Humpty's Bones, Page 3

  ‘Have you put the chap back together again, yet?’ boomed Curtis.

  Heather flinched. She shot him a glare that clearly said, Don’t you dare interrupt me like that! With Eden being there, Heather managed a polite. ‘Oh, you’ve come to see if I’ve made any progress? Eden, welcome to the lab, by the way.’

  ‘Lab?’ Curtis chuckled. ‘This is where they used to do the laundry way back when. So? Humpty Dumpty here... a Roman Legionnaire stabbed in the vitals, or a Vestal Virgin done horribly to death for being a tease?’

  ‘Ooh, wine. Lovely, thank you.’ Heather took the glass, her fingers still coated in good Yorkshire earth. ‘And at least it’s not too dry.’

  ‘White wine can never be too dry.’ As he sipped his he pulled a face that suggested he thought the wine mediocre. ‘Please note, Eden, your aunt isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. I tell her that stuff sticking to her fingers... if what she’s digging up is a stable... is two thousand year old poop.’

  ‘Hardly a stable. The dimensions are too small.’

  ‘A lavatory then. With contents thereof in situ.’

  ‘And these bones. There is definite charring.’

  Heather offered a thighbone for her husband to examine more closely. He responded with a terse, ‘I’ll stay with the vin blanc, thank you.’ Then: ‘Eden was telling me about the fire damage to her apartment. Terrible state of affairs, isn’t it?’

  Again Eden felt as if she had to reassure them that her visit wouldn’t be a long one. ‘And thanks again, Heather for inviting me to stay. I’ve told Curtis that I’m more than willing to help out around the house; I won’t get under your feet.’

  Heather gulped her wine. ‘A boy, wasn’t it? Didn’t he do it deliberately?’

  Eden tightened her grip on the glass. ‘I invited a friend home.’

  ‘But it turned out he didn’t give you his real name, did he?’ Heather’s gaze became uncomfortably penetrating as she regarded Eden.

  ‘That’s right. For whatever reason he didn’t want to... ’ Simply voicing the events that led to the destruction of half her home weren’t only painful, but they made her feel so foolish.

  Curtis uhmed. ‘And you’d only met him the once, I understand?’

  ‘Yes. I feel such an idiot.’

  Heather turned back to her bones. ‘You’re a very trusting person. Your mother’s like that. The trouble is that people aren’t always nice.’

  Curtis took the empty glass from Heather as she picked up a jaw bone; it still had brown canines embedded in the sockets. Almost as if he couldn’t stop himself, he added, ‘The police think it was arson, don’t they?’

  Heather murmured, ‘You can’t be too careful who you let into your home these days.’

  ‘Drug addict, was he? Or insane? Did he look right to you when you met him in the pub?’

  Eden’s face burned. ‘He looked perfectly normal. There was nothing odd about him.’

  ‘Outwardly, maybe. But, with hindsight, you must remember some strange quirk about his behaviour?’

  Eden’s hand shook enough for a drop of wine to spring over the rim to fall onto the bones laid on the table.

  ‘Careful!’ Heather used a tissue to dab wine from a rib bone.

  Curtis laughed. ‘Did he spend the evening fiddling with a cigarette lighter?’

  ‘Look, I’d had a drink, I was lonely - ’

  ‘Eden, there goes more wine. Stand back from the table - please.’

  Curtis still laughed. ‘But a dirty, great keg of diesel would have been a dead give away. I wonder what turns people into arsonists?’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Eden’s eyes pricked. ‘I don’t want to talk about it. People could have died that night. My neighbours have children - ’

  ‘Uh, there it goes again.’ The phone in the passageway began to ring. ‘Excuse me.’ Curtis vanished back through the door. A second later Eden heard his brisk voice dealing with what appeared to be more problems. ‘You’ve tackled Klein, I hope? He gets no more studio time unless he pays at least half upfront... what’s that? If it’s not Klein, what is it then? The heating? What do you expect me to do about it this time of night? No, don’t call out the engineer. We can’t afford to run up more bills. The studio’s supposed to generate income for us. At this rate we’ll be pouring more cash in than we’re getting out. Damn it, Wayne. Look at the thermostat. Somebody’s probably just dicked around with the thing. Turn it down; don’t expect me to hold your hand while you do it.’

