Read Dying Fall, A for Free Online Page B

love Blackpool. She could ride on the donkeys, go on the rides at the Pleasure Beach.’
    ‘Most of the Pleasure Beach rides look terrifying.’ Ruth had looked on the website last night.
    ‘Well, there must be a carousel or something,’ says Shona. ‘You ought to go. Dan might have discovered something big after all. It would be good for your career.’
    Her career. In recent years Ruth has wondered whether her career hasn’t, in fact, become a job. She still loves archaeology but she has never written a book or made her name in any way. She did discover the Iron Age girl and has certainly helped the police a few times, but students in years to come are hardly going to talk about the Ruth Galloway Theory or the Ruth Galloway Method. She is a jobbing forensic archaeologist, that’s all.
    ‘I might go,’ says Ruth. ‘Funny, I’ve travelled all over Europe but I’ve hardly ever been further north than the Midlands.’
    ‘Oh, it’s all different up north,’ says Shona. ‘I’ve got an aunt in Hartlepool, so I know.’
     
    Nelson, too, is on mother and baby duty. He had been surprised when Leah informed him that Judy was already back at home. ‘They only keep them in one night these days.’ Then, as he and Clough had driven back from investigating a reported shooting near Castle Rising (turned out to be an airgun being fired at pigeons), Clough remarked casually, ‘Judy lives near here, boss. Shall we pop in?’ So they had stopped at a petrol station and bought flowers and chocolates and were now, rather selfconsciously, examining the tiny object wrapped tightly in a yellow blanket.
    ‘Can I hold him?’ asks Clough. Nelson looks at him curiously. He’d heard rumours that Clough and Trace had been talking about starting a family, but now the relationship is over and Clough has custody of the couple’s dog, a rather demented labradoodle. Certainly Clough seems better with babies than is usual for an unmarried (straight) man.
    ‘Say hello to your Uncle Dave,’ says Clough, but the baby’s eyes remain resolutely shut. He is very dark with soft down over his forehead.
    ‘How are you?’ Nelson asks Judy. She looks exhausted, he thinks, her hair dark with grease and her eyes bloodshot. Darren, on the other hand, who is now preparing tea in the kitchen, seems manic with happiness.
    ‘Bit tired,’ says Judy. ‘It’s hard work, having a baby.’
    ‘So Michelle tells me.’
    ‘He’s beautiful,’ says Clough. ‘Have you got a name yet? What about David after his favourite uncle?’
    ‘Michael,’ says Darren, coming in with the tray. ‘We’ve decided on Michael.’
    ‘Why Michael?’ asks Clough. ‘After Michael Owen?’
    ‘No. I’m a Chelsea supporter. My granddad was called Michael and we just liked the name, didn’t we, love?’ Judy nods. To Nelson’s expert eye (he has three daughters, after all), she looks close to tears. He wishes they hadn’t come. It’s far too soon for visitors. Clough, slurping tea and scoffing cake, is oblivious to everything. Darren has now taken charge of the baby and is looking with wonder at the wizened little face.
    ‘He’s very dark,’ observes Clough. ‘You must be glad he isn’t ginger like you.’
    Nelson raises his eyes heavenward. Just when Clough is almost behaving like a civilised human being, he comes out with something like that. But Darren, who is undoubtedly red-haired, just laughs. Today, nothing can offend him.
    ‘Oh, he’s got Judy’s looks. And Judy’s brains too, I hope.’
    ‘He’s a grand little chap,’ says Nelson.
    ‘Do you want a hold?’ asks Darren.
    ‘You’re all right,’ Nelson begins, but the proud father has placed his son in Nelson’s arms. On cue, Michael’s eyelids flutter and he looks at Nelson out of big, dark eyes that are somehow oddly familiar.
     
    As Ruth and Kate approach their house, they see a dilapidated car parked in front of it.
    ‘Cathbad!’ shouts Kate in delight.
    She can hardly wait until Ruth