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Check that she’s got enough sun protection cream, Calpol and mosquito repellent. Oh, and plasters. What else does the conscientious mother need? Antiseptic cream? Nit comb? Gin?
He knows that he should send Judy or Tanya. A DCI has no business rushing around looking at bodies that could turn out to be from the Stone Age or suchlike (despite knowing Ruth for almost eight years, Nelson remains vague on prehistory).
They leave the motorway and drive through an industrial area. Ruth thinks that she’s never seen a grimmer place: litter on the verges, empty buildings, abandoned cars. By the side of the road stand several young women in short skirts and high heels, their attempts at glamour all the more tragic because of the squalid setting. ‘What are those ladies selling?’ asks Kate. ‘Fruit,’ says Ruth, not wanting to introduce her daughter to the concept of women being forced to sell their bodies.
‘I was scared to face you,’ says Micky. ‘That’s why I’m glad God sent you here today.’ This, Nelson remembers, is what he has always disliked about evangelicals. The way they talk about God as if he’s God Smith who lives next door. At least Catholics have a bit of awe and respect.
Michelle is in the sitting room. She is watching one of those programmes where people buy rubbish at car boot sales and then seem surprised that it isn’t worth anything.
‘What would you like, Ruth? Tea?’ ‘Coffee, please,’ says Ruth. She doesn’t want to seem like the sort of English person who has to be given tea wherever they go.
Nelson approves of the pub. It has good beer and a menu traditional enough to promise that food will be delivered on plates and not on wooden planks.
‘I didn’t do much,’ says Ruth. ‘Just a few observations on the bones.’ ‘But the presence of a foreign expert made all the difference,’ says Angelo. ‘Daniella loved you on camera.’ ‘She did?’ This seems unlikely. ‘Yes, you were so natural and unaffected.’ People said this about Ruth’s previous TV appearances too. She knows it’s meant to be a compliment, but she always thinks that ‘natural’ is a synonym for ‘overweight and sweaty’.
‘Grandma said I was a sunbeam once,’ said Kate, who was trying to stand on her head. ‘There you are then,’ said Ruth, ‘we’ll remember her whenever we see a sunbeam.’ Which is not that often, to be honest, in Norfolk.
