The House At Sea’s End

‘The sort of thing someone who liked crosswords would enjoy?’

‘I suppose so.’

Because Nelson had identified the thought that was nagging at him. Archie’s newspaper, folded back at his day’s viewing. Countdown, Coronation Street, Panorama, an afternoon film matinee of Went the Day Well?

When Clough has gone, he googles Went the Day Well?

‘Chilling classic,’ he reads, ‘imagining the brutal Nazi invasion of a sleepy English village.’

CHAPTER 14

‘We gather today to bless a child.

A new life that has become part of our world.

We gather today to name this child.

To call a thing by name is to give it power,

and so today we shall give this child a gift.

We will welcome her into our hearts and lives

and bless her with a name of her own.’

Cathbad is in full swing. He made a bonfire in the back garden and placed a trestle table in front of it. He then put a goblet of wine and a bowl of olive oil on the table and has invited the guests to form a ring around the fire.

Ruth, carrying Kate in her blue snow suit, follows him rather reluctantly. She had been surprised to see how many people turned up for the naming day party. Tatjana, of course, was already in residence and was quickly chatting to Phil about Arlington Springs Woman. As well as Phil there was Shona, Cathbad’s friend Freya from the modern languages department, Trace and Clough, Ted, Judy and, surprisingly, Dieter Eckhart and Clara Hastings.

‘I met Cathbad at the university,’ explained Dieter. ‘He invited me. I hope you don’t mind.’

‘Why should I mind?’ said Ruth, rather sulkily. Cathbad can hardly know Dieter, who is doing some research in the history department, very well. Ruth suspects him of extending the invitation to annoy Phil, who might be jealous of Dieter’s academic reputation (and his good looks). What is more surprising is how close Dieter and Clara seem, armin-arm, laughing warmly over shared jokes, speaking in German together. He has only been here a few days after all.

‘Clara’s been a great help to me,’ Dieter explained. ‘Telling me many stories of local history.’ He gave Ruth a rather meaningful look.

Clara laughed. ‘And I’ve been practising my German. I spent a year in Germany before going to uni but I’m awfully rusty. I wish I’d worked harder at school now.’

‘I bet you were the model pupil,’ said Dieter with a smouldering look.

‘Oh, I was useless,’ said Clara carelessly. ‘I was expelled from two schools.’

Well, Dieter was certainly making every effort to help Clara catch up, retiring with her into a corner of Ruth’s sitting room and managing, with clever body language, to block out the rest of the company altogether.

To her surprise, Ruth found that she was enjoying the party. It’s been a long time since she had so many people in her house and, since Cathbad and Freya provided the food and drink, it’s hardly a strain on her as hostess, though she had trouble finding enough plates and glasses (Clough is drinking from a Winnie the Pooh mug and Phil is eating from one of Kate’s moulded plastic bowls). Ruth was just settling down to a good chat with Judy when there was a thunderous knock at the door.

‘That’ll be the boss,’ said Clough. ‘Trying to force entry.’

Oh please God, no.

But Clough was right. Standing framed in the doorway were Nelson, unsmiling in jeans and a leather jacket, and Michelle, carrying a huge, beribboned parcel.

‘I know we weren’t supposed to bring presents,’ said Michelle. ‘But I think this’ll be useful.’

Ruth accepted the present with thanks, her heart sinking. Despite Cathbad’s directive, Kate was actually doing quite well for gifts but the Nelson offering dwarfed the rest.

‘Do open it, Ruth,’ said Michelle, accepting a glass of punch from a suddenly attentive Cathbad. Where the hell had he found a clean glass?

Ruth hates opening presents with other people watching (memories of grisly Christmas mornings pretending to be grateful for a Bible) but there was no refusing without looking churlish. Gingerly, she tore the pink flowered paper.

‘Wow! It’s a… it’s wonderful… what is it?’

It was a pink gingham chair attached to a wide base on wheels. The chair had a tray in front bristling with things to touch and press and crinkle. It looked faintly alarming, like a power base for a pink-checked alien. Ruth had a sudden flashback to Doctor Who and the Daleks. Exterminate, exterminate.

‘It’s a baby walker,’ laughed Michelle. ‘You put her in the chair and she can walk around. Well, she won’t be able to do it yet, but in a few months she’ll be whizzing about.’

Ruth found the idea of Kate on wheels rather frightening. At least, like the Daleks, she won’t be able to go upstairs.

‘Wow. It’s fantastic. Thanks.’

‘Where’s Kate? I haven’t seen her for ages.’