‘When did she leave home?’ Ramsay asked.
Ellen shrugged, not sufficiently interested apparently to work it out.
‘About eighteen months ago,’ Prue said.
‘And she’s lived with you since then?’
Prue nodded. Ramsay turned again to Anna.
‘You didn’t see Gabby at school?’ he asked.
‘No,’ the girl said. ‘She still went to school in Hallowgate. To the sixth-form college. I’m at Otterbridge High.’
‘How did she get to school from Otterbridge every morning?’
‘I gave her a lift,’ Prue said. ‘Unless I had a meeting in another part of the region. Then she got the bus.’
‘But this morning?’
‘I gave her a lift.’
‘All the way to school?’
‘No. We were late. I dropped her here and she said she would walk.’ She put her head in her hands. ‘I left her here in the car park. We made plans for this evening. She said she had been invited to a friend’s house after school and she would come straight here afterwards. I never saw her again.’
‘Was that sort of arrangement usual?’
Prue shrugged. ‘She was eighteen, as streetwise as any kid I’ve ever met. I didn’t feel any need to check up on her.’
‘She didn’t seem unusually worried? Or excited?’
‘She was always pretty high,’ Prue said. ‘ But perhaps she was even more excitable than usual. I didn’t think anything about it.’
There was a pause.
‘Did you notice any change in her clothes when you found her body?’ Ramsay asked cautiously. The last thing he wanted was a distressing scene with Anna in floods of tears. ‘Or was she wearing the same things as when you left her this morning?’
‘The same,’ Prue said. ‘Definitely the same. Black leggings, a long navy sweater, a black leather jacket, and DMs.’
‘DMs?’ Ramsay asked.
For the first time Hunter interrupted, pleased to emphasize Ramsay’s age, to show how out of touch he was.
‘Dr Marten’s,’ he said, with a sneer. ‘They’re boots.’
‘Oh yes!’ Ramsay said confused. Weren’t Dr Marten’s worn by the thugs who kicked policemen at football matches and marched on National Front demonstrations? What was a pretty young girl like Gabriella Paston doing wearing boots that his dad would have worn down the pit?
‘They’re quite common,’ Prue said. ‘All the kids have them.’
He said nothing. How could he know what all the kids were wearing?
‘We’ll check with the school,’ Ramsay said at last. ‘See if she was there all day. We haven’t got a time of death yet…’
He paused unhappily, aware that he was passing on ideas and information to which the witnesses had no right. He was treating Prue Bennett as a friend not as a possible suspect in a murder investigation. He should know by now the danger of becoming involved…
‘Gabby weren’t at school,’ Ellen Paston said suddenly. ‘At least she weren’t there late this morning. I saw her.’
‘Where did you see her?’
‘Hallowgate Market,’ she said flatly. ‘I don’t start here until six on a Monday. I went out and did my bits of shopping before I came.’
‘What time did you see Gabriella?’
She shook her head. ‘Twelve o’clock,’ she said. ‘Half past.’
‘Did you speak to her?’
‘Na!’ she said. ‘I didn’t get a chance. I was queuing by that stall that always has the cheap veg.’ She turned to Prue. ‘ You know the one. I said to the lass behind me: “It’s like bloody Moscow waiting to be served here.” But it’s worth it in the end. You can get a canny bargain…I was just about to be served when our Gabby came past, walking very fast, almost running. I shouted out to her but she didn’t take no notice. Perhaps she didn’t hear me but I think she heard well enough. I wasn’t going to lose my place in the queue to go chasing after her.’
‘Were you surprised,’ Ramsay asked, ‘to see her out in Hallowgate when she was supposed to be at school?’
‘Na!’ Ellen Paston said. ‘It’s not like a real school is it, the sixth-form college. They’re in and out of it all the time.’
‘Did you see if she met anyone?’
She shook her head. ‘I was too busy keeping my eye on the lad who was serving me. They give you all the shite from behind the counter if you don’t watch them.’
She sat back in her chair, her feet planted firmly on the floor, her legs slightly apart remembering her weekly triumph in the battle with the market salesman. Perhaps the thought of the victory gave her courage because she went on: ‘ Well, if that’s all I’ll be off. I’ve been here two hours longer than I’m being paid for and I doubt if Mr Lynch will want to cough up the overtime.’
Ramsay was surprised by the woman. He would have expected more reaction. Even if she and Gabby had lost touch shouldn’t there have been some grief, the pretence at least of sadness? She seemed not to care what impression she was making. He decided that her lack of response was caused by shock, and her gracelessness touched him and made him sympathetic. He would have taken her address and arranged to speak to her in the morning then let her go. But Hunter wanted to stamp his authority on the interview. He thought she should have more respect and thought he would show her who was in charge.
‘This is a murder enquiry,’ he said sharply. ‘A serious matter.’
‘Go on then,’ she said, not intimidated in the least. ‘Get on with it. I live with my mam. She’s an old lady. She’ll be wondering what’s happened to me.’
Hunter paused. Having made his point he was having difficulty coming up with a relevant question.
‘There is something,’ he said. ‘Probably not important but I’m interested all the same. Why Gabriella? Why choose a name like that? Not a common name for a Hallowgate lass.’
‘Her mother was Spanish,’ Ellen Paston said, as if the word was an insult. ‘Our Robbie met her when he was working the fishing boats. He had a season down in Spanish waters and brought her back with him. She never settled. I don’t know why. Our Robbie spoilt her rotten. I doubt if it would ever have lasted. Mam and I could never take to her. All show.’
She was jealous, Ramsay thought, of her brother’s wife. Is that why she expressed so little grief at Gabriella’s death? Had her ugliness made her resent the beautiful young girl?
‘And they were both killed in a car crash?’ Hunter said.
‘Aye.’ Ellen paused, leaned forward, her elbows on her knees. For the first time Ramsay sensed real pain. She had loved her brother. She seemed lost in thought, then stared up at Hunter defiantly. ‘ Look,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell you because you’ll find out anyway. Or perhaps you already know. They were in a stolen car. Robbie was a bit wild when he was a lad and that wife of his only egged him on. They were coming out of town down the Coast Road when the police saw them and started chasing them. They drove into the back of a lorry. They didn’t have a chance.’ She snapped her mouth shut as if she had already given away more than she had intended.
‘Did Gabby know how her parents died?’ Hunter asked.
‘Not the details,’ Ellen said flatly. ‘Not from us.’
So, Ramsay thought, despite what the politicians and the media said, joy-riding wasn’t an invention of the nineties. Since the invention of the motor car there had always been foolish young men who drove too fast.
‘We won’t keep you,’ he said to Ellen. ‘If you wait in the lobby I’ll arrange for someone to give you a lift home. My sergeant will come with you and make sure we have your details.’
He was left alone then, in the cold impersonal room, with Prue Bennett and her daughter. He wanted to say something which would establish some real contact between them, to ask about Prue’s parents, to tell her about Diana and the divorce. But Prue had taken his last words as a general dismissal. She helped Anna to her feet and left the room without a word.