‘Perhaps she had something else on that night,’ Max suggested.
‘Yes, that’s possible. She’s pregnant, too, so perhaps she’s not doing much socializing at the moment.’ Her earlier thoughts came back to her. ‘Could a woman have killed him? I mean, would you have to be particularly strong or anything?’
‘It’s possible. A good blow from behind, so long as it had the element of surprise, wouldn’t have needed all that much weight or force. Then a couple more for good measure. Yes, it could have been a woman, I imagine.’ He took his eyes from the road briefly to look at her. ‘Are you thinking of Phoebe?’
‘It was just a thought.’
‘Yes. I had the same one.’
Jill grabbed the bouquet of flowers from the back seat of her car, held them close against her chest in an attempt to protect them from the wind, locked the car, and ran up the drive to Hannah and Gordon Brooks’ house.
The doorbell was answered almost immediately by a tired-looking Gordon.
‘Jill, how lovely to see you. Come in.’
‘No, thanks, Gordon, I don’t want to intrude. I just wanted to say how very sorry I am for your loss. I only heard this afternoon. I’m so sorry.’
‘Thank you. But come in, please. Hannah would love to see you.’
His hand was on her arm and she had the feeling that, if she resisted, he would pull her inside by force. She guessed they were struggling to come to terms with the tragedy and finding it difficult to be in each other’s company for long stretches.
‘Thank you,’ she said, stepping inside.
Although Jill didn’t know him well, she’d always liked Gordon. Their first meeting had been at a lecture to Kelton Bridge’s local history society. Jill had only gone along because Ella had organized the event and had begged as many people as possible to support it. Gordon was a stalwart member of the society and had welcomed Jill and introduced her to several people.
He worked in Manchester for a firm that specialized in buying foreign properties, mostly in Spain and France, for people wanting to retire to the sun. He was quietly spoken, friendly and unassuming, and Jill had gained the impression that Hannah made all the decisions in their household.
‘Hannah’s in the lounge,’ he told her, ushering her through the hallway.
Hannah had been lying on the sofa, a duvet wrapped around her, but she stood when she saw Jill and went forward to give her a hug.
‘Are these for me?’ she asked. ‘Oh, Jill, you shouldn’t have. They’re gorgeous.’
‘They’re nothing,’ Jill told her. ‘I’m sure you could open a florist’s by now, but I always think flowers cheer a house. I’m so sorry, Hannah.’
‘Thank you.’
Hannah couldn’t quite meet her gaze. She was a strong character and Jill suspected that she could cope admirably until people said a kind word. That was often when people lost the tight control they had on their emotions.
‘I do have a few,’ Hannah went on, nodding at three floral displays in the room, ‘but you’re right, they do cheer the place up. Everyone’s been so kind,’ she added. ‘Let me see to these.’
Jill followed her into the kitchen where Hannah set about arranging the flowers with great care. Perhaps it helped to take her mind off everything.
‘I was speaking to Ella this afternoon,’ Jill explained, ‘and she mentioned that you’d come home from hospital this morning. She was horrified to learn that I didn’t know. News might travel fast in Kelton, but it didn’t reach me.’
Hannah carried on arranging her flowers. In her early thirties, she was conservative in everything, from her dress sense to her politics. Jill suspected she would love to break out of the constraints imposed by being the local Tory candidate and go wild for a few hours or days. She was attractive, and usually took great care with her appearance, but this evening she looked as bad as she must feel. Her hair was unbrushed, her face was devoid of make-up, and her eyes were red from crying and surrounded by dark circles from lack of sleep.
‘I saw Jack yesterday,’ Jill said. ‘I hope he didn’t think I was being rude, but of course, I hadn’t heard. Strange that he didn’t mention it.’
‘Not really,’ Hannah said, standing back to assess her arrangement. ‘It’s hit him hard. He was really excited about the birth of his first great-grandchild.’
‘That’s understandable,’ Jill said.
All the same, she thought Jack would have mentioned it.
‘And people don’t talk about miscarriages,’ Hannah added bitterly.
‘It’s difficult,’ Jill said, taken aback by her tone.
‘Will you stay for a drink?’ Hannah asked. ‘We were just about to open a bottle of wine.’
‘Thanks, but no. I’m sure you don’t want company.’
‘Please stay,’ Hannah implored her. ‘Company is exactly what we need.’
‘Well, if you’re sure. I rarely turn down a glass of wine.’
Hannah smiled at that. ‘White or red?’
‘Whatever you were planning to open.’
