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body over the sands, knowing that she has failed. She is looking at Scarlet asleep in her bed but then Scarlet has turned into Kate and Ruth wakes up, mouth open in a silent scream.
    She looks at her alarm clock. Six o’clock. Thank God, she doesn’t have to go back to sleep. She lies in bed, listening to the seagulls and thinking about her dream. Does she still feel guilty about Scarlet in some way? Or is it just the Liz Henderson case and the disturbing link to Delilah, that Liz babysat for the family? Or maybe it’s the body in the trench and the look of unholy glee on Mark’s facewhen he talked about ‘Women Who Kill’.
Don’t cry little darling. Don’t cry little dear
.
    Ruth shifts in her bed. Her backside feels a bit sore after the headbutt. Bloody Ranger. She’ll cancel that standing order today. She knows she won’t though. Kate counts on getting a birthday card from her pony. ‘Why the big horse? Big horse it’s your birthday …’
    Ruth switches on the radio. The Today Programme fills the room, those lovely soothing morning voices. Weather updates, racing tips, Thought for the Day, the Dow Jones, John Humphrys interrupting. Ruth feels herself relaxing. Surely nothing can be wrong with the world if the Today Programme is on? Isn’t that meant to be one of the signs of a nuclear bomb attack, if the Today Programme goes off air? Well, humanity seems safe today. She’ll get up when Thought for the Day comes on. There’s only so much metaphysical musing she can take in the morning.
    By the radio, next to the baby monitor and Ruth’s battered wrist watch, is the medallion. Ruth picks it up and turns it over in her hand. Did it belong to Mother Hook? The silvery metal glints in the light. She traces the outline of the two heads. Does it show the Madonna and Child or some other image? She doesn’t know if Jemima Green had any religious affiliation. She sighs. She has a feeling that she will soon know more about Mother Hook than she has ever wanted to know. Phil reports that Mark is ‘really keen’ on including them in his programme. ‘He wants to feature you, Ruth,’ said Phil, sounding surprised. ‘He says you’re a natural.’
    Didn’t natural once mean simple, thinks Ruth, getting out of bed and feeling for her slippers. She can just imagine herself looking simple on television, her great moon face peering into the camera (isn’t TV meant to put on a stone?), stumbling over her words and her feet, her uninspiring appearance picked over by a million twittering experts. ‘Make-over needed for TV’s Ruth.’ ‘How to avoid Ruth Galloway’s Wardrobe Disasters.’ Surely Phil with his slick charm would be a better choice? Or even Ted who, she is sure, would quickly acquire a cult following. What if she’s a complete failure or, worse still, a success? Her friends would think it highly amusing and her mother would be horrified to see her daughter involved with such an ungodly programme. Ruth allows herself a quick grin. It’s not all bad then.
    Ruth pads across the landing. Kate is still asleep. She might even be able to have a bath (luxury) rather than just a quick shower, but as soon as she starts to run the water an imperious voice from the other room calls ‘Mum.’
    ‘Coming Kate.’ Ruth may be the face of
Women Who Kill
but Kate will always be the star turn in this house.
    *
    ‘Are you sure?’
    ‘I’d bet my bollocks on it.’
    Nelson sighs. He is speaking to Chris Stephenson, the police pathologist, and, whenever you talk to Chris, his bollocks are sure to come into it somehow.
    ‘I’m on my way to the station,’ he says, pulling out into traffic with the minimum of care. ‘I’ll meet you there.’
    ‘OK, Chief.’
    As he weaves through the morning traffic, Nelson wonders why it irritates him when Chris Stephenson calls him ‘Chief’ but he doesn’t mind his team calling him ‘Boss’ or ‘Guv’ … Maybe it’s because he knows that the pathologist doesn’t see him