‘Since I left school.’
‘You don’t need a degree to do something like this?’
‘I started as a trainee.’ He paused. ‘I was lucky. Peter knew the curator and put in a word for me.’
‘That’s Dr Calvert?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’ve known him for a long time?’
‘Yes, he was my trainer when I started ringing. I was fifteen then.’
‘Ringing?’
‘The study of migration. Birds are caught in nets or traps and small metal rings are put on the legs. If they’re caught again or found dead, we can tell where and when they were first ringed.’
‘And Mr Parr and Mr Wright are ringers too? That’s how you met?’
‘We don’t ring so much now. I’m the only regular at the observatory up the coast at Deepden and I don’t go so often. The rest have other lives. More exciting lives. But we’re still friends. We still go birdwatching together.’
‘Sea watching?’ Vera asked, joining in the conversation for the first time.
Clive gave something approaching a smile. ‘Gary’s the passionate sea watcher. The right time of the year he’ll spend hours in the watch tower. I say it’s because he’s so idle. He doesn’t mind the waiting. He says it’s a form of meditation.’
‘It must have been a shock, coming upon the body on Friday night.’
‘Of course.’
‘But perhaps not so much for you as the others,’ she said. ‘You work with corpses every day.’
‘The corpses of birds and animals. Not young women.’
‘No. Not attractive young women.’ She paused a beat. ‘Do you have a girlfriend, Mr Stringer?’
When she’d first seen him at the mill, she’d thought he looked like an overgrown, prematurely balding schoolboy. Now he blushed, furiously, and the image came back to her. She felt almost sorry for him.
‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t have a girlfriend.’
‘Are you gay?’
‘No.’
She looked at him, waiting for him to speak.
‘I find it difficult to approach women,’ he said at last. ‘I suppose I’m shy. And I don’t socialize much. I live with my mother. She was widowed when I was a baby and now she’s not very well. I’m all she has.’
Vera wanted to tell him to get out and get a life while he still had a chance. But it wasn’t her place.
‘Does Dr Calvert have a girlfriend?’
Clive stared at her, horrified. ‘What do you mean?’
‘A mistress. A lover.’
‘Of course not. He’s married to Felicity.’
‘This might come as a bit of a shock, pet. But some married men do commit adultery.’
‘But not Peter. You’ve seen them together. They’re happy.’
They put on a good show, Vera thought. That’s not the same thing at all.
But she smiled at him. ‘Aye,’ she said. ‘Maybe you’re right.’ She nodded towards Ashworth for him to take over the questions.
‘Were you working last Wednesday?’
‘Yes, until four-thirty. I start at eight and I’m supposed to finish at four, but it’s usually half past before I leave.’
‘What did you do then?’
‘I went home. I called at the supermarket on the way. We had a meal together. Mother usually goes to bed early. Around nine. After that I stopped up and watched television. I’d videoed a documentary on the rain forest. Mother tends to talk through programmes which don’t interest her.’
‘You didn’t go out?’
‘No.’
‘You seem to have a very clear memory of what you did that night,’ Vera said.
‘I do have a good memory. I told you on Friday night, I’m good at detail.’
‘Do you drive?’
‘I can drive. I mean, I passed my test and I hold a driving licence. But I don’t enjoy it. I’m always aware of the potential danger. And I have a conscience about the environment. Greenhouse gases. I decided a couple of years ago to do without a car. Public transport’s quite good into the city centre. And I have a bike.’
Vera could tell Clive was uncomfortable. Although the building was gloomy and cool, he’d started to sweat. He fidgeted with the scalpel on the board in front of him. She told herself not to read too much into it. This was probably the longest conversation he’d had with anyone other than his mother for years. When he was with his friends, he’d be a listener not a talker. Now, she kept her voice easy, gossipy. His mother would probably enjoy a good gossip.
‘Did Gary tell you about his new woman?’
The change of tone in the question seemed to surprise him and he took a moment to answer. ‘He told us all about it.’ He paused. ‘It wasn’t unusual. There’s always some new woman in his life. He’s mad about all of them. For about a week. None of them stay.’
‘He said this one’s different,’ Vera said.
Clive smiled again. Like smiling was something he did about once every six months. ‘That’s what he always says. Ever since Emily left he’s been looking for someone to replace her.’
‘Emily?’
‘They were engaged. She dumped him.’
‘Did you know Julie, the latest girlfriend?’
‘No. He doesn’t take me out on his dates.’
‘Her son was the lad who was murdered,’ Vera said. ‘Strangled. Like Lily Marsh.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘I don’t suppose you know a family called the Sharps?’ she said, not really expecting a response.
‘Davy Sharp lives in our road. When he’s not in prison.’
‘You came across the boy, Thomas?’
‘I saw him about. My mother looked after him sometimes when he was a baby. She took a shine to him. He was there sometimes when I got home from work. Not recently, of course. Not once he was old enough to fend for himself.’
‘She must have been upset when he died.’
‘Yes, we went down to the river. She’d seen the flowers on the water on the news and wanted to see. To pay her respects.’ He paused. ‘There wasn’t much to look at when we got there. The tide was on its way out. It had carried the flowers out to sea.’
They sat in silence. Through the open window came the sound of a siren, shouted voices.
‘Tell me about these mates of yours,’ Vera said at last. ‘Gary, Peter and Samuel. They are your mates? Only you don’t seem to have much in common. Except the birding.’
‘We’re close. Like family.’
‘With you and Gary as brothers and Samuel and Peter as mummy and daddy?’
‘Don’t be ridiculous!’
She knew she was pushing him, wanted to see if he ever lost that control. He was very flushed.
‘OK, then,’ she said. ‘So they’re not really like family. Tell me why you get on so well together, what it is that’s kept you together over all these years.’ She was really interested and it showed. She wasn’t sure about friendship. She had colleagues, the people she’d grown up with, who lived close to her in the valley. But no one she felt any obligation to, no one she had to put herself out for. She thought it could be a two-edged sword, friendship. You’d end up giving more than you got.
‘Partly it’s the birding,’ he said. ‘People outside don’t understand. They think you must be geeky, weird. But it’s more than that. Although we’re very different, we trust each other. I feel supported by them.’
She gave a chuckle. ‘Eh, pet, you’ve lost me now. That sounds like something from a women’s magazine.’
