faint if she gets up too quickly but today she seems miraculously well. Maybe it's the famous second trimester, where, according to the books, you look 'blooming' and have tremendous energy and a renewed sex drive. Sounds fun, thinks Ruth as she follows Ted through the maze of walls and trenches. Something to look forward to at any rate.
At the back of the house some outhouses still remain, their doors hanging crazily, windows smashed. There is also the remains of a conservatory, a skeletal wood frame that still retains a few unbroken panes. As Ruth passes, a workman is systematically smashing the glass. One window obviously contained stained glass, red and blue and yellow. The shards scatter at Ruth's feet like a rainbow.
She follows Ted past the outhouses and into the grounds. Here the new buildings are going up quickly; neat squares of brick and plasterboard. She steps over a cucumber frame, the glass smashed to powder, and passes a tree with a frayed rope hanging from one of its branches. A swing? Broken flagstones form a rudimentary path through the mud. The noise of the cement mixers is deafening.
As directed by Ruth, Ted has dug new trenches along the boundaries of the site, next to the high flint wall. In one of these, Trace is standing, wearing a pink T-shirt emblazoned with the words 'Killer Barbie'.
Ruth looks into the trench. A tiny skeleton lies exposed about a metre below the topsoil. Only this time it is definitely not human.
'What is it?' shouts Ruth, above the noise of the machinery.
'A cat, I think,' says Ted.
'Pet cemetery?'
'Maybe, though I haven't seen any others.'
They haven't found any human bodies either which, given that this was supposed to be a churchyard, is surprising. Disappointing, the county archaeologist would say. Maybe the site was cleared by the Victorians. It wouldn't be the first archaeological site they had ruined. Ruth looks at the bones protruding from the mud. From the shape of the tail, she is pretty sure that it is feline.
'Family pet?' she suggests, thinking of Flint.
'Yes...' Ted looks at her sideways. 'Except...'
'What?'
'It's headless.'
'What?'
'There's no head. Trace and I are both sure.'
Ruth looks again at the bones. She can see the vertebrae and the tail wrapped neatly around the feet but ... no head.
'Log it,' she says. 'I'll take the bones back to the lab.'
'Wonder what we'll find next?' says Ted cheerily. 'The Headless Horseman?'
Ted's good humour, thinks Ruth, as she trudges back to her trench, is starting to get her down.
In the afternoon, Clough puts in an appearance. 'The boss has gone down to Sussex to interview some priest who used to run this place,' he explains.
'Pin it on the pervert priest,' says Ted, taking a swig from his flask, 'good idea.'
Ruth feels rather embarrassed that she and the others have been caught on their tea break but Clough joins them readily enough, accepting a Jammy Dodger from Trace and a mug of coffee from Ruth. They are sitting on a low internal wall, still covered with wallpaper, dark red with a faint black pattern.
'Boss turns out to be a left-footer,' says Clough. 'Did you know that?' he turns to Ruth.
'A left...? Oh, a Catholic. No. Why should I?' She doesn't want Clough to think she knows Nelson all that well.
'We've found some other people who worked here. Ordinary people, not priests or nuns. Even tracked down some of the residents. It's going to be a hard job taking all the statements.'
'Won't you get overtime?' asks Ruth drily.
'Oh yes,' Clough grins, 'thank God for overtime. Anyway, you find out any more about the skeleton?'
'No,' says Ruth patiently. 'As I explained yesterday, I need to examine it thoroughly in context before we can take the bones away.'
'How long will that take?'
'I'm hoping to finish tomorrow. I've got to bag and record all the bones and take soil samples.'
'That long? Just for a few bones?'
'There are two hundred and six bones in the human body,' says Ruth tartly, 'and about
At the back of the house some outhouses still remain, their doors hanging crazily, windows smashed. There is also the remains of a conservatory, a skeletal wood frame that still retains a few unbroken panes. As Ruth passes, a workman is systematically smashing the glass. One window obviously contained stained glass, red and blue and yellow. The shards scatter at Ruth's feet like a rainbow.
She follows Ted past the outhouses and into the grounds. Here the new buildings are going up quickly; neat squares of brick and plasterboard. She steps over a cucumber frame, the glass smashed to powder, and passes a tree with a frayed rope hanging from one of its branches. A swing? Broken flagstones form a rudimentary path through the mud. The noise of the cement mixers is deafening.
As directed by Ruth, Ted has dug new trenches along the boundaries of the site, next to the high flint wall. In one of these, Trace is standing, wearing a pink T-shirt emblazoned with the words 'Killer Barbie'.
Ruth looks into the trench. A tiny skeleton lies exposed about a metre below the topsoil. Only this time it is definitely not human.
'What is it?' shouts Ruth, above the noise of the machinery.
'A cat, I think,' says Ted.
'Pet cemetery?'
'Maybe, though I haven't seen any others.'
They haven't found any human bodies either which, given that this was supposed to be a churchyard, is surprising. Disappointing, the county archaeologist would say. Maybe the site was cleared by the Victorians. It wouldn't be the first archaeological site they had ruined. Ruth looks at the bones protruding from the mud. From the shape of the tail, she is pretty sure that it is feline.
'Family pet?' she suggests, thinking of Flint.
'Yes...' Ted looks at her sideways. 'Except...'
'What?'
'It's headless.'
'What?'
'There's no head. Trace and I are both sure.'
Ruth looks again at the bones. She can see the vertebrae and the tail wrapped neatly around the feet but ... no head.
'Log it,' she says. 'I'll take the bones back to the lab.'
'Wonder what we'll find next?' says Ted cheerily. 'The Headless Horseman?'
Ted's good humour, thinks Ruth, as she trudges back to her trench, is starting to get her down.
In the afternoon, Clough puts in an appearance. 'The boss has gone down to Sussex to interview some priest who used to run this place,' he explains.
'Pin it on the pervert priest,' says Ted, taking a swig from his flask, 'good idea.'
Ruth feels rather embarrassed that she and the others have been caught on their tea break but Clough joins them readily enough, accepting a Jammy Dodger from Trace and a mug of coffee from Ruth. They are sitting on a low internal wall, still covered with wallpaper, dark red with a faint black pattern.
'Boss turns out to be a left-footer,' says Clough. 'Did you know that?' he turns to Ruth.
'A left...? Oh, a Catholic. No. Why should I?' She doesn't want Clough to think she knows Nelson all that well.
'We've found some other people who worked here. Ordinary people, not priests or nuns. Even tracked down some of the residents. It's going to be a hard job taking all the statements.'
'Won't you get overtime?' asks Ruth drily.
'Oh yes,' Clough grins, 'thank God for overtime. Anyway, you find out any more about the skeleton?'
'No,' says Ruth patiently. 'As I explained yesterday, I need to examine it thoroughly in context before we can take the bones away.'
'How long will that take?'
'I'm hoping to finish tomorrow. I've got to bag and record all the bones and take soil samples.'
'That long? Just for a few bones?'
'There are two hundred and six bones in the human body,' says Ruth tartly, 'and about
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