Silent Voices

aside, then let Vera into a large entrance hall. On the wall facing the door was a painting that drew Vera to stare at it. A small water-colour of stone gateposts with a grassy track curving away between them. Vera thought the track was inviting. You’d want to follow it. But in the painting it didn’t seem to be leading anywhere. On the gateposts were carved birds’ heads. Cormorants, maybe. Long necks and long beaks.
    ‘Where’s that?’ Vera asked.
    ‘It’s the entrance to Greenhough, my grandfather’s house,’ the woman said.
    ‘Very grand.’
    ‘Not any more. There was a fire in the Thirties. The only thing left now is a boathouse. And those gates.’
    Veronica deliberately turned her back on the painting. She led Vera down a cool corridor and into the kitchen. Servants’ quarters , Vera thought. So that’s how she thinks of me. Without being asked, the inspector took a seat at the head of the table. ‘Jenny Lister’s dead. Murdered. That’s why your lad’s run off: to take care of Hannah.’
    The woman’s face gave nothing away. Another small frown that expressed distaste rather than shock. Slowly she sat down too. The chairs were pale wood to match the table, upholstered in grey. Expensive and classy enough, if you wanted a kitchen that looked like a businessman’s boardroom. The appliances were all at one end, half a mile away, and were stainless-steel and very big.
    ‘I see,’ Veronica said at last. ‘One of her clients, I suppose. I’ve really never understood why anyone would choose to become a social worker. Think of the people you have to deal with. Look at Connie Masters.’
    That name again. Vera made a note to check it out when she finally got to the office. Social workers had never been her favourite people, but now, in the face of this woman’s attitude, she had an urge to defend Jenny Lister.
    She was forming a comment when Veronica spoke again: ‘It’s sad of course, but at least now there’ll be an end to the ridiculous idea of a wedding!’
    ‘You don’t like Hannah Lister?’ Vera was surprised. She’d taken to the girl immediately, had thought: If I had a son and he’d taken up with a lass like that, I’d be pleased as Punch.
    ‘Oh, she’s nice enough, but they’re both so young. And I always thought Simon could do better for himself. He’s at Durham. There are some lovely young women at his college.’ She looked wistful.
    My God! Vera thought. Hannah’s right. She’s a real old-fashioned snob. I thought the species had died out years ago.
    ‘And Mrs Lister approved of the engagement, did she? That wasn’t the impression I had from Hannah.’
    ‘You could never tell with Jenny. Typical social worker. Sitting on the fence. She said she thought they were too young, but I don’t think she did enough to keep them apart. During the holidays Simon practically lives there. Hannah’s still a schoolgirl. Jenny seemed to realize how ridiculous the relationship was, but she still encouraged Simon into the house.’
    ‘What does your husband make of the relationship?’ Because there must be a husband, Vera thought. Someone to make the money, to keep Veronica in expensive cosmetics and smart new furniture.
    ‘Oh, Christopher works away a lot. He’s seldom here. He’s only met Hannah a couple of times.’
    ‘Did Hannah and Simon meet at school?’
    ‘No. Hannah was at the comprehensive in Hexham.’ Veronica almost sniffed. ‘We sent Simon to the Royal Grammar in town.’
    ‘That must have cost you a bit.’
    Vera made the comment under her breath and Veronica pretended not to hear it. She continued: ‘They met through music. There’s a scheme for young musicians at the Sage. Simon started giving Hannah lifts home after rehearsals. Then there was a music tour of northern Italy and they came back besotted with each other. They’ve been living in each other’s pockets ever since.’
    Vera thought of some of the youngsters she came into contact with at work: the druggies and boozers, the thieves and the fighters, the mothers on sink estates sick with worry. She thought Veronica Eliot had little to complain about. ‘Any idea why someone would want to kill Jenny Lister?’ she asked suddenly. Because so far she’d come across nothing near to a motive. Before Veronica could begin another rant about social-services clients, Vera added, ‘She worked with kids apparently, so at the moment we don’t think the murder is work-related. How did she get on with