Silent Voices

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    ‘Yeah, my dad left when I was a kid.’ The girl had red hair, that opaque cream skin that often goes with it. She was wearing jeans and a long cotton top with flowers on it. Bare feet. She was so skinny it was hard to put an age on her. School sixth form maybe. But pleasant and polite. None of that adolescent rage you read about. She was still standing, leaning against the windowsill, looking outside.
    ‘Sit down,’ Vera said. ‘What’s your name, pet?’
    ‘Hannah.’ The girl chose a seat opposite to Vera’s. ‘Will you please tell me what all this is about.’
    ‘There’s no easy way of telling you this, I’m afraid, hinny. Your mother is dead.’ Vera leaned across the table and took Hannah’s hands in hers. No point in saying how sorry she was. What good would that do? She’d been younger than this lass when her own mother had died. But at least she’d had Hector. Hector had been a self-centred bastard, but he’d been better than no one.
    ‘No!’ The girl looked at her almost as if she pitied Vera for having made such a ridiculous mistake. ‘My mother’s not ill. She’s fit for her age. She swims, does Pilates, dances. She’s just taken a flamenco class.’ She paused. ‘A road accident then? But she’s a dead careful driver. Neurotic. You’ve probably got the wrong person.’
    ‘Does she belong to the health club at the Willows?’
    ‘Yes, I bought her membership. She was forty the birthday before last. I wanted something special, did a guilt trip on Dad and squeezed the money out of him.’ The girl seemed finally to believe what she had been told, stared at Vera in horror.
    ‘She didn’t die of natural causes.’ Vera looked at her to check she understood what she was saying, watched the silent tears roll down the perfect cheeks. The girl seemed unable to speak and Vera continued: ‘She was murdered, Hannah. Someone killed her. This is hard. Too hard for anyone to bear, but I have to ask you questions. It’s my job to find out who killed her. And the sooner I know all about her, the sooner I can do that.’
    ‘Can I see her?’
    ‘Of course. I’ll take you to the hospital myself if you like. But that won’t be possible until later this evening or maybe tomorrow.’
    Hannah sat opposite Vera with her back to the window. The sun lit up her hair, like a halo.
    ‘Would you like me to ask your father to come round?’ Best do this by the book.
    ‘No. He’s in London. That’s where he lives now.’
    ‘How old are you, Hannah?’
    ‘Eighteen.’ She answered automatically, too stunned to question Vera’s right to ask.
    A responsible adult then. No need for a minder. Not legally. But all the same, she just looked like a bairn. ‘Is there anyone else you’d like with you? A relative?’
    She looked up. ‘Simon. Please get me Simon.’
    ‘Who’s he, then?’
    ‘Simon Eliot. My boyfriend.’ She paused. Then, despite her sadness and confusion, she corrected herself, taking a small comfort from the idea. ‘My fiancé.’
    Vera felt like smiling. It seemed like they were playing mothers and fathers. Who got married that young any more? But she kept her voice serious. ‘Live local, does he?’
    ‘His parents have the big white house at the other end of the village. You’ll have passed it on the way in. He’s a student in Durham. Home for the Easter holidays.’
    ‘Why don’t you give him a ring? Ask him to come round. Or do you want me to speak to him?’ Vera was thinking the lad’s parents would look after Hannah if there was nobody else. At least until they could contact the father and bring him back from London. Hannah already had her mobile out and was punching out the numbers. At the last minute, as it started ringing, she passed it back to Vera. ‘Do you mind? I can’t talk about it. What would I say?’
    ‘Hello, you.’ A deeper voice than Vera was expecting, warm and sexy. It came to her suddenly that nobody had ever spoken to her like that.
    ‘This is Inspector Vera Stanhope from Northumbria Police. There’s been a sudden death. Hannah’s mother. Hannah asked me to contact you. I wondered if you’d come round. She needs someone with her.’
    ‘I’ll be there.’ The phone went dead. No messing. Vera was glad Hannah hadn’t taken up with a fool.
    ‘He’s on his way,’ she said.
    While they waited for him, Vera made tea. She was desperate for a cup, and the pasty hadn’t done much to stop her hunger. This was a house where there’d be