‘You’re probably right, pet. She’ll turn up at teatime and I’ll look a right fool for having half of Northumbria police on the lookout for her.’ Vera turned her attention to Dorothy. ‘Did you enjoy the party at Home Farm last night?’
‘Very much. It was kind of Mark and Juliet to babysit. We don’t get out much.’
‘And your fella’s helping the Heslop girl with her exams?’
‘Cath’s struggling a bit. It can’t be easy having such a bright elder sister.’
‘So, Nettie’s the brainy one?’
‘According to Neil and Rosemary.’
‘A bit like you and me, Dorothy.’ Juliet couldn’t help joining in. She tended to babble when she was nervous. ‘I always felt a bit stupid compared to you.’
Vera took no notice of that and carried on speaking before Dorothy could comment. ‘Nice that you’re both settling into the community.’
‘It is,’ Dorothy said. ‘We both feel very much at home already.’
Now Vera turned back to Juliet. ‘There’s something I need to ask you. It’s a family matter. Perhaps we should discuss it on our own.’
Dorothy stood up. ‘Of course. I’ll leave you to it. There’s plenty to do upstairs. Lunch can wait.’
The last thing Juliet needed was to be left alone with Vera. ‘No, no. Please stay. Dorothy’s my friend, Vera. I would tell her anyway, once you’ve gone.’
Vera nodded again and Dorothy returned to her chair. ‘My sergeant’s just been to Halstead House, the private hospital where Lorna was treated for anorexia. It’s a pricey business being ill, it seems, if you don’t want to queue with the NHS.’ She paused, seeming reluctant at first to ask her question. ‘Lorna’s bills were paid by your father, Juliet. Did you know about that? Was it some kind of loan to the Falstones?’
For a while, Juliet said nothing. So, after all, the family secrets would leak out. Harriet’s efforts over the years to keep a lid on things, to smile as she walked into church, to host garden parties for the Women’s Flower Guild and the WI, to pretend that there was no gossip, had all been in vain. Poor Mother. It was such a strain. Perhaps it’ll be a relief not to have to pretend any more. But she knew Harriet would be mortified.
‘I didn’t know about that,’ she said at last. ‘I knew my father had relationships with other women. He was famous for it. Nobody talked of it, of course. When he was younger it was almost as if he were admired for it, for his ability to charm.’
‘He’d had a relationship with Lorna?’
‘No!’ Juliet was horrified. ‘She was still a child when he became ill. He died not long after she left the clinic.’
‘So it was Jill Falstone he had the affair with?’
Again, Juliet took a while to answer and wondered how much she should tell. But Vera was a witch; she’d find out anyway. ‘Jill was different from the others. I think she got under his skin.’
‘How do you know? You’d only have been a bairn.’
Another silence. The deep dense silence that could only be experienced this far from neighbours and a road. ‘I was an only child,’ Juliet said. ‘I spent a lot of time listening to conversations I wasn’t supposed to hear. When my mother was out of the house, my father made telephone calls to Jill. He loved her, I think.’ A pause. ‘Once, I went into his office and he was crying.’
‘Was Lorna his daughter?’
‘No!’ This time there was no hesitation. ‘No! My father could be reckless when it came to his own safety. He rode like a madman and drove like a maniac. But he wouldn’t have allowed anything like that. Not something that would have affected the reputation of the family.’ There was a pause and Juliet considered the question again and pushed it away. Just as she had since she’d first met Lorna when she was still a child, riding a horse that was just too small for her.
Now, there was another silence, and when Vera spoke it was very gently. ‘You do know we’ll be able to find out,’ she said. ‘We’ll ask to take a sample of your DNA and compare it to Lorna’s.’ Another pause. ‘Of course, we’ll be discreet.’
This was much worse than Juliet had been expecting. ‘My father felt an obligation to Jill Falstone. When her daughter was struggling, he wanted to help. I think he would have acted in the same way for any of his tenants who were in trouble, for Nettie or Cath Heslop at Home Farm, for example.’
‘But he never had an affair with their mother? With Rosemary?’
‘No!’ Juliet imagined her father falling for Rosemary Heslop, so domestic and practical, so physically ordinary, and couldn’t help smiling. ‘She wasn’t his type at all.’
Dorothy shifted in her seat. ‘I’m sorry, Inspector, but I don’t quite see how this might relate to Constance Browne’s disappearance.’
Vera smiled. ‘Good question. I’ve been wondering about that myself.’ She turned back to Juliet. ‘You’d have needed someone to talk to while all this was going on. You’d still have been in the primary school when Lorna was born, when your dad was losing his head over a bonnie lass. You wouldn’t have known Dorothy here then. It occurred to me that you might have confided in Connie.’
Juliet blinked. For a moment she was back in the little school, in the playground surrounded by fields, the sound of sheep. There was a climbing frame where the brave girls hung like bats, their knees round the bar, skirts falling over their heads, so the boys screamed that their knickers were showing. She’d never been one of the brave girls. It must have been April because there were new lambs in the field and someone in the village had been cutting grass. She couldn’t remember how old she’d been. Not in the top class, because one of the older girls came over to her and started jeering about
