Silent Voices

friends,’ Holly said, her mouth still full of cake. ‘Apparently he was a bright lad, but cocky. A tad arrogant. The teachers wouldn’t say, but you could tell they couldn’t stand him. The kids were a bit more forgiving. He was like leader of the gang. The show-off. But they admired him more than they liked him. I had the impression he was considered very cool, but a bit self-centred. Good for a fun night out, but not for a long-term friendship.’
    That word again.
    ‘What about the relationship with Hannah?’ Vera was still taking notes. She wanted this clear in her head.
    ‘She wasn’t his first girlfriend, they were all clear about that. But she was the first girl he really cared for. And the first time he’d been dumped, apparently. It came as a shock to the system. Not what he’d been expecting at all.’
    ‘Did he blame Simon Eliot?’ Vera thought this could be important. She looked at Holly and hoped she was taking the question seriously. ‘It does look as if Hannah dumped him for Simon.’
    ‘Danny was probably pissed off at the time, but more recently they seem to have got on OK. People have seen them knocking around together in the university holidays. It’s not really a big deal at that age, is it?’
    Which was what Hannah had said too.
    ‘So nobody thought Danny had a grudge against the Eliot boy? He could be one to harbour a grudge.’
    ‘Nah,’ Holly said. ‘I didn’t get the impression there was anything like that.’
    Vera gave a little sigh, which reminded Holly of her nana playing patience. Sometimes, when she played out all the cards, she made a noise that was exactly the same as the one Vera made now.
    ‘Any of them heard of Michael Morgan?’ Vera asked after a brief pause. ‘Do we know if Danny had contact with him before he started working in the hotel?’
    ‘They didn’t recognize the name.’ Holly set her plate on the floor beside her. ‘But that doesn’t mean anything. They said that Danny liked to be mysterious about what he got up to. Part of his image. Sometimes he disappeared off the radar for days and nobody knew what he’d been up to.’ She looked at Vera. ‘Sorry, it’s not much, is it? I can carry on asking around if you think it’s important.’
    ‘Why don’t you get home early?’ Vera said. ‘It’ll be bloody nightmare on the roads with all this standing water, and you’ll have a long day tomorrow.’
    She had the satisfaction of seeing Holly lost for words. For once.
    Vera hadn’t heard from Charlie all morning and she summoned him in to the Willows after Holly had gone. She saw him walk from his car and up the steps, with that stooped posture he always had, as if he were looking out for dog shit on the pavement before he put down his feet. By now the sunshine and the rainbow had gone and it was almost dark, though it was still only the middle of the afternoon. Doreen had padded round the lounge switching on small table lamps. Charlie stood at the entrance to the room, peering into the gloom, and Vera called him over. She’d always had a bit of a soft spot for him. Perhaps it was something to do with the fact that his private life was even more of a failure than hers. He made her feel good.
    ‘Tea?’ she said. ‘Or could you use something a bit stronger?’
    ‘What are you having?’ Charlie had never really mastered the art of being gracious and the words came out as an aggressive grunt.
    ‘Oh, it’s a bit early for me,’ she said virtuously, ‘and I’m drowning with tea, but I’ll get you something.’
    ‘Tea then.’ He looked at her suspiciously.
    ‘Have you found Connie, that social worker, yet?’
    ‘I found her car. Or at least I saw it a couple of times on CCTV. There’s a camera in Effingham, the village east of Barnard Bridge. A little lass was killed on the zebra crossing and the parish council paid to have one installed.’ Doreen had brought him a plate of biscuits with his tea and he dipped one in the cup before eating it whole.
    ‘And where was the other camera?’ Sometimes, Vera thought, patience was the only way to deal with Charlie.
    ‘There was only one, but the car appeared on it twice.’ The second biscuit crumbled and fell into the tea before he had a chance to eat it. He swore under his breath and scooped it out with his spoon.
    ‘Why don’t you explain to me, Charlie? Words of one syllable. I’m a bit brain-dead after spending most of the day in this place.’
    ‘Yesterday, nine o’clock in