‘No.’ Olivia paused for a moment. ‘More like an aunt or an older cousin. There wasn’t that responsibility or obligation you feel for a parent.’
Joe nodded, waited for a beat. ‘Constance is missing. Of course, we’re checking with her friends, but Lorna didn’t mention if she was planning to go away over Christmas?’
Olivia shook her head.
‘Did you ever meet her?’
‘Yeah, a couple of times. Before my daughter started school in September, Lorna and I would get together occasionally. Have a coffee, either in Kimmerston or Kirkhill. There’s a lovely park there, right by the river. Once or twice Connie was there. It seemed a bit weird that Lorna didn’t have friends of her own age, but Connie seemed cool.’ A pause. ‘She knew, like everyone, in Kirkhill. I suppose she’d taught most of them, knew their secrets.’
Joe nodded and got to his feet.
‘I’m sorry I haven’t been more help.’ She looked up and there was a moment of confession. ‘My bloke left three weeks ago. I’m only just holding it together. That’s why I’m so wrecked – it’s not just that we’re manic at work.’
‘I’m so sorry.’
‘He found someone younger who works in an office. Nine to five. Always there to cook his tea.’ She shook her head, a refusal to feel sorry for herself. She stood too and showed Joe to the door.
Chapter Twenty-Six
HOLLY ALSO SPENT THE MORNING IN Kimmerston. She’d phoned the Heslops’ farm the evening before, a call to their landline. Vera had given the number to her: ‘Use this. Mobile reception is crap anywhere near the forest.’
A middle-aged woman had answered. She sounded harassed, as if she was in the middle of something important, but her voice was pleasant enough. ‘Yes?’
‘Could I speak to Josh, please?’
‘Who’s speaking?’ Classic mother, nosy about her adult child’s calls. Holly wondered why Josh had moved back after years of freedom in Newcastle. Had the place really pulled him home as his friends had suggested? Or was the pull purely financial?
‘Holly Jackman.’ No need for her to know anything else, that she was part of the investigative team, though Holly wouldn’t put it past her to eavesdrop. Her mother wouldn’t be able to resist.
‘Just a minute.’
‘Hello.’ Josh Heslop’s voice, similar in inflexion to the recording of Lorna Joe had played at the briefing. A rural Northumberland accent that was quite different from city Geordie.
Holly had explained who she was and asked if they could meet. ‘I wondered if you’d mind coming into Kimmerston. Not to the station, it’s not a formal interview. This is a bit cheeky, but I understand you have an exhibition in the gallery in the Chantry. I’d love to see your art. Could we meet there?’ Not flirty exactly. Holly had never been able to do flirty. But interested and young men always seemed to like that.
‘Sure.’ An immediate response. Holly thought Vera might be a cow, but she was a wily cow. She knew how to reel in her witnesses. Holly had a brief image of Vera in thigh waders, standing in a river, a fishing rod in hand.
They’d arranged a time. The gallery had a coffee shop attached. Holly sometimes had lunch there. It was a solid stone building with its foundations in the river, a view over the water to the old houses on the other bank. She’d suggested that they meet in the cafe. ‘You can show me the exhibition after we’ve chatted.’ By the time the call had ended, Holly thought she’d had him eating out of her hand.
Tuesday morning, she got there early, bought herself a skinny cappuccino, and expected to wait, but he arrived soon after she did. Eager. She recognized him from the photo on the board in the ops room. Tall, fine-featured, dark-haired, dark-eyed. She had a moment of disappointment when she realized how young he was. Only twenty-three and not long out of university. Too young for her even if he hadn’t been a witness. She thought he’d smartened himself up for the meeting. He had that scrubbed, just-out-of-the-shower look, the jeans were clean and there was an ironed shirt and a jacket. His mother would certainly have thought he was out to meet a new girlfriend, unless he’d told her who Holly was. She waved, offered to buy him coffee, but he insisted on going to the counter himself.
The place was quiet. A couple of women, of Connie Browne’s vintage, were gossiping in a corner, but they were totally engrossed in their own conversation about plans for Christmas.
‘I’m not really sure how I can help,’ Josh said. ‘I explained to the other woman.’
‘My boss.’ Holly gave a little grimace. Not out of real disrespect to Vera. Of course not. But to encourage Heslop to talk, to make him feel she was different from the older woman, more on his wavelength.
‘She does seem quite a character.’ A shy smile because he didn’t want to be rude about a colleague whom Holly might admire.
‘That’s one way of describing her!’
Now the smile was shared.
‘Tell me about your home,’ Holly said. ‘The farm near Brockburn. I was speaking to your friends, the guys who work at the Baltic, and they said you loved it and wanted to get back as soon as you left university. I must admit I’m more a city girl. I live in Newcastle.’ She paused and when he didn’t answer immediately, continued. ‘Isn’t it a bit oppressive, living somewhere so small, so enclosed, where everyone knows you?’
Still, it took him a little while to answer. ‘It doesn’t feel like that to me. I find the city oppressive, claustrophobic. All those people. I love the space around Brockburn, the lack of noise, the dark skies. Even though the forest can make you feel closed in at times, that seems comforting to me. Or mysterious. And I get on very well with my family. I’ve never felt the need to escape from them.’ There was a moment of hesitation and she thought he had more to