Hannah carried the flowers into the lounge and placed them on a table beneath the window.
‘They’re gorgeous,’ she said. ‘Thank you so much, Jill.’
She turned to Gordon. ‘Are you going to open that bottle of wine then?’
‘Of course.’
He smiled, somewhat sheepishly Jill thought, and went off to the kitchen. When he returned, he carried three glasses of red wine.
The atmosphere in the room was heavy with tension. Jill wasn’t surprised. People often said that grief brought people together. In her experience, it was more likely to tear them apart.
Hannah knocked back her glass of wine and immediately went to the kitchen for the bottle and a refill.
‘Gordon thinks it’s my fault,” she said as she filled her glass. ‘He says I overdid things.’
‘Hannah!’ Gordon was as appalled as Jill was embarrassed. ‘Of course it wasn’t your fault, sweetheart. Yes, I think you overdid things but—’
He broke off before he said anything more. He blamed her for overdoing things, but not for losing the baby.
‘I went out for a walk on Wednesday afternoon,’ she explained, ‘and yes, I was tired when I got home.’
‘Where did you go?’ Jill asked casually.
Bradley Johnson had been murdered that afternoon but, after an inner debate, Jill decided it showed an appalling lack of taste to ask if she’d seen Bradley Johnson or anyone acting suspiciously.
‘Oh, all over,’ she replied vaguely. ‘Into Bacup, into the park there.’
‘I should have taken her to hospital that night,’ Gordon said, his expression bleak as he stared into the depths of his red wine. ‘Hannah would have none of it, though.’
‘I felt fine,’ she muttered.
‘And on Thursday morning—’ Again, Gordon left the sentence unfinished.
On Thursday morning, Hannah had been rushed into hospital where she had lost her unborn child.
‘As tragic as it is,’ Jill said calmly, ‘it’s no one’s fault.’
‘It’s my fault,’ Hannah retorted. ‘We’re all agreed on that. But hey,’ she added, raising her glass, ‘at least now that I’m no longer pregnant, I can have a drink.’
Moisture glistened in her eyes as she spoke and Jill took a large swallow of her wine. She had to get out and leave these people to their grief.
‘We were talking about Bradley Johnson before you arrived,’ Gordon said, changing the subject. ‘What a dreadful thing to happen.’
‘
You
were talking about him,’ Hannah corrected him.
Jill thought it wise to ignore that.
‘It’s awful, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘I didn’t know him well, but I always liked Phoebe. It’s just dreadful. A terrible shock for her.’
‘Yes.’ Hannah’s voice was clipped.
‘You must have known him well, Hannah,’ Jill went on. ‘He was going to help with your campaign, wasn’t he?’
‘He was,’ Gordon said, ‘and it’s just impossible to accept what’s happened. He was a great support to Hannah.’ He patted his wife’s hand and smiled. ‘Still, with or without him, we’ll have you elected, darling.’
The doorbell rang and Jill took another swallow of her wine as she sensed escape beckoning.
Jack Taylor came into the room, preceded by his collie. The dog ran up to Hannah and licked her face.
‘Sally! Get off!’ Laughing affectionately, she hugged the dog.
‘Well?’ Jack said. ‘Oh, hello, Jill,’ he added.
‘Hello, Jack.’
‘Take your coat off, Granddad,’ Hannah said.
‘No, I’m not stopping,’ he said. ‘I’m on my way up to Archie’s. I just thought I’d check to see as you got home OK.’
‘Safe and sound, as you can see.’
‘Good.’
‘You’ll at least stop for a drink, won’t you, Jack?’ Gordon asked, his hand on the bottle.
‘No, thanks. Not now.’
‘What’s the weather doing?’ Hannah asked him. ‘They’ve promised snow.’
‘Ay, and I wouldn’t be surprised if we don’t get some. Not that we have proper snow these days. I remember the days it were up over the walls on the Burnley Road. And that were nothing unusual.’
‘It’ll be this global warming,’ Hannah teased him.
‘Stuff and nonsense,’ he retorted. ‘Global warming? Pah. These politicians do dream up some rubbish.’
‘Scientists have dreamt that up, Granddad.’
‘And they’re just as bad,’ Jack retorted.
Jill was intrigued by the exchange. Hannah was teasing; Jack couldn’t meet her gaze. What was all that about?
‘We were just talking about Bradley Johnson,’ Gordon put in. ‘Have you heard anything, Jack?’
