‘Could you manage a mince pie?’ Jill said. ‘Shop-bought. Obviously.’
‘Eh, hinnie,’ Vera smiled. ‘That’s just how I like them.’
Chapter Forty-Five
AT BROCKBURN, JULIET STOOD AT HER bedroom window and looked out at the garden and the forest in the distance. She thought she was always an observer, always looking out. It was as if this grand house was a prison or a cage and she couldn’t quite take the step to freedom, to break away.
Mark had gone into Kirkhill early to buy a paper and returned to say that the Co-op had been full of the news of Neil Heslop’s arrest. She supposed he would be spending the rest of his life behind real bars, locked gates. The life that he’d known before with Rosemary and his children was over. It seemed ridiculous to turn herself into a virtual prisoner when she had the opportunity to do whatever she wanted, just because she didn’t have the confidence to strike out on her own.
The trouble was that she wasn’t quite clear in her own mind what she wanted. A child, of course. That was always in her mind and the babies that might have been still haunted her. But there were children who needed homes and she had the space and the love to give them. Mark had tried to bring up the subject of adoption in the past but she’d always put him off; she’d seen it as a second-best option, not enough. After holding Thomas in her arms in this room, she wasn’t sure now that was true.
Perhaps, she thought, she should escape this altogether: the house, her mother and her marriage. She could run away, travel, take a university course, see a bit of life away from the valley. She had a brief image of a sunlit hillside with the sea in the distance, the smell of salt and thyme, the taste of olives and oranges.
Juliet knew that would be an empty gesture, though. It might do as a holiday but not a long-term proposition. She belonged in this place and wanted to be here. She needed to stand up to her mother, not allow herself to be bullied, and she should make a real effort to work with Mark and make his project a success. There could be excitement enough in that. After all that had happened, Harriet was no longer in any position to call the shots. Perhaps she could be persuaded to move to a comfortable flat in the city, somewhere close to her friends and the shops. Without the woman’s interference, she and Mark would have more of a chance to build a proper marriage. Only then could they consider a child. The possibilities made Juliet feel suddenly joyful, dizzy. A new year would bring new possibilities. Perhaps Vera was like a crotchety fairy godmother, who had opened Juliet’s eyes to a different world.
As if on cue, there came the distant sound of the ancient Land Rover’s engine, and Juliet watched as it stopped in front of the house and Vera climbed down.
Chapter Forty-Six
VERA ARRIVED AT BROCKBURN BY THE grand drive. When she’d left the Falstones, she’d sat in the vehicle for a moment, the low winter sun shining straight into her eyes, making them water, planning her last visit of the day. It was a week since she’d first driven this way to Brockburn and parked by the cedar tree, scattered with fairy lights, the toddler in the Land Rover beside her. Today was the winter’s solstice, the longest night of the year. Lorna’s ‘Darkest Evening’. She’d felt then a bit like Cinderella, peering through the window at a different world. She knew better now and she didn’t envy them their house or their fancy parties. She got out of the Land Rover and rang the bell by the front door. Dorothy opened it almost immediately.
‘Are the family in?’
‘They are. Juliet’s upstairs, but I’ve just shouted to let her know there’s coffee in the kitchen.’
‘Perfect timing then. You’ll join us, pet? It’ll save me having to repeat myself.’
‘Of course.’
Juliet appeared beside them and then they were all there. Harriet sat at the head of the table, immaculate in a cashmere sweater and silk scarf, grey trousers. Juliet looked pale and skinny, but for once she wasn’t wearing black. Instead she was in a bright red sweater over her jeans. Mark, at the other end of the table, was still dressed like a country gent in wool sweater and cord trousers. Dorothy poured coffee and passed around a plate of brownies. The coffee was strong and good. Vera thought there were compensations to mixing with the gentry.
‘I wanted to let you know that we’ve arrested a suspect for the murders of Lorna Falstone and Constance Browne. Only fair that you should know before the press gets wind.’
‘Oh?’ Harriet showed slightly more interest than she had on any of Vera’s previous visits.
‘We’d heard,’ Juliet said. ‘Mark was in Kirkhill this morning and everyone was talking about it.’
‘You didn’t tell me.’ Harriet turned a stony stare on her daughter, but Juliet didn’t seem cowed. Harriet looked back at Vera. ‘Well? Who was it?’
‘Your tenant from Home Farm. Neil Heslop. It seems he was the baby’s father.’
‘Ah.’ Harriet seemed almost pleased. ‘A domestic situation. I suppose that makes sense.’
‘Poor Rosemary,’ Juliet said. ‘To have a husband capable of that! Of murder! I’ve been thinking I should go round.’ She looked at Vera. ‘Or do you think that might make things worse?’
Vera didn’t think anything could make things worse but she didn’t reply.
‘You’re sure he was the culprit?’ Harriet said.
‘He’s confessed. There’ll be a guilty plea. No need for a trial.’
‘Ah,’ Harriet said again, and Vera could sense the relief, the satisfaction. ‘I suppose we’ll need to find a new tenant.’
‘Not yet.’ Juliet was firm. ‘The Heslop girls are still at school and we can’t ask them to leave Home Farm. Not now. We can keep things ticking over for a while, even if
