None but the Dead Read Free Page A

expression suggesting he had no wish to view again what lay beneath that cover.
    Erling indicated that Derek should free the corner nearest the door and together they set about folding back the tarpaulin. A gust of wind intervened as they lifted it, whipping it like a sail.
A swift move on Derek’s part saw it caught and secured behind the mound.
    And there it was. The reason for Erling’s visit.
    The skull sat atop the loose earth, the empty eye sockets directed towards them. Erling heard an intake of breath as, behind them, Mike Jones revisited that image. It wasn’t the first
skull Erling had seen dug up, but the impact was always the same.
    He recognized it as human, but was completely unable to picture the owner of the bony structure. From a skull it was impossible to tell if someone’s nose turned up, or if they had tiny
delicate ears, or dinner plates sticking out on either side. The area around the eyes was likewise lacking in bony structures, so that feature, the most expressive and individual of a real face,
had to be estimated. Something only those artists who would aim to put a face on the skull staring at him now could imagine.
    It wasn’t large, nor was it very small.
    Beside it lay a bone, which at a guess might have been a shin bone, or maybe an upper arm. Erling wasn’t familiar enough with the human skeleton to say which.
    He took a step closer. As he did so, the topsoil shifted a little, sending a small shower of stones into the hole. Erling followed their path down and something caught his eye. Poking out from
the soil was a shape that just might be part of a ribcage.
    Derek had joined him.
    ‘How long do you think it’s been here?’ Erling asked him.
    ‘You’ll have to get in a real expert to tell you that,’ he said honestly.
    Mike was standing at the door. The wind, chill now, seemed to meet his tall thin body with force. It was better not to be too tall on these islands. Those closer to the earth were less troubled
by the wind.
    Erling used his mobile to take a photograph, then pulled over the tarpaulin and secured it, adding another couple of stones.
    They re-entered the house in silence.
    ‘What will happen?’ Mike said, once he’d shut the door.
    ‘I’ll get a forensic specialist to take a look. Then we should know how old the grave is. If it’s a hundred years or more, the police won’t be interested.’
    ‘But someone else might?’
    ‘This entire archipelago is a wonderland for archaeologists. What were your plans for the playground?’
    ‘Vegetables, but not until spring.’
    Erling nodded. ‘Okay, now show me what you found in the loft.’
    He had painted the image with a swiftness and sureness of hand he’d never experienced before. The intricacy of the magic flower still astonished him. He’d intended
keeping the grey colour of the strip of muslin, but had found shades and hues dropping from his paintbrush. Even now, gazing on his attempts at painting one, Mike wanted to paint them all, although
he would have to remove them from the loft to do that. A thought that made him uneasy.
    Perhaps I could take photographs of them in situ and work from that.
    The policeman’s voice broke into his thoughts.
    ‘Did you paint this?’ He was observing the canvas with an appreciative eye.
    ‘Yes,’ Mike said, almost shyly, because he thought it was better work than he’d done for some time. ‘The original is here.’ He lifted the bagged flower from the
table and offered it over.
    The detective immediately tipped the flower into his hand, causing Mike’s heart to speed up. He didn’t regard himself as superstitious, but since he’d found out what the magic
flowers represented, he hadn’t handled them again.
    The detective spent some moments examining it before passing it to the Ranger.
    ‘What do you think?’
    Derek whistled between his teeth.
    ‘I’ve heard of these but never actually seen one.’
    ‘What is it exactly?’
    ‘The hem of a muslin smock