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keep an eye on the view of the street through the front window, as if there was something going on out there that he didn’t want to miss. He was fidgety and nervous, and she remembered that Laura Vernon’s death would be having an impact at the office too.
‘I don’t suppose Graham Vernon has been into work today, Dad?’
‘No, no. He phoned to say he would be at home for a few
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days to look after Charlotte. And to help the police, of course. He said we could contact him there if we need him. But ill the meantime I’ve to carry on as normal. I’ve got to take over all his appointments and meetings.’
Andrew looked at his watch as he said this, shooting back a white cuff containing one of a pair of gold cufflinks that Helen had bought him. ‘I can’t stop long,’ he said. ‘I’ve got to be back in Sheffield by twelve for a lunch.’
‘I’ll have to be going soon too, Grandma.’
o o ‘
Gwen dropped her knitting and reached out for Helen’s arm. ‘I daren’t go out, Helen. Will you fetch me some bread and tea from the shop before you go?’
‘Why daren’t you go out, Grandma?’
‘Why? Can’t you imagine what people are saying about us? They’re looking at me if I even go near the windows. That’s why I closed the curtains.’
‘Take no notice, Grandma. People will soon forget.’
Helen had noticed the extra activity in Moorhay. There were more walkers than usually passed through, even in summer. Many of them were not dressed for walking, but stopped and peered into the windows of the cottages they passed. The car park at the Drover was full, and there were cars parked along the roadside, their roofs shimmering with heat. There were even two cars in the layby where the Hulley’s bus stopped twice a day. The bus driver would be annoyed when he came.
Andrew began to mop his brow with a white handkerchief as he cast another glance towards the front window. ‘So the police haven’t been back then, eh, Gwen? That’s good, isn’t it?’
The old woman didn’t look convinced as she fumbled for some money in an old purse. ‘I suppose so. And an extra pint of milk, Helen.’
‘I’ll get off then, if you’re all right, Gwen. Take care of yourselves, you and Harry, won’t you? Bye, Helen.’
Helen said goodbye and watched her father let himself out of the front door. She wondered, for a moment, where he had been passing from if he was on his way back to Sheffield.
Helen paused in the street after leaving Dial Cottage. She had
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recognized a figure further up the road, emerging from one of iiie houses near the village hall. Ben Cooper was wilh the woman police officer who had come to the house with the more senior detectives to talk to Harry. She was carrying a clipboard and siic looked serious and businesslike.
Helen hesitated, unsure whether she should speak to them, not knowing whether Ben would want to acknowledge her in front of his colleague.
“I cannot believe,’ Fry was saying, ‘the way some of the people in this village speak to you, Ben. What do they think you are? Jesus Christ?’
Cooper shrugged. He thought of his first taste of Moorhay hospitality the day before, when the man mowing the graveyard had glowered at him with suspicion, and the woman watering her flower beds had refused to speak to him. They hadn’t known who he was then, hadn’t even known he was a police officer. He had just been some casual stranger in sweaty clothes, running madly through the heat, his behaviour unconventional, his intentions
o ‘ ‘
dubious. But that was not the picture of the place he would want to present to a genuine stranger, a real outsider, like Diane Fry. It was not how villages like Moorhay really were, at heart.
‘They just know me, some of them. Or they’ve heard of me, at least. It makes a difference. There are some folk who don’t like talking to outsiders much.’
“I suppose you think if I was going round on my own they wouldn’t even give me the time of day.’
‘Oh, they’d probably do that,’ said Cooper. ‘But it’d be the time in Papua New Guinea.’
‘Ha, ha.’
‘I’m only joking.’
‘Yes, I know. I could practically see you reading the script. But what gets me is that they all trot out your father’s name, like some mantra. Sergeant Cooper this, and Sergeant Cooper that. If you’re Jesus Christ, who must he be?’
‘Just an old-fashioned copper.’
‘You’d think he was a member of the family. They all look at you like a long-lost relative.’
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Fry saw Helen Milner first. Their eyes met, and Helen turned away, as il she had decided not to speak to them alter all.
‘And here’s another one,’ said Fry quietly.
Cooper noticed Helen then. Fry glowered at him as he smiled towards her.
‘Did you want to speak to us, Helen?’
‘No, no. it’s all right. Well, only … to saw hello. How are you
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getting on? Are you any nearer catching the man you want?’ ‘We’re just the troops on the ground, you know.
