‘I’m sorry,’ Joe said.
‘Lorna came to Nat’s funeral.’ Sophie looked up from the counter where she was setting out cups.
‘Did she?’ Paul seemed surprised.
‘I wasn’t part of the family then.’ She brought coffee to the table, with a plate of mince pies. ‘I was sitting at the back. Lorna came and sat beside me.’
‘Did you talk?’ Joe asked.
‘No, she slipped off straight after the service.’
There was a moment of silence before Joe asked, ‘You work with Mark Bolitho?’
‘Yes. I soon realized I wouldn’t make it as an actor.’ Sophie smiled. ‘I’m not sufficiently thick-skinned. All the auditions, all the rejections. I enjoyed the residency at the hospital, but that was stressful in its own way too. I moved into admin at the Live Theatre, starting out as Mark’s assistant. When he married Juliet and moved out into the wilds, he offered me a job-share.’
‘That suits you better?’ Joe took a mince pie while he was waiting for an answer.
‘I love it! We make a good partnership. Mark’s very creative and I’m more organized, better at the figures and the finance.’
‘You were already friends?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘It was shameless nepotism that got me the job.’
‘Mark was Sophie’s first boyfriend,’ Paul said. ‘The love of her life.’ He gave a little laugh, but there was an edge of jealousy in his voice. ‘And now he’s trying to tap me for sponsorship for his project.’
‘I was only his girlfriend when I was eighteen.’ She smiled and put her hand on his shoulder. ‘And I was at Brockburn as his colleague. I’m sure he didn’t see us as potential donors.’ There was a pause. No response from the husband. ‘You do know that I wouldn’t swap what I have here for anything.’ Joe thought she’d said that before. Paul Blackstock was a man who needed reassurance.
‘What’s Mark like as a boss?’ Joe asked.
‘Great! Really understanding and supportive. Not every manager’s as flexible about maternity leave in a small company.’
Joe wondered what it must be like to have a boss who was so helpful, then he thought he’d rather work for Vera than Mark Bolitho any day.
The baby in the crib began to grizzle. Sophie got to her feet, picked her up and stroked her head. Joe stood up too. He thought he’d done all he could here. Vera always said she didn’t believe in coincidence, but the link between the couple and Lorna Falstone was so tenuous that he couldn’t believe it was important.
Chapter Sixteen
HOLLY WASN’T COMFORTABLE IN PUBS. She’d never seen the attraction, even when she was a teenager and it had been a rite of passage to con an underage drink in the bars that weren’t too fussy. The chaos and the shouting, the loud and raucous laughter, the closeness of strangers had unnerved her. The worst were the city pubs with TV screens showing endless snooker, blaring music competing with the beeps of slot machines, but even here in the Stanhope Arms in Kirkhill, she had a moment of panic. In the bar, a large screen was showing a Premier League football match and a group of middle-aged men had pulled chairs into a semicircle to watch it. There were occasional groans and at one point they all got to their feet and cheered. The lounge had started serving early Sunday lunch and though it was quieter there, the acoustics made it seem as if all the diners were shouting.
In contrast, Charlie seemed entirely at ease. He stood behind the football fans and cheered with them when a goal was scored. He must have sensed Holly’s discomfort.
‘Why don’t you leave me here? You take the old people’s bungalows on the edge of the village. They’re in the same little estate where Lorna had her house. The old gadgees will find it easier to chat to a woman and if anyone knows the village gossip it’ll be them.’ Charlie gave a sudden grin. ‘You’ll probably have to drive back, like. I’ll not get this crowd to talk to me if I’ve not got a pint in my hand.’
Holly nodded and found herself outside, looking down the grey empty street. The shops seemed shut and the hills beyond were covered in cloud. When it lifted a little, she saw that there was still snow on the ground on the tops. She walked down the main street, past a butcher advertising home-made pies, and a greengrocer. Only the Co-op was open and that was empty. She knew Lorna’s address and the layout of the village. Basic research. Vera had never been able to fault her on that. Sometimes, Holly wondered what it would take to get her boss’s admiration, her approval even.
Charlie had been right. There was a small terrace of council houses, a few already decorated for Christmas, with a glowing Santa on one wall and flashing fairy lights on another. Further down the slope towards the village stood four detached bungalows, smart, tidy. Holly knew that in one of these lived Constance Browne, and Vera had already been there. Past the house where Lorna had lived, the road curved up and led to six more bungalows, older, semi-detached, obviously designed for elderly or disabled people. Some had ramps and some had grab rails. They were not at all smart.
Holly rang the bell of the first house and heard it sound, very loud, inside. A light seemed to have been triggered on the other side of the door and when it opened, she saw that the elderly man wore hearing aids.
‘Who are you?’ The tone was pleasant enough, but he was making it clear he would take no nonsense.
She showed her warrant card.
‘Ah, you’ll be here about the poor lass down the street. I’m not sure I can help you, but come away in. You’ll not have to
