Juliet felt herself become light-headed and confused. The flash of confidence had already disappeared. How could she have ever thought she might get the better of her mother in any situation? She was stumbling her way towards a reply, some sort of apology that might improve the situation, when she heard the sound of a growling engine, the crackle of scattered gravel. Vera had arrived.
She left her mother’s room and almost ran down the stairs, tripping on the last step. Through an open door she could hear Mark talking on his phone to someone from the theatre and in that moment, she hated him. She wished she could recapture the courage that had allowed her, at least for a moment, to challenge her mother, and throw him out. How could he not sense how tense she was, how scared? She should be able to share with him the nightmare of her twisted, tangled family. Just as Vera started ringing the bell, Juliet opened the door to let her in. The detective stood there, legs slightly apart, as solid as the hills from which she’d grown. Behind her the lights on the tree twinkled, seeming to mock them.
‘You have to know something.’ Juliet spoke quickly before moving aside to let Vera in. ‘I told Mother that Crispin explained about the letter, asking her to take care of Lorna, before he died. I couldn’t admit that I’d been in her room. You do understand?’ Because surely this woman, who had been so comforting when she’d confided about her inability to conceive, would understand.
‘Well, I’ll do my best, but two women have been killed. I’m not prepared to play games.’
Then she was inside, stooping to take off her wet and muddy boots, puffing with the effort of bending to untie the laces, grabbing on to Juliet for a moment when she nearly toppled over.
‘Where is she then?’
‘In her room.’ Juliet came halfway up the stairs with Vera and pointed it out, but Vera stood for a moment in her stockinged feet.
‘I want you there too,’ she said. ‘I don’t have the time to repeat myself.’ She stomped on up to the landing, assuming that Juliet would follow. And of course Juliet did. Because Juliet had always done what she was told.
Vera tapped on the door, but went in before Harriet could answer. Juliet stood behind her.
Harriet was standing too, prepared for the onslaught. ‘We’ll go downstairs, shall we? I don’t think my bedroom is the place for any kind of official discussion.’
‘Oh, I think we’ll stay here,’ Vera said, moving in, looking around. ‘Plenty of room and it’s nice and cosy. I’ve been freezing my tits off outside for most of the day.’ She landed on a small silk chaise longue that stood under the window.
Juliet saw Harriet wince, but whether she was offended by the language or anxious that the furniture might not withstand Vera’s weight, it was impossible to tell.
‘Why don’t you both take a seat?’ Vera went on. ‘This might take a while.’
Harriet seemed about to object, but she went back to the armchair where she’d been sitting earlier. Juliet perched on the end of the bed.
‘You know I could charge you both with wasting police time.’ Vera was staring at them, her conker-brown eyes hard and cold. There was silence.
‘There are some things,’ Harriet was at her most imperious, ‘that should remain private.’
‘Not in a murder investigation!’ Vera had raised her voice so she was almost shouting. Juliet thought she was genuinely angry. ‘Do you think Lorna’s family want people in the village gossiping about her? Speculating about who her father might be? Her illness? The father of her child? Of course they don’t. But there’s gossip all the same. What makes you so different?’
Another silence.
‘You’ve known from the start that Lorna was most likely Crispin’s child.’ Vera spoke more quietly now, but Juliet found the tone of reason and logic even more chilling. ‘But you both pretended that you hardly knew her.’
‘We did hardly know her,’ Harriet said. ‘We didn’t have her round every week for tea on the lawn.’
‘Ah.’ Vera sounded suddenly wistful. ‘Tea on the lawn. Scones and strawberry jam. Meringues.’
Harriet stared at her as if she was mad.
Vera’s attention seemed drawn back to the present with a jolt. ‘You must have realized it was important for my investigation to understand the lass, to know all about her. You deliberately hindered my work. That’s an offence.’
Harriet said nothing.
‘Let’s see this famous letter then. The one Crispin told Juliet about before he died.’
Juliet almost fainted with relief. At first, she thought Harriet would refuse to comply. Her mother sat, stony-faced.
‘Look, pet, if you want to be difficult, I can always get a warrant, fetch my specialist search team in to look for it.’ A pause. ‘And if you’ve destroyed it, I’ll charge you with hampering a police investigation.’
Without a word, Harriet got to her feet. She fetched the key from the music box and unlocked the drawer, took out the envelope and handed it to Vera. The jaunty music died away. Vera looked at the letter as if she were reading it for the first time, slowly, taking in every word. Now, Juliet felt not only relief, but gratitude.
Vera stretched her legs so her feet were no longer touching the floor; she seemed beached on the fragile chaise like a whale. ‘Had Lorna found out about this? Had she come to you making demands?’ She waved the letter in her hand.
‘No,’ Harriet said. ‘How could she possibly have found out about it?’
Vera seemed
