent then there was a massive crash as the glass in the French doors shattered. The curtains billowed as Ifan stepped through the shards of glass and splintered wooden battens scattered all over the floor and stood staring from one to the other. He was drenched with rain. There was a large spanner in his hand. ‘Where is she?' His voice was hoarse.

‘She's not here, boy.' Arwel stood up shakily. His face was still smeared with blood. ‘She's miles away. Go now. -Quickly. The police are on their way and this time they won't let yougo.'

‘So I've nothing to lose.' Ifan's eyes were flicking round the room, his face was scratched and bruised, his clothes were torn and he was sweating profusely. ‘I'm going to kill that dog if it doesn't shut up!' he added. He was shaking violently. He stepped towards Sally and raised the spanner.

‘No!' she screamed.

It was Arwel who stepped in. ‘Don't be stupid, Ifan. Don't you touch anyone here, d'you hear me? What's the matter with you? Don't you want to ever see your baby? Do you think they will let you near it if you hurt anyone else?'

‘They won't anyway. That lying cow will tell them I hit her. Besides, it's not my baby.'

‘If you're talking about your wife, Ifan, she has refused to testify against you,' Cadi put in. ‘I think she still loves you, against all the odds.' She clenched her fists.

‘Then why did she run away?'

‘Because she's afraid of you.'

He was silent for a second or two, then he smiled. ‘Are you afraid of me?' he said at last. His voice was low and somehow very menacing.

‘No.' She could see his knuckles whitening as his fingers tightened on the spanner.

‘Mistake,' he said. It was almost a whisper. ‘Big mistake.'

‘Cut it out, boy.' Arwel straightened his shoulders. ‘Enough.'

‘And what are you going to do, old man?' Ifan glared at his father with something approaching hatred in his eyes. Abruptly he shifted his glance towards Charles. He raised the spanner.

‘I saw your baby today,' Charles put in calmly. The words stopped Ifan in his tracks. ‘For what it's worth, she looks like you, poor little soul. And Sue promised me that you're the child's father. But that's of little consequence now. The police will be here any minute and they will remove you.' He glanced across at the kitchen window where a light had appeared behind the blind as a car drew up outside. ‘In fact they're here now.'

Ifan followed his gaze and let out a vicious curse. He turned and ran back towards the broken glass doors. By the time the two policemen had entered the room he had disappeared into the dark.