‘Darling.’ Harriet spread her arms wide. ‘Isn’t this the most terrible mess?’ There was a hint of reproach in her voice as if Juliet and Mark had somehow been responsible for Lorna’s dead body being found in their grounds.
‘What do you want, Mother?’
The tone of her mother’s voice had rankled and Harriet rarely ventured into the kitchen unless she wanted something. Certainly not to help stack the dishwasher or put laundry into the machine.
‘Well, tea would be lovely,’ Harriet said, ‘and perhaps we could plan something a little more substantial than soup for dinner, but now we have the house almost to ourselves, I thought we should discuss what’s happening and decide how we should deal with it. Some sort of meeting. Just the three of us. Where is Mark? I suppose he should be there while we have our little chat.’
Juliet didn’t say that he’d gone to sleep off the results of last night’s drinking. As soon as their friends had left, he’d dropped the bright and cheery act and collapsed. ‘I’ll find him. Why don’t you put the kettle on, while you’re waiting for us?’ She walked up the stairs, surprised that she’d found the courage to suggest her mother should do such a menial chore.
Later, they gathered in the small drawing room, just the three of them. Dorothy had laid a fire in the grate before she’d left and Juliet put a match to it, but the place still felt damp and chill. She drew the curtains to shut out the gloom and the memories of Lorna, who as far as she knew was still lying outside. Harriet had surprised Juliet by making the tea and had carried it through; the tray was on a small occasional table. While they spoke, they sat with cups and saucers finely balanced on knees and chair arms, like actors in a pre-war farce.
‘So, what has been going on?’ Harriet had obviously decided to take the lead. She looked at her daughter and son-in-law, her eyes icy and her back straight. She looked almost excited. ‘And what should we do about it?’
‘I don’t think there’s much we can do about it.’ Mark had been churlish since Juliet had gone to summon him. She suspected he still had the hangover. ‘Except to let the police get on with things and hope that they find the killer quickly.’
A silence. Juliet thought she might be expected to fill it, but she was thinking, just no. I’m too exhausted. And they never listen to me anyway. They’ll fight it out between them and do want they want. She finished her tea and reached out to put the cup and saucer back on the tray.
‘I think, Mark, that whether we like it or not, we are involved.’ Harriet was talking as if he was a backward child. He’d hate that. There was nothing he disliked more than being patronized. Juliet couldn’t blame him. She wanted to tell him not to take it personally. Her mother spoke to everyone like that. Harriet continued speaking. ‘The girl was found dead on our property, her parents are our tenants and we’ve known her since she was a girl.’
‘Do the police know that you’re the family’s landlady?’ It seemed that he was too curious to be aggrieved by her tone.
‘You make me sound like the owner of a seaside guest house.’ Harriet looked at him as if he was a worm. ‘They’re tenant farmers. Nearly all the people who farm in the valley are our tenants. Of course the police will know. Whatever I think of Vera Stanhope, she’s a countrywoman. She understands how these things work.’
‘So, you both knew the dead woman?’ This time he looked at Juliet for an answer.
‘I knew her a bit when she was younger. We were both mad about horses, so I saw her around. She was younger than me.’
‘She was a nervy little thing,’ Harriet said. ‘She had an eating disorder when she was at school.’ A pause. ‘The GP didn’t seem to be doing anything. She ended up in a specialist residential clinic.’
‘You seem to know quite a lot about her.’ Mark’s surprise came across as manufactured. He took every chance he could to have a dig at Harriet. Juliet found the continual spats, the need to take sides, childish and exhausting.
‘The family has always felt a certain obligation to the people who live on our land. Of course we take an interest.’ This was Harriet at her most imperious; she brooked no argument. Which, Juliet thought, was just as well. She didn’t want Mark poking around into their private lives either.
‘You know there’ll be press interest in the case,’ Mark said. ‘I’m surprised they haven’t been here already. Perhaps the snow put them off, but according to the lunchtime forecast, it’ll all be gone tomorrow. I think we should provide them with a statement.’
‘They’ve been on the phone.’ Juliet had fended off a couple of calls, then made sure they went straight to voicemail.
‘Obviously, we’ll be careful what we say to them.’ Harriet turned to Mark. ‘Why don’t you draft a statement. I’m sure you’re good at that kind of thing.’ A pause. ‘Of course, run it past us before you put it out.’
‘I could do that.’ He seemed almost pleased though Juliet knew that Harriet hadn’t meant the comment as a compliment. She despised the press. ‘We might be able to slip in something about the theatre project. It’d be great to get something
