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‘And Beverley was born?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘Not then. I explained that Theresa has been known to the department for a long time. The baby was a boy. She called him Clive. He’s sixteen now.’

‘Did Theresa cope with bringing up the child by herself?’

Hilary Masters shrugged. ‘She tried her best.’ she said. ‘She was very fond of him. We gave her all the support we could. The council found her a hard-to-let house on the Ridgeway – it was easier to get a council house sixteen years ago. We’ve had a social worker visiting the family since that time. Clive was put on the “at risk” register when he was born, not because we thought Theresa meant to harm him but because she could be careless, thoughtless about his safety. She let him wander about the estate when he was a very young child. It was hardly surprising that he first got into trouble when he was nine.’

‘What sort of trouble?’ Ramsay was unsure how much value this information could have for the murder investigation, but he had asked Miss Masters to tell him about the family.

‘I’m surprised you’ve never heard of him,’ she said, ‘though perhaps you’ve more important things to deal with than a petty thief…’ He thought she might be sneering at him but when he looked at her she was quite serious. ‘Clive has been in the juvenile court on numerous occasions,’ she said. ‘Mostly for vehicle related offences – taking and driving away and the theft of car radios. He seems to have an obsession about cars.’

‘Is he still at school?’ Ramsay asked.

She shook her head. ‘He left officially at Christmas but he hasn’t attended regularly for a couple of years. He’s always had problems at school. He struggled even in the remedial stream. A different parent might have pushed for him to have special help but Theresa had experienced the stigma of going to a special school and didn’t want that for her son.’

‘So what is he doing now? YTS?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘He started on a scheme in a garage in town but it never came to anything. I don’t know exactly what happened. He said the boss picked on him but I expect he was simply unreliable. Then he appeared in court again and that seemed to be the final straw. He got the sack about three months ago.’

She began to straighten a pile of printed forms in front of her. Ramsay wondered if she had finished her story but it seemed she was just starting to come to the point. She hesitated, still unsure how much to give away.

‘That was when Dorothea Cassidy took him on,’ she said. ‘She was a qualified social worker, you know, very experienced and sometimes she did some voluntary work for us, on difficult cases that needed more time than most field workers could give.’

Ramsay said nothing.

‘We had our differences,’ the woman went on. ‘I found Dorothea’s approach disturbing, risky. She was too involved, unprofessional. But she seemed to work wonders with Clive Stringer. She even persuaded him to go to church with her.’ This time there was a sneer in her voice.

Still Ramsay remained intently silent and she continued:

‘When Clive last appeared in court, Dorothea went and spoke up for him. He was expecting youth custody – we all thought that this time he would definitely go away – but she persuaded the magistrates to consider another supervision order. She told them that Clive had agreed to do some community service. She said it would be a fitting reparation for him to give something back to the more frail and vulnerable residents of the town.’

She smiled and for the first time Ramsay thought she might have a sense of humour. ‘Dorothea was magnificent in court,’ she said. ‘There wasn’t a dry eye in the house. She was terribly effective at that kind of thing.’

‘What sort of community service?’ Ramsay asked.

‘Oh,’ Hilary said. ‘She had persuaded the warden of Armstrong House to let him work there.’

Ramsay looked up sharply.

‘Was he working at Armstrong House yesterday?’

She seemed surprised by his sudden interest. ‘I expect so,’ she said. ‘He works there most days. Why?’

‘It appears that Dorothea was there visiting a sick old lady yesterday afternoon,’ Ramsay said, ‘ and she was due to speak to the residents’ association in the evening. Then her car was found this morning outside a house next door to the old people’s flats. It all seems rather too much of a coincidence.’

‘You can’t think that Clive Stringer had anything to do with her murder?’ Hilary said. ‘ He’s a bit simple but there’s no history of violence. And he adored her. In fact I was worried that he was becoming too dependent on her. He’ll need special help now, to come to terms with her death.’

There was a knock on the door and a young social worker came in. He blushed awkwardly and held out a sheet of typed paper.

‘Sorry to disturb you,’ he said. ‘This is the social report you wanted, Hilary.’

She was obviously irritated by the interruption and took the report without a word. He backed his way out of the room, stepping on his lace and stumbling. Ramsay waited until the social worker had shut the door behind him then continued:

‘Perhaps you could give me the background to yesterday’s case conference. You said there was a second child. Was Corkhill the father?’

‘No,’ she said. ‘ He’s only come on to the scene fairly recently. Theresa would never tell us the identity of Beverley’s father. She might not have known it. I’d always presumed that the pregnancy was the result of a casual relationship.’

‘If, as you say, she’s irresponsible, isn’t it surprising that there weren’t more children?’

‘There was another child,’ Hilary said. ‘A daughter, Nicola. She died suddenly when she was six months old. It was a typical cot death. Clive was three or four at the time. Theresa was dreadfully upset. I think it shocked her into being more careful for a while.’

‘Were there any suspicious circumstances surrounding Nicola’s death?’ Ramsay asked.

Hilary Masters shook her head. ‘No more than with any cot death,’ she said. ‘The police accepted that it was accidental.’

‘How old is Beverley?’

‘Two and a half. We were very pleased with the way Theresa was coping until Corkhill moved in with her.’

‘When was that?’

‘Just after Christmas.’ She paused. ‘Corkhill’s rather a romantic figure. Quite unreliable but I can understand why Theresa was taken in by him. He even charmed Dorothea, though she knew he had an extensive record. He was born in Liverpool and has moved around a lot. Not only here, but in Ireland and the States. It’s hard to imagine, though, how he made the arrangements or got enough money for his travels. And he’s probably alcoholic – certainly he drinks very heavily. I gather that there was a brief marriage when he was very young but this is probably the longest he’s settled anywhere since he left home as a teenager. He’s always had temporary labouring jobs then moved on. His longest period of employment was with one of those tacky fairgrounds that move round the country. Apparently he came to the north-east to work on one of those rides at the Town Moor Hoppings and stayed on. I’m not sure where he met Theresa.’

‘What’s he been done for?’ Ramsay asked. The name was unfamiliar.

‘Mostly drunk and disorderly. Some petty theft. And there was one charge of assault after a fight in a bar in Newcastle.’

‘Is he working now?’

‘He’s been unemployed since he moved in with Theresa, but this week he’s been helping with the fair on Abbey Meadow. He met up again with some old contacts. That’s partly why we’re so concerned.’

‘I don’t understand,’ Ramsay said.

‘There was some suspicious bruising on Beverley’s body,’ Hilary Masters explained. ‘When he’s drunk Joss is unpredictable, moody. We think it’s possible that he hit her.’

‘And on those grounds you took her into care?’