The Ghost Fields by Elly Griffiths

crumbling ruin but he had kept his counsel. Wisely, as it turns out. ‘We hope you’ll be able to come, Detective Chief Inspector,’ Sally had said. ‘And your charming archaeologist friend. Ruth, wasn’t it?’
    He contemplates mentioning the party now to watch Whitcliffe angle for an invitation, but that pleasure will have to wait.
    â€˜I’m planning an excavation at Blackstock Hall next week,’ he says. ‘Do you think your TV friends will want to film it?’
    â€˜I wouldn’t think so,’ says Whitcliffe. ‘Excavations are always so muddy, aren’t they?’
    Â 
    By the time that Earl has outlined his plans for the programme he now definitely calls ‘The Ghost Fields’ Ruth feels that she has lost the will to live. It’s not that Earl’s synopsis is bad; she can imagine that people would be interested in the story of Nell Blackstock’s homecoming, her reunion with her British family and her voyage of discovery into her father’s war years. ‘Lots of shots of the empty airfields,’ enthuses Earl, ‘the wind blowing and maybe some ghostly effects, planes taking off on deserted runways, that sort of thing.’ It’s more that Ruth can’t quite see where she comes in. Earl doesn’t seem remotely interested in how Fred’s body came to be in the wrong plane or in Ruth’s explanations about chalk versus clay burials. He is vaguely interested in the forensic analysis but only in so far as it proves that the dead man was a member of the Blackstock family. ‘Genuine Britisharistocrats,’ says Earl happily. ‘Pity they haven’t got a title though.’
    What does Frank think about it all? It’s hard to tell, even though Ruth keeps sneaking glances at him. He listens politely to Earl’s story outlines, occasionally offering a word or two of historical context. Sometimes Ruth thinks that he’s smiling to himself rather sardonically and once he looks directly at her and grins, a ‘can you believe this bunch?’ grin, but then his face is blank once more and he nods solemnly as Earl tells him that he wants to create a ‘real Battle of Britain vibe’.
    Where is Frank staying? Ruth knows that he has a flat in Cambridge, where he once studied, but she thinks he mentioned that it was let out to tenants. Maybe he’s staying in Norwich, or even King’s Lynn? She hopes that they will get a chance to talk after this interminable meeting. Maybe they can go and have a cup of tea somewhere, or even an early lunch. She remembers the first time she met Frank—after he crashed his car into hers—having lunch at a lopsided pub in the centre of Norwich, feeling as if they had known each other for ever. She realises that Frank is standing up.
    â€˜So sorry,’ he says to the room at large, ‘but I’ve got an appointment. I’ll catch up with you all later.’
    He walks round the table and stops by Ruth’s chair. ‘Good to see you again, Ruth,’ he says softly.
    Ruth doesn’t know what she replies. Inside she is screaming, ‘Where are you going?’ She had been so sure that, after the formal meeting was over, she and Frank couldgo somewhere and . . . well, take up where they left off two years ago.
    Earl too is looking after Frank with a slightly disgruntled expression.
    â€˜Where’s he off to in such a hurry?’ he says.
    â€˜Who knows with Frank?’ They are almost the first words Ruth has heard Paul say. He has an accent that she recognises from films as old-school New York.
    â€˜Of course,’ says Earl. ‘You know him pretty well.’
    â€˜Should do,’ says Paul. ‘Seeing as he’s dating my kid sister.’

9
    Ruth drives away feeling angry with Frank, Earl, Paul, Paul’s kid sister and, most of all, herself. How could she have assumed that he was still interested in her? After all, she