Holly didn’t answer immediately. She’d changed into pyjamas after the run and a shower, and there was nothing appealing about going out again.
‘No worries if you don’t fancy it.’ Vera’s voice was chirpy. ‘I’ll ask Joe. He’s always glad of an excuse to escape the family.’
‘No,’ Holly said. ‘I’ll go.’
‘Maybe phone first. It’s a long way for a wasted journey.’ And before Holly could answer Vera had replaced the receiver.
It was only an hour’s drive from Newcastle but it could have been a world away. It was already dark when Holly left home – this close to the winter solstice there seemed to be hardly any daylight – and out of the city there were no street lamps. The old Roman road that led west was straight but hilly, a roller coaster of sudden stomach-dropping dips that left her feeling seasick. Occasional headlights appeared suddenly over the brows of the hills, blinding her. Snow was still piled on the verges, but the tarmac was clear. She followed her satnav to the address Dorothy Felling had given her, and she arrived at the cottage before realizing quite where she was, without any sight of the big house.
When she’d phoned Dorothy had said they’d be in, but sounded a little reluctant. ‘If you really think it won’t wait until tomorrow . . . Please don’t ring the doorbell though. Our son will be asleep.’
Now Holly stood in the garden, tapping at the window. The curtains seemed heavy, and there was no view inside. She hoped they would hear her and let her in.
The door was opened. All she could see was the silhouette of a man, backlit from the room beyond. He moved into a wide front porch where jackets had been hung and boots stood in a line, where split logs had been neatly stacked and two wooden chairs looked out to the garden. There must have been a sensor, because the porch light came on, making her blink.
‘You must be the detective. Do come in.’ A Scottish accent. He stepped aside and she saw he was dark, slender, movie-star good-looking.
The living room was small but tidy. Bookshelves had been built on each side of the chimney breast above low, white-painted cupboards. The shelves were packed but ordered, no stray copies piled on top of other books. Holly liked that. There was a small sofa and a large armchair facing the fire. No television. A wicker basket full of toys was tucked away in a corner, and next to that a box of board picture books. Dorothy sat on the sofa with a glass in her hand. The woman got to her feet. ‘Come in. I’m sorry if I sounded grumpy on the phone. It’s been quite a couple of days. I don’t suppose you’d like a glass of wine?’
‘I’d love one, but I’ve got to drive home.’
The man held out his hand. ‘Karan Pabla. Do sit down. I could make some coffee?’
‘Oh, yes,’ Holly agreed, because she could tell it would be good coffee. ‘That would be terrific.’ She thought that if these weren’t witnesses, she’d like them as friends; she suddenly felt strangely lonely.
She sat in the armchair, felt warmed by the fire, comfortable.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you so late,’ Holly said, when coffee was made, biscuits offered. ‘But the first few days of a murder investigation are so important.’
‘And we do live close by . . .’ Karan smiled.
‘Well, yes. Dorothy, were you in the big house all day on Friday?’
‘It was an important day for the family,’ Dorothy said. ‘Mark has this idea for saving the building, keeping it in the family, making it a focus for cultural tourism in the North-East. It was his chance to pitch it to their friends, influential people in the regional arts scene. Well, I suppose they were mostly his friends. His acquaintances. Juliet didn’t know many of them. It was all a bit of a nightmare for her. Mark was hoping for enough sponsorship to allow him to make a big match-funding bid. We all wanted things to go well. When the weather closed in, we wondered about cancelling, but by then some people had already turned up, so we decided to go ahead.’
‘You help them all out there?’
‘She’s the only person who keeps it together,’ Karan said. ‘It would fall apart without her.’
‘Really? I hardly think so.’ But Dorothy gave a little laugh and Holly could tell she was pleased.
‘What brought you there?’ Holly wasn’t quite sure how to phrase the question. What’s an obviously intelligent, well-educated woman doing being a skivvy for a bunch of entitled people?
‘I’m Juliet’s friend.’ Dorothy seemed to understand what Holly wanted. ‘We were at school together. I went on to Cambridge. Crispin, Juliet’s dad, was already in failing health, so she came back here to help her mother on the estate as soon as she’d done A levels. She was never very interested in the academic thing anyway. But we kept in touch. After university, I started in law, got a place in chambers, all set to be a barrister, but I hated it. London and the work. Really, I’m much happier here in the country and I love bringing order out of domestic chaos. Karan wants to train to be a teacher, and we didn’t have much money after he gave up his job in the city, so when Juliet offered us the cottage rent free, it all came together. Karan’s been tutoring some of the local teenagers. It’s experience and a bit of extra income.’
Karan pulled a face. ‘For my sins. At least it’s made me realize I made the right choice when I plumped for primary teaching. No way could I do high school!’
Dorothy continued, as if he hadn’t interrupted. ‘This is
