Silent Voices

services.’
    ‘But not a gossip,’ Maurice stammered. ‘Not really.’
    ‘Well, she knows more than she lets on.’ Cuthbert was indulgent. ‘That’s certainly true.’
    ‘Would she talk to me, do you think?’ Ashworth was certain he could winkle information from the formidable Hilda. Old ladies loved him. ‘I mean, I wouldn’t want to disturb her if she’s busy, but you can tell how urgent it is.’
    Maurice hesitated.
    ‘Come on, Mo!’ Cuthbert said. ‘A chance to talk to a bonny lad like this. She’d jump at it. You’ll be in more bother if you don’t take him to see her. Besides, she’ll have all the vacuuming done by now, and the washing’ll be on the line. She’ll be sat watching some nonsense on the telly with a cup of coffee.’
    Maurice smiled his lopsided smile and got to his feet.
    Hilda hadn’t quite finished the housework. When they arrived she was mopping the kitchen floor. They stood in the hall and saw her wide bottom, swaying to the movement of the mop.
    ‘What’s all this about?’ Fierce, but concerned too. Maybe she thought Maurice had been taken ill again.
    ‘It’s about Jenny Lister,’ Cuthbert said.
    Hilda gave him a sharp look that Ashworth couldn’t quite interpret. She made them stand in the hall while she finished the floor, then took them straight into the small living room, leaving the door open so she could shout through to them from the kitchen. It could have been Ashworth’s nana’s house. Gleaming dark-wood furniture, and everywhere lace mats. On the wall embroidered samplers. A smell of beeswax and peppermint. The window was small and covered with a net curtain that let in very little light.
    ‘Tea or coffee?’ She’d emptied her bucket and was polishing the floor dry.
    Maurice grinned at Cuthbert. It seemed they’d made the right decision.
    The coffee was very weak, instant made with warm milk, but there were home-made flapjacks and scones still warm, with so much butter that it drizzled over their fingers as they ate. The cakes in the tea shop had been hardly a mouthful.
    ‘Who’s this then?’
    ‘He’s the police.’ Maurice looked at her anxiously.
    ‘Well, I guessed that much!’ She turned to Ashworth. ‘I suppose you have a name.’
    So he introduced himself and answered her questions about where he’d been born and where he lived. It seemed she’d worked at Parson’s as a secretary when she was younger and had known one of his aunts.
    ‘What do you want to know then? I’m guessing it’ll be about Jenny Lister.’
    ‘Whatever you can tell me,’ Ashworth said. ‘We don’t always know the best questions to ask.’
    Hilda took off her apron, sat on a high-backed chair and folded her hands on her lap. When she spoke it was with the concentration of a Mastermind contestant answering questions on her specialist subject. ‘Jenny Lister moved into the village in . . .’ a very brief pause ‘. . . 1993. The summer. Hannah was a baby, and Jenny was still on maternity leave.’ Another pause and a little sniff to show she disapproved of the concept. A touch of jealousy? Ashworth wondered. If I’d had bairns, I’d have stayed at home and looked after them myself. ‘The father, Jenny’s husband, had gone back to London, where he’d come from.’
    The same sort of history as Connie Masters, Joe Ashworth thought. Her man left her while she had a young child. Was the shared experience relevant? Or would the stress of holding together a marriage, a new child and a stressful job be too much for most relationships? Maybe it happened all the time. His wife hadn’t worked since their first child had been born. He couldn’t imagine how he’d survive if she were out all day. It seemed strange to him that he’d never realized how much he depended on her holding the show together.
    Hilda continued. ‘Jenny was what they called a generic social worker in those days. She dealt with everything. Then there was a change in the system and she specialized in children. She ended up as the fostering and adoption officer.’ She looked at Ashworth through small, square spectacles. ‘But you’ll know that already.’
    He nodded. ‘All the same, it’s useful to have someone sum it up.’ The other men might as well not have been in the room. Maurice seemed to be dropping off to sleep. The lorries rolling past the window provided a background rumble.
    ‘She had a boyfriend,’ Hilda said suddenly. ‘Lawrence. Worked as a ranger with the National