‘Didn’t she ask?’
‘No,’ Felicity said. ‘She just said she’d think about it. Then she ran off.’
Chapter Seventeen
Julie was back in her own home. Her mother opened the door to Vera, pulled her close for a conspiratorial whisper.
‘We’ve asked her to stay with us for a while, but she says she’d never face coming back. So I’ve moved in to keep an eye. Just for a week or two.’
Vera nodded, walked on into the house, kept her voice low too.
‘What about Laura, Mrs Richardson? How’s she?’
‘Eh, I don’t know. Not eating. Keeps to herself. I’ve asked if she wants her friends round but she says not.’
‘Is she in now?’
‘Aye, she’s in her room.’
‘I’ll just go up for a quick word. I’ll see Julie on my way out, if that’s all right. Would you mind telling her I’m here?’
Laura was lying on her bed, curled on her side, a magazine beside her. It was open but she didn’t seem to be reading. The window was shut and the room was hot. It was at the back of the house, looking out over a paddock, where a couple of tired ponies cropped the parched grass, and then a field of arable. Vera had knocked at the door and walked in without waiting for an answer.
The girl looked up. ‘What do you want?’ She was skinny, angular. Fourteen but no figure to speak of. Her hair was cut short and spiky. Eyes that glared at you. A rash of freckles across her nose which made her seem younger than she was. Soon, Vera thought, she might become an interesting beauty. Now she was sullen, miserable, lonely. There’d been a time when Vera had been desperate for children. The longing had come on her suddenly, when she was in her late thirties, shocking her with its intensity. It had been more potent than her dreams of men and sex. Just as well it never happened, she thought now. I could never have coped with someone like this.
‘I’d just like a chat,’ she said. ‘Now you’ve had a chance to think about things.’
‘I don’t know anything about what happened that night. I was asleep.’
‘I wanted to talk to you about that, pet. Are you sure you didn’t hear anything? A knock on the door, voices, a scuffle. You might have heard, thought it was Luke and his mates larking about. Nothing to feel guilty about if you did.’
‘I don’t feel guilty.’
‘Because I find it hard to believe you slept through all that.’
‘I sleep like a stone,’ Laura said. ‘Ask Mam.’
She glared at Vera, who felt out of her depth. She would have pushed another witness, but this was a young girl who’d just lost her brother. ‘Still,’ Vera said. ‘You might be able to help. I need to talk about Luke’s mates, what he got up to, who he mixed with. You’ll have a better idea about that than your mam.’
‘No, I won’t.’ Aggressive. As if Vera was crazy even to consider it.
‘He didn’t talk to you, then?’
‘No.’ That tone again. The one teenagers did when they really wanted to wind you up. Sneering. The voice that made you want to slap them. ‘I didn’t want him to.’
‘You didn’t get on?’
Laura pulled herself up onto her elbow. ‘I’ve had all the lectures, OK? From Mam and Nan and the teachers at school. I know it wasn’t his fault, the learning disability. I know I’m a bitch. But I couldn’t stand it. Everyone pointing at me, knowing I was his sister. Sniggering behind my back when he did something stupid. As if I could help it. We didn’t
She realized the implication of what she’d said as soon as the words came out, but wasn’t going to show she was sorry. She sank onto the bed and turned her back on Vera. Vera knew something of what she was going through. When she was a kid, people had sniggered about her too. She’d lived on her own with a mad father. No mother. No one to iron the school uniform or bake cakes for sports day. No one to take her to the hairdresser’s or explain about periods. Just Hector, who spent his spare time prowling the hills looking for raptors’ nests, who seemed to care more for his egg-collecting friends than his ugly daughter. But it wouldn’t help if she talked about that to Laura. Young people saw the middle-aged as a different species. How could Vera’s experience mean anything to the miserable girl lying on the bed?
She reached out and touched Laura’s shoulder. ‘Eh, pet, it’s not your fault. And you might be able to help without realizing.’
The girl turned onto her back, stared at the ceiling.
‘I didn’t know any of his friends.’
‘What about Thomas Sharp?’
‘He’s dead.’
Vera kept her voice even. The team back at Kimmerston would be astonished, she thought, that she could be this patient. ‘But you must have met him when he came to the house.’
‘Sometimes.’
‘What did you make of him?’
There was a silence. Vera wondered if she’d pushed too hard.
‘He was OK,’ the girl said at last. ‘Better than the others Luke had knocked around with. A laugh.’
She liked him, Vera thought. Fancied him, even. Had anything gone on between them? Furtive groping behind her mother’s back? What had Luke made of that?
‘It must have been a shock when he died.’
‘It was dreadful.’
‘Did you go to his funeral?’
She shook her head. ‘Mam wouldn’t let me take the day off school. She says I’m the only one with brains in the family and I have to use them.’ She paused. ‘I went with them to the river, though, when they took the flowers.’
‘Did Luke ever tell you what happened when Thomas drowned?’
‘He said he should have saved him.’ The answer came back loud and angry.
‘Do you think he could have saved him?’
‘I don’t know. Maybe. If he hadn’t been such a daft sod. If he’d made more effort.’ She started to cry, not for her brother, but for his friend.
‘Do you know anyone called Lily Marsh?’
‘I don’t know any old ladies.’
‘Why do you think she’s an old lady?’
‘It’s an old lady’s name, isn’t it? Lily.’
It’s the name of a flower, Vera thought suddenly and wondered why she hadn’t realized before. Does that mean anything? Did Luke have any middle names? Something floral? Were there any male names connected to flowers?
Laura was getting restive, curious despite herself. ‘Who is she anyway?’
‘Not an old person,’ Vera said. ‘A student teacher. Did she ever work in your school?’
‘Nah.’ Laura picked up the magazine and pretended to read it.
Vera saw she’d get nothing more out of her today. ‘I need to talk to your mam now,’ she said. ‘If you think of anything give me a ring. I’ll leave my card here on the window sill.’
Julie was sitting in her front room, staring at the television screen. Saturday teatime. Daft celebrities getting families to do daft stunts. Despite the heat she was wearing jogging pants and a sweater. When she saw Vera she jumped up and switched off the television, embarrassed perhaps to be caught doing something so normal. The room was the same size as Sal’s next door, but more cluttered. There’d be reminders of Luke everywhere – his clothes would still be in the plastic laundry basket next to the ironing board, his favourite video in the pile on the