  As Curtis fought his battles by phone Heather murmured, ‘Tibia, ribs, though not quite a full set. Vertebrae. Shins. Part of a pelvis. Do you know what we’ve got here?’

  ‘What?’ Eden had been so wound up by this couple’s insensitivity that she’d not been listening. If anything, she found herself thinking about her apartment. The stench of smoke that clung to everything. The heat in the kitchen had melted the windows so they hung down the wall like surreal icicles. The mess, the bloody awful, stinking mess.

  ‘Eden, do you know what we’ve got here?’

  ‘I don’t care.’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘I’m sorry that my mother asked you to put me up. It’s not working out. In the morning I’ll - ’

  ‘Oh, don’t let Curtis bother you. It’s just his way. Ever since he set up this studio he’s been like an old dog with a sore backside. Growl, growl, growl... I don’t even listen to what he says half the time. Water off a duck’s back. Now, see this ankle joint. Hardly any wear.’

  Eden stared in disbelief. How can anyone take part in what had been a bullying interrogation, then switch subjects like nothing had happened?

  Heather pressed on, clearly fascinated by the skeleton. Eden could smell the wet soil. It added to the oppressive air of the house. She longed to go out into the fields and walk and walk until sheer exhaustion released the emotional pressure she felt building inside of her. Heather purred her observations as she lovingly touched each bone in turn. ‘No sign of disease, or wear, certainly no arthritis in the big ball joints of the hips. We’re looking at the skeleton of a youth, I’m sure of it. Late teens at the most. From the lightness of the bones I’d say he was slightly built. Almost willowy you could say. Eden? We’ve been thugs, haven’t we? You come here as our guest and we’ve talked about that fire like it was nothing more than broken plate. You must have been devastated, poor thing.’

  ‘It’s not fair!’

  ‘Of course, it isn’t. The boy who started the fire must have been psychotic.’

  ‘No, I meant - ’

  ‘Wait here. Time for more medicine.’

  ‘No, I meant you’ve not been fair.’ But Heather had already vanished through the low doorway and so didn’t hear. Meanwhile, in the passage, Curtis loudly reminded the luckless Wayne that all studio bookings required a deposit.

  ‘Poor Wayne,’ Eden breathed. ‘Poor me.’

  For some reason, Heather was delayed long enough for Eden’s temper to cool. By the time Heather returned with two more bottles of wine, Eden had begun to take an interest in the trays of coins. One about the size of her thumbnail revealed a human figure through the corrosion.

  ‘That’s one of the better preserved ones.’ Heather filled Eden’s glass. ‘Medicine. Drink up.’

  ‘I can make out a man; although it’s faint. Almost a ghost.’

  ‘If he’s wearing clothes it will be an emperor, if he’s nude it will probably be a god. Roman gods loved to disrobe.’

  ‘It’s impossible to tell. It’s so worn.’

  ‘It’ll have gone through a lot of Romano-British hands, no doubt buying flagons of ale. The money might have even belonged to Humpty here.’

  ‘Humpty?’ For the first time in a while Eden smiled.

  ‘We have to call this mess of bones something. Humpty Dumpt
y makes sense. At least until I’ve put him back together again.’ She perused the bones. ‘But I’m missing a skull. I have almost a complete human skeleton, but no skull.’

  ‘Only the coins can’t be his.’

  ‘Hmm?’ Thoughtful, Heather laid neck vertebrae in a line extending from the collar bone.

  ‘The coins. I mean they can’t all be his, can they?’

  ‘What makes you think that?’

  ‘Humpty’s bones were found beneath the coins. You said some are twentieth century.’

  ‘Of course, you’re right. Yes, absolutely - some date from the 1990s.’

  ‘So, why have generations of people dropped coins into that exact spot at the bottom of your garden?’

