Silent Voices

Rotterdam.’
    ‘But your son’s home for the Easter holidays?’ Connie thought the art of social intercourse wasn’t so hard after all. The skill was coming back to her.
    Again there was a pause, a quick appraising glance. No answer this time, but Veronica had a question of her own. ‘Did you know Simon, my son, was going out with Jenny Lister’s daughter?’
    ‘No!’ Connie took a while to process the information. The photo on Jenny’s desk had been of a slight, red-haired child, but of course now she’d be older, a young woman. ‘How dreadful all this must be for her! I never met her, but I had the impression that she and Jenny were very close.’
    Veronica reached over and poured a little more wine into her visitor’s glass. ‘I suppose you went to visit Jenny. You were almost neighbours after all.’ Connie saw she was drinking very little herself.
    ‘No! I didn’t even know she lived in the village.’ If I say it often enough, will people believe me?
    Veronica did seem to believe her, because suddenly she relaxed and gave a thin, wide smile, a red crescent tipped on its back. ‘Ah, so you weren’t good friends then.’
    ‘I don’t think Jenny made friends with anyone she worked with. A deliberate choice to keep home and work separate.’
    ‘Very wise. That’s my husband’s philosophy too. I know hardly anyone from his office.’
    She sounded wistful and Connie thought how bored and lonely Veronica must be. Her son independent and no longer needy, her husband never at home. No wonder she haunted the playgroup committee and the WI. How else could she believe herself useful? Connie almost felt sorry for her, then she remembered the hostile glares from the playgroup mothers, the snide remarks. She couldn’t forgive so easily after all.
    Veronica continued: ‘I host dinner parties, of course, for his clients, but that’s rather different. That’s just an extension of his work. As if he’d moved the office here for the night.’ At last she poured herself a full glass of wine. A pale light from the garden shone through it and gave it a greenish tinge. ‘I don’t mind. I’m glad to support him.’
    ‘Work followed me home rather uncomfortably over the past couple of years.’ Connie turned her attention from the glass to Veronica. She’d decided she wasn’t ready to let this woman off the hook entirely, that after all she couldn’t exchange months of catty comments for a peaceful lunch. ‘There was no rest from it and no escape. I’d hoped there’d be some respite after I moved here, but of course the scandal followed me. People who only knew part of the story were very unkind.’
    ‘People felt very strongly,’ Veronica said. ‘They always do when there’s a child involved.’ The response was sharp and swift.
    ‘I made a mistake at work.’ Why did she feel the need to justify herself? ‘Other people, who earn a load more money than I ever did, make mistakes at work, but they don’t get their picture all over the newspapers.’
    ‘But a child died!’ It came out as a wail and Connie thought this was more personal. Veronica’s campaign against her hadn’t just been the interference of a busybody. Had she lost a baby, had a miscarriage, a stillbirth? Alice, startled by the noise, looked up from her game. Seeing the women, still apparently in friendly conversation at the table, she returned to it.
    ‘Yes,’ Connie said quietly. ‘A child died. And I’ve thought about that every day since. I didn’t need you to remind me.’
    They sat for a moment in silence. Outside, the sun slid from behind thin cloud and there was a startling light, brilliant on the damp grass, making all the colours garish and unreal. Veronica stood up and opened a window and the sudden sound of a blackbird outside seemed almost deafening.
    ‘I worry about Simon,’ she said. ‘I don’t want him caught up in all this. He has an academic career ahead of him. He insists on staying with Hannah at the house. I’ve invited her here, but she says she wants to feel close to her mother. That seems morbid. Her father has said she should stay with him, but she won’t go.’
    Connie didn’t know what to say. I’m the last person to give you advice about your child. Alice, suddenly bored, got up from the floor and climbed onto her mother’s knee. She put her thumb in her mouth and was almost asleep. Connie stroked her forehead. She was aware of Veronica watching them, almost greedily.
    ‘How lucky