‘But it was you he came back for?’ Vera paused. ‘I’ve seen that photo of you as a lass.’ She nodded to the picture on the mantelpiece. ‘More than bonny. You must have had your pick of admirers. What attracted you to Robert? He wasn’t much of a looker, even when he was young.’
‘He was a farmer,’ Jill said. ‘I’d always dreamed of marrying a farmer and living in a place like this.’
‘That wouldn’t have been enough, though.’
‘He was kind. My parents had been through a messy divorce. They were both a bit flaky and self-obsessed. It was all shouting and throwing things, and not caring that I was stuck in the middle. I couldn’t see Robert behaving like that. Kindness is very attractive when you’re not used to it.’
‘But sometimes not enough?’ Jill didn’t answer and Vera continued. ‘You must have fallen for Crispin’s charms.’
‘Maybe. For a while. But then I saw sense and just threw myself into the work on the farm. I love it here, love the place and the animals.’ A pause. ‘And I love my husband. Robert and I are partners in every sense of the word. We don’t feel the need to bare our souls.’
Vera wasn’t quite sure she believed that. Robert’s dourness and reluctance to engage seemed like a kind of self-absorption to her. A selfishness.
Jill was talking again: ‘Besides, we’ve got this little one to think about now. A new start.’
‘I was wondering,’ Vera paused for a moment, then looked directly at Jill, ‘if that was a case of history repeating itself.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘There’s another man at Brockburn now, lording it over the place. Juliet’s bloke Mark Bolitho. He couldn’t be your Thomas’s dad?’
‘No.’ The response came slowly after she’d taken time to consider. ‘I don’t think he and Lorna ever met.’
‘Seems she was quite arty, though, your lass. She could have met him at his theatre? Or one of his community arts days at the big house.’
Jill shook her head. ‘She didn’t mention it. And she never did go to Brockburn. Never went near the place. I think because she’d heard the rumours and she thought it would be too close to home. Embarrassing. I never went either for the same reason.’
‘Apparently young Josh Heslop was keen on her too.’
‘Oh?’ Now Vera did have her attention. ‘He seems like a good lad. And they’re a lovely family. Rosemary called in yesterday just to offer her condolences. The rest of the valley haven’t been anywhere near. She brought a casserole, thinking I wouldn’t have much time for cooking.’ The grin again. ‘Not that I ever have much time for cooking.’
‘According to Josh, Lorna didn’t return his affections.’
Thomas was getting bored with the bricks. Vera could understand that. They didn’t seem to provide much in the way of entertainment, and if he had Stanhope blood, he’d be easily bored. The child started to grizzle and Jill took him up onto her lap, reached out and gave him a biscuit. ‘You’ve found out more about Lorna in the four days since she died than I had in the last three years. What sort of mother does that make me?’
‘The sort of mother who respected her daughter’s privacy, knowing that was the best thing to keep her well,’ Vera said. ‘I can’t do that. My job’s all about digging out information that other people would rather keep hidden.’ She stood up. ‘I’ll leave you in peace to spend some time with the bairn.’
As Vera made her way to the door, Jill spoke again. ‘I’m glad it’s you looking into it. Lorna would have liked you. You’d have made her feel safe.’
Vera wasn’t sure what to say to that. She started to feel herself come over all emotional, so she just nodded, and went outside.
She could see Robert Falstone, just where Jill had said he’d be, in a lower meadow, fixing a fence. He was almost done, but taking his time, looking for an excuse not to come back to the house, because he’d have seen her Land Rover in the yard. Not knowing who was calling, but imagining she was some other neighbour bringing pity and home-cooked food. He was two fields away but she decided to walk across the grass past the sheep, making sure to fasten the gates carefully behind her, instead of driving down the track. He must have been aware of her approaching, but he didn’t stand and look at her until she had almost reached him.
‘Are you one of them social workers, coming to check up on us?’
Vera was horrified. ‘Do I look like a bloody social worker?’
‘Who are you then? You don’t look young or smart enough for a reporter. We’ve had a few of those and all.’
‘I’m a police officer, the officer in charge of the investigation into your daughter’s murder.’ She held out her hand, but didn’t give her name. The Stanhope connection might not be welcome here.
He stood for a minute, then wiped his hand on his overalls and took hers ‘I can’t chat. I want to finish up here.’
‘No reason why we can’t talk while you finish off.’
He seemed about to argue, then realized she wasn’t about to shift, that she was as immovable as the hill behind them, and nodded.
‘All people seem to do is talk. Gossip everywhere about my lass being killed. Why can’t you do something to find out who did that to her?’ A pause. ‘That’s all I can think about. Her, cold, in the snow. Scared. And I wasn’t there to save her.’
‘Folk are scared too,’ Vera said. ‘Murder coming so close. That’s why they talk.’ A pause. ‘What do you make of Miss Browne? She seems to have gone missing.’
‘Wor lass liked her well enough. I thought she stuck her nose in when it wasn’t wanted.’
‘Recently?’
‘She came to the house a while ago. Just before Bonfire Night because the excuse was her asking if we had any wood for the fire in the village. Pallets, dry stuff that