  Heather scratched her nose with a dirt crusted finger. ‘There was a circular depression there; something like a bomb crater, but only about so big.’ She held out her hands to indicate a yard across. ‘It did look peculiar, though. It was quite deep. At the time I thought that it might be where a tree had been taken out and the root had pulled out a big chunk of soil. At the bottom of the crater was a hole. I assumed a rabbit had dug it.’

  ‘That’s where people had been dropping in coins through the centuries.’

  Heather pursed her lips as she thought about it. ‘I guess you’re right. Perhaps it was the equivalent of a wishing well. You know, toss in a penny and make a wish. So, Humpty.’ She addressed the skeleton. ‘You’ve been lying there while folk chucked money at you. Hardly resting in peace, is it?’

  ‘Or they were paying him?’

  ‘Come again?’

  Eden nodded at the bones that so much resembled dirty twigs. ‘Paying him. Making offerings of coins.’

  ‘Paying him to do what?’

  ‘Stay where he is. Not to harm them.’

  Heather stared for a moment, then gave sharp-sounding laugh. ‘That’s beautifully imagined, Eden.’

  ‘Don’t laugh. It’s possible.’

  ‘You mean for the last eighteen hundred years men, women and children have been creeping furtively up to the hole and dropping their hard cash into it before scurrying away again before a bony hand darts out to grab them by the ankle?’

  ‘I’m serious, it adds up.’

  ‘Now you’re pulling my leg, Eden. Here let me top you up. Is that the time? I must switch the oven on.’

  ‘I’ve beaten you to it.’ Curtis stooped to enter through the low door. ‘The pizzas are already in.’

  ‘Is Wayne coping at the studio?’

  ‘The bloody fool. He didn’t realise that all he needed to do was to turn down the thermostat to lower the heating. He’s had the Dutch band cooking in the control room as they’ve worked on a sound mix. If Wayne screws up one more time... ’ He helped himself to wine. ‘Stick with your work, Eden. It’s got to be less stressful than running a recording studio. Ah, your bony wee chap has got a neck now.’

  Eden said, ‘He’s also got a name - Humpty.’

  ‘Yes. Humpty Dumpty. What happened to his head?’

  ‘Ah, that’s the mystery,’ Heather sighed. ‘I’ve nearly a complete skeleton, as far as I can judge.’

  ‘Only no noodle bone?’

  Eden made a point of joining in (to ensure talk didn’t drift back to the arson), ‘No human skull, although Heather’s found a dog’s jawbone.’

  ‘And parts of the cranium along with an eye ridge.’

  ‘It doesn’t surprise me. They’re crazy about dogs round here. They even called the village Dog Lands. We’re in Dog Star House, and there’s all kinds of Dog Lanes, Hounds Heaths. Plus there’s a weird carving of a dog in the lintel above the church door. The whole place must be barking mad.’

  His wife tutted. ‘Wait until I’ve got more wine inside of me before you go cracking jokes like that.’ She took a hefty swallow. ‘Hmm. Before I forget: Eden has a theory about the coins.’

  ‘Why there are so many of them? And from different centuries. I must admit that’s a strange one.’

  ‘Eden thinks... ’ A little smile played on Heather’s lips. ‘People put money in the hole where the bones were to appease Humpty’s ghost.’

  ‘No, I didn’t say that.’ Eden flushed.

  ‘As near as. You thought they were offerings.’

  Curtis chuckled. ‘Did you hear that, Humpty?’ He crouched down to look at the bones at eye-level. ‘If you stay there like a good skeleton I’ll bring you a slice of pizza later. What do you say, old chum?’

  ‘Eden - ’ Heather began.

  But Eden had already left the room. They think I’m a fool, she thought angrily. They as good as tell me that I was stupid to bring home an arsonist for a one night stand. Now I’ve tried to show an interest in Heather’s bloody bones they’re making fun of me.

  In the gloomy passageway she mistook one door for the way back to the living room. She miscalculated the height of the entrance; a second later Eden smacked her forehead hard against the low lintel.

  4. Monday Night: 10.00

  ‘Eden, how’s the head now?’

  ‘Curtis! Just a minute. I’m getting changed.’

  ‘Sorry. I should have knocked.’

