‘You might. I wouldn’t get it more than a couple of yards. Never got picked for the rounders team at school.’ She turned and led him up the gravel drive to the white house.
Inside the Eliots were having breakfast and, to her surprise, Hannah was there too. They sat round the table in the smart kitchen where Vera had been taken on her first visit: Veronica, a smartly dressed grey-haired man, whom Vera took to be Christopher the husband, Simon and Hannah. Hannah was still wearing a dressing gown, her hair was matted and she looked barely conscious. Simon had come to the door. No one else made any move. No expression of shock or hostility. It was as if they’d been captured in a photograph. There was the smell of good coffee and warm croissants. A jug of garden flowers stood on the table. The scene could have been a photograph in a smart Sunday supplement.
Vera was thrown by the presence of the young people. She hadn’t been expecting it. But she wasn’t going to let on. She pulled up a chair next to Christopher, leaving Ashworth standing behind her.
Simon seemed amused by the disruption to the family routine and by his parents’ dumbstruck stillness. ‘Coffee, Inspector? Or would you prefer tea? Hannah decided she was OK to stay here last night, so we thought we’d give it a go.’ He reached over and touched the girl’s hand.
Vera thought Hannah didn’t look up to making any decisions of her own. ‘Tea, please, pet. Strong as you like. My sergeant here likes coffee.’ She turned to Simon’s father. ‘We’ve not been introduced. My name’s Vera Stanhope. Inspector with Northumbria Police serious crime squad.’ When the man made no answer she added: ‘I know you’ve been away, but you have heard there’s been a murder in the valley?’
‘Of course.’ He was shocked at last to speech. ‘Hannah’s mother. A terrible tragedy.’ The voice was lovely, deep and resonant. A singer’s voice.
‘Did you know her well?’
‘Not well. We’d met a few times of course, through the children.’ He stood up, brushed a crumb from the grey suit trousers and took his jacket from the back of his chair. ‘I must go, I’m afraid. A meeting at nine.’ His body was younger than his face. Vera wondered if he went to the gym. She hadn’t asked if he was a member of the Willows, but surely the name would have been flagged up when the list had been requested. Assume nothing, she told herself, and made a mental note to check. It seemed that everyone involved in the case had a link to the Willows. The place was like the centre of a spider’s web.
‘Does the name Danny Shaw mean anything to you?’
He stopped with his hand on the table. She could smell his aftershave. His fingernails were obsessively clean. ‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t think so.’
He left the room then, without waiting to find out why she was asking. She found his lack of curiosity very odd and stared after him through the open kitchen door. She’d expected him to go upstairs to clean his teeth, perhaps to collect papers for work. There were still questions she had to ask him. But instead he stooped to pick up his briefcase, which was standing in the hall, and left the house. It seemed to her that he was running away. She was tempted to call him back, but after all they knew where he’d be and the gesture would have seemed ridiculous. Much better to go to his office and talk to him alone. She’d already checked that he was out of the country the day Jenny Lister died. They heard the sound of his car, the tyres crunching on the gravel.
With his departure, Veronica came to life. ‘What’s so urgent, Inspector, that you’re disturbing us at this hour in the morning?’
‘Murder,’ Vera said, enjoying the moment of melodrama. ‘That’s what’s so important.’
‘We’ve told you all we know about poor Jenny.’ The poor added at the last minute because of Hannah’s presence, though it seemed to Vera that Hannah was hardly aware they were there at all.
‘There’s been another death.’ At last Vera had the response she wanted. Even Hannah looked up, her eyes blurred. Ashworth’s mobile rang, spoiling the moment. Vera glared at him as he left the room to take the call.
‘Who else has been killed?’ Veronica had her palms on the table and had half risen in her seat.
‘A student called Danny Shaw.’
Silence. Again no sign that the name meant anything to them.
Vera leaned across the table towards Hannah. ‘You were at school with him, pet.’ Her voice so low that the others had to strain to make out the words. ‘Can you tell us anything about him?’
Hannah pushed her hair away from her face, made an effort to concentrate. ‘He was older than me.’
‘That’s right.’
‘In the sixth form when I was doing GCSEs. We met up on the school bus sometimes.’ She gave a sudden bright smile. ‘He asked me out.’
‘Did you go?’
‘A couple of times.’
Vera wished Ashworth were still in the room. She needed her eyes to be everywhere. Just now she looked at Simon Eliot. Had he known about this previous relationship? Was this the sort of thing young people in love discussed while they walked hand in hand down country lanes in the spring? Had he been jealous, or had the details of previous lovers added spice to their own lovemaking? Because turning her attention back to Hannah, seeing the smile again on her face, Vera thought she and Danny had probably been lovers. Now, it was impossible to tell what Simon thought about that. His arm was around Hannah and his only concern seemed to be for her.
Vera directed the next question to the boy. ‘Did you know Danny? You went to different schools, but you were about the same age.’
‘Yeah, I knew him. I was a bit older, but we had friends in common, went to the same parties. We weren’t close, though.’
‘Have you seen him this holiday?’
Simon hesitated. Because he was trying to remember, or because he had something to hide?
‘Once perhaps. A couple of weeks ago in a pub in Hexham.’ He turned to Hannah. ‘Do you remember, sweetie? You were there.’
‘Yes,’ she said immediately. ‘Yes, of course.’ But Vera thought she would have said anything to please him.
‘Why did you only go out with Danny a couple of times?’ Vera asked her. Hannah was so frail that she wondered if she would manage to answer even something as simple as this.
‘Nice body, shame about the personality,’ Hannah said. It wasn’t the first time she’d used the phrase. Perhaps that was how she’d described Danny to Simon. ‘I fancied him like crazy, then I realized he was an arrogant little shit.’
‘So you dumped him?’
‘Yes.’ Again there was the brief flash of a grin. ‘I think it was a new experience for him.’
‘Did he ever meet your mother?’
Vera asked the question as gently as she could, but still she felt the girl’s sudden pain at the memory.
‘Once. At least once. Mum asked him to Sunday lunch.’
‘How did it go?’
‘It was rather hideous actually.’ Hannah pulled a face. ‘You know how it is when you suddenly see a person through someone else’s eyes? I’d been taken in by Danny. He’d impressed me with his talk, his dreams and his plans for the future. He tried the same stuff with Mum, only he couldn’t impress her. She was perfectly pleasant and tactful, but it was obvious to me that she couldn’t stand him.’
‘That’s why you dumped him?’
‘I think so. Not because Mum didn’t like him. But because she made me realize that I didn’t like him much either.’
‘How did he take it?’ Vera realized that Ashworth had slipped into the room again and she felt more confident for his being there.
‘No one likes rejection, do they?’
‘Did he give you any hassle?’ This was Joe’s question.
‘Only enough to give my ego a nice boost. A couple of love letters. Some soppy emails. Just a case of wanting what he couldn’t have, I think.’