‘No, and I can’t say as I’m interested in it, either.’ He clicked his fingers and Sally ran to his side. ‘Right, I’ll be off now then. I’ll maybe pop in tomorrow, Hannah.’
‘Take care, Granddad. And thanks for calling. Maybe you’ll manage to stay for a few minutes tomorrow,’ she added drily.
‘I will,’ he called over his shoulder.
Gordon showed him out and then returned to the lounge.
‘Is he all right, do you think?’ he asked, looking to both of them for an answer. ‘He seemed a bit off.’
‘He’ll be fine,’ Hannah told him. ‘He’ll be more upset than he lets on about losing his first great-grandchild.’
‘I realize that. It’s one reason I asked about Bradley Johnson, so that we could talk about something else.’ He sighed. ‘Stupid idea, I suppose. He wasn’t Johnson’s biggest fan, was he? He’s never liked the idea of foreigners moving into the village.’
‘He’ll be fine,’ she said again. ‘Archie will cheer him up.’
‘They’re close, aren’t they?’ Jill said, smiling. ‘Jack and Archie.’
‘Almost joined at the hip,’ Hannah replied. ‘They went to school together, worked down the pit together, walked every inch of the hills together. They’re as thick as thieves, those two.’
Jill emptied her glass.
‘Thanks so much for the wine,’ she said, getting to her feet, ‘but I’ll have to get off now.’
‘Stay for another,’ Hannah said.
‘I’d love to, but I can’t. Really.’ She gave Hannah a quick hug. ‘Take care of yourself, Hannah, and if there’s anything I can do, anything at all, just call in or give me a ring.’
‘Thanks, Jill.’ Again, Hannah couldn’t quite meet her gaze.
Jill was glad to escape into the bitterly cold wind. She was still standing under the canopy above the front door, hunting in her pocket for her car keys, when she heard Hannah’s voice raised in fury.
‘For Christ’s sake, Gordon, can’t we talk about something else?’
Shivering, Jill dashed to her car.
The following morning, Max was back at Kelton Manor.
‘Let’s make this quick,’ Jill muttered. She was standing by his side as he hammered on the door, rubbing her chilled hands together for warmth. ‘I want to see Ella before I head off for Styal.’
Today, the door was opened by Tyler Johnson and Max thought he looked surprised, and far from happy to see them.
‘Mum’s out,’ he explained.
‘Yes, she mentioned that yesterday.’ Which was why Max was there. ‘It’s you and your brother we’d like to talk to.’
‘Us? About what?’
It looked as if, given the choice, he would have slammed the door in their faces.
‘May we come inside?’ Max asked.
With some reluctance, Tyler held open the door and they stepped inside. Max was grateful for that as it was another bitterly cold day. According to the weather forecasters, it was actually warmer today, but the strong north wind was simply making it feel colder.
He had expected to be taken into the sitting room but Tyler, his hands in the back pockets of his jeans, swaggered towards the kitchen.
Max was aware of Jill gazing in wonder at the furnishings and array of appliances. Not that she could have used any of them—the kitchen was a foreign land to Jill. This room was vast, though. The table at which Keiran sat was a long, oblong mahogany one with eight chairs lined up. The rest of the kitchen featured a huge picture window, green Aga, walk-in freezer—
‘Is everything all right?’ Keiran asked, and Max dragged his attention from the wine rack that held thirty bottles of exceptionally fine red.
‘Just a couple of questions,’ he told him. ‘What I’m trying to do is eliminate as many people as possible. Now, we know you arrived here on Thursday morning, yes? What time would that have been?’
‘It was just after eleven,’ Tyler said.
‘That’s right,’ Keiran agreed.
‘The thing is,’ Max said, ‘your mother said she called you to let you know your father was missing at nine thirty that morning. You’re at Lancaster University, Keiran, is that right?’
He nodded.
‘And you’re at Sheffield, Tyler. Now what I can’t understand is how you could speak to your mother, pack a few things, drive from Sheffield to Lancaster to pick up your brother and then drive down here in an hour and a half. While I can appreciate that, with so much on your mind, you might have ignored the odd speed limit or two, you still couldn’t do it in an hour and a half. It’s about a hundred miles from Sheffield to Lancaster so that’s getting on for two hours. Then, from Lancaster to Kelton would take you another hour.’
‘OK.’ Tyler sighed heavily as if all this was far beneath him. ‘I’d been staying with Keiran in Lancaster for a couple of days.’
‘Mum wouldn’t have minded,’ Keiran put in quickly. ‘It was Dad who would have objected.’