  Eden slipped a nightdress over herself. It was a short one so she picked up a towel from the bed. She folded it over her arm as if about to visit the bathroom. At least the way it hung down covered the bareness of her thighs.

  ‘My head’s fine. Come in, if you want.’

  ‘I’m here too, Eden.’ Her aunt stepped through the bedroom door with her husband remaining in the doorway.

  ‘Are you sure I can’t get you anything for your head? That was quite a bang, you know?’

  ‘An early night will be the best thing for me. It’s been a long day.’

  ‘I expect so.’ Curtis nodded. ‘You’re probably still in shock over that lunatic burning your kitchen. It can’t be any fun being made homeless.’

  ‘It isn’t.’ Oh no, Eden though. Here we go again. The third degree. Silly Eden Page falling for a fire-starter. ‘I still feel washed out.’

  ‘Surely the police checked for fingerprints and DNA evidence? They say - ’

  ‘Curtis,’ Heather interrupted. ‘Pour the wine. I’ll be down in a minute.’

  He gave a little shrug as if to say, Suit yourself. I was only being helpful. A moment later Eden heard the sound of his footsteps heading downstairs.

  ‘Eden. You will tell me if you need anything, won’t you? Remember, if you want a drink at any time help yourself. Or anything to eat. Don’t feel as if you have to ask. We’re going to look after you while you’re here. You can trust us. Okay?’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘There’s the television. The clock radio is on the washstand. Your bathroom is across the corridor. But for heaven’s sake remember to duck your bloody head.’ She smiled. ‘You know, this is my favourite room. It used to be mine when I was a girl. Do you remember when you stayed here? You used to sleep on the sofa in the room my mother called the snug.’

  ‘Things went bump in the night.’ Eden smiled, too. ‘I thought there were ghosts.’

  ‘Dodgy plumbing, more like. When I inherited... ooh, eighteen months ago... I had the whole lot ripped out. And those old iron baths, too, that used to freeze your backside in winter.’ Heather folded her arms as she casually walked across the room to the window. ‘All this is antique furniture. The bed’s over a hundred years old but it’s all very comfortable. Did your mother feel cheated, because she didn’t inherit a share in the house?’

  ‘Pardon?’

  ‘After all, we’re sisters. Same mother, if different father. Not that it matters of course. It doesn’t matter one little bit. But your grandmother wanted this house to come to me.’

  ‘Mother’s never complained.’

  ‘No,
she wouldn’t. Daisy - your mother - is a free spirit. Just like you.’ Heather studied Eden’s face. ‘Worldly possessions were never her priority. She was happy in a tent in Glastonbury, living on farm cider and copious love.’ Heather must have expected Eden to respond to that rather judgmental statement. When Eden said nothing, however, Heather continued briskly, ‘Even though the house was left solely to me I wasn’t comfortable about being singled out for preferential treatment by our mother.’

  ‘All Mum did say to me was that she wouldn’t contest the will.’

  ‘Even so... ’ She pulled aside the curtain. Outside was perfectly black. ‘See? We don’t even have streetlights here. Maybe there should be one at the bend in the road. Now that bend is rare. The Romans never permitted themselves bends in their roads if they could help it. When they built this road eighteen hundred years ago it ran straight as a laser for ten miles across country. It turns a sharp right at the house, then it turns left to pick up the straight line. That always bothered me.’

  ‘Maybe there was something built here?’

  ‘It would have to be important - very important. Roman highway engineers swept all before them - forests, houses, whole villages if necessary. For them the straight line was divinity itself. At least when it came to roads.’

  ‘Then whatever was built here, on the site of the house, must have mattered to them a lot.’ Eden suspected this sudden talk of the road had been to change the subject. But her aunt must have been nagged by the notion of unfinished business.

  ‘The Via Britannicus was one of the most important roads in Romano Britain.’ She nodded to her left. ‘That way, York.’ Then right. ‘That way... Rome. Heart of Empire. Favoured city of the gods.’ She let the curtain slip back to keep the night at bay. ‘I don’t know if your mother told you, but when I inherited this place I sent her a cheque. I didn’t have to.’