“You must have missed him. It wasn’t like Emma living just up the road.”
“I did,” Mary said. “Very much.”
“Whose idea was it to go to the lifeboat fundraiser?”
“Robert’s. A last-minute decision. He felt, I think, that we all needed cheering up. This weather is so depressing. It gets you down in the end. And Emma has been tied to the house since Matthew was born.”
“Were you friends with Mr. Mantel?”
“Friends? No!” The idea seemed impossible to her.
“Your daughters were once close friends. I wondered if you’d got to know each other socially at that time.”
“No, he’s very busy, isn’t he? And rather grand in that smart house with his shiny car. I’m not sure we’d have had very much in common. I mean, we knew him to say hello to. We bumped into him at village events. But there was always an awkwardness. It was ridiculous, I know, but I always felt guilty when we met.”
“Because your daughter was alive and his wasn’t?”
She looked up gratefully. “Yes, exactly that.” There was a moment of silence then she added, “Now, I suppose we have both suffered the loss of a child and perhaps I’ll feel differently.”
The kettle suddenly whistled. Vera found the noise unbearable and had to force herself not to leap to her feet and move it from the heat. For a moment Mary seemed not to hear it. At last she got up to make tea.
“Can you talk us through yesterday evening?” Vera asked when Mary settled at the table again. “From arriving at the Old Chapel, if you wouldn’t mind.”
“We parked in the lane with everyone else and walked round to the back of the house. There was a queue of people waiting to meet Keith and his young girlfriend. As if we were at one of those weddings, where the bride and groom stand at the door of the reception to greet their guests. Or as if they were royalty.”
“You sound as if you don’t like Mr. Mantel very much.”
“Do I?” Mary frowned. “I don’t mean to.”
“How did you feel about Emma and Abigail becoming friends?”
“We were relieved that Emma had found a friend at all. We’d underestimated, I think, how much the move from York would upset her.” She paused for a moment. “It effected both the children in different ways. Emma had become rather withdrawn before she met Abigail.”
“But was Abigail the sort of girl you would have chosen as a suitable companion?”
“Why not? She was different in temperament from our daughter. More confident. More flamboyant, perhaps. But we knew nothing against her. I was more worried, I think, that she would suddenly become bored by Emma and drop her for someone else. I don’t think Emma could have coped with that.”
Vera let that line of questioning go and returned to the evening before. “So you greeted Keith and his girlfriend? What happened then?”
“We helped ourselves to drinks and tried to join in. There were lots of old friends. People from the church. Robert’s quite a public figure because he’s a warden. He’s well known in the village. I stayed indoors for a while. Most of the older people were sitting in there. Outside it was cold and rather rowdy. Noisy music. I chatted to a couple of women from the Mothers’ Union, then I went to find Robert.”
“Are you sure Christopher wasn’t there?”
“I can’t be. There was quite a crowd by the time I went out. And it was dark of course. The people in the field by the fire were just shadows.”
“Did you notice Caroline Fletcher?”
“I’m sorry. That name doesn’t mean anything to me.”
“She was the police inspector who investigated Abigail Mantel’s murder.”
, “Of course. I’d forgotten the name. I should have remembered. She was supportive at the time of the trial. Was she there? I’m not sure I’d have recognized her. Not after all this time. Does that mean she’d kept in touch with Mr. Mantel? How thoughtful!”
Aye,” Vera muttered. “That’s one way of putting it.”
“Why did you go out into the lane, Mrs. Winter?”
Ashworth spoke for the first time and Mary seemed thrown. She looked towards Vera as if she needed permission to answer.
Vera smiled encouragingly.
“I wasn’t really enjoying myself,” Mary said. “I never do, these days, in crowded places. It’s strange how things change, isn’t it? When we were younger, I’d have loved it… I asked Robert if we could leave. I was sure someone else would give Emma and James a lift back to the village. I said I was cold, which was true, but an excuse too, I’m afraid. Robert took me at my word. He said there was a thicker jacket in the car. He offered to fetch it but I took the keys and went myself. I was glad of a few moments alone.”
“What made you look in the ditch?” Ashworth asked.
“I’m sorry?”
“It was dark in the lane. No street lights to speak of. Only one just outside the house. Moonlight apparently, but you’d have to look where you were putting your feet. It was icy. So, I’m trying to understand how you came to see your son’s body. If you were concentrating on not slipping. I’m sorry to make you go through it again, but it’s the details which can help sometimes. Was there something in the hedge which caught your eye?”
“No,” she said. “Nothing like that. The car was parked right on the verge so other vehicles could pass. The grass is rough and the car wasn’t level. It was Robert’s. He uses it for work and I never drive it. I knew there was a lever on the dashboard which opened the boot but I couldn’t find it immediately. While I was fumbling I turned on the headlights by mistake. The beam shone down into the ditch. That was when I saw Christopher.”
She stared blankly out at them.
“Could he have been there when you arrived?” Ashworth asked. “Or would you have seen him when you parked?”
“I was sitting in the back with Emma. Chatting. Trying to pretend that I didn’t mind Christopher going back to the university without making the effort of visiting us. But James and Robert would have seen if he’d been there. No, Christopher must have died while we were at the Mantel house. He was so close. But we could do nothing at all to help him.”
Chapter IWenty-Four
“What did you make of her?” Vera asked. “Was she telling the truth?”
“She didn’t seem the sort to me who’d lie.” They’d taken time out for tea and buns. Vera’s decision. She wanted to talk to Robert Winter but he was still in the church at least his car was parked in the square and she thought she couldn’t face him with low-blood sugar. She’d need to be on top of her game for that conversation. Besides she was embarrassed about breaking in on him. Suppose he was praying. She couldn’t imagine herself sitting on a pew next to him, while he was on his knees. Just along the street from the Bennetts’ house there was a bakery. She’d smelled the yeast and the sugar from the forge once and Dan had taken her in. Next to it there was a small, dark room, with a couple of tables where they served weak instant coffee and bacon sandwiches. And sticky cakes from the shop. From the narrow window they could see the church and Winter’s car in the street. There was no one to overhear. The other table was empty and the waitress was in the shop gassing to the woman behind the counter.
“Maybe not,” Vera said. “But there’s a difference between lying and telling the whole truth. She was very careful in the words she chose, wasn’t she?”
“I can’t see it. I thought she was a decent woman.”
“Not a lot of fun in her life, is there? Work and church. Do you think that’s all there is?”
“Maybe that’s all she wants.” Ashworth shrugged. “Someone of her age
…”
“Listen, lad. She’s about the same age as me and I can still manage a few laughs. But it strikes me there’s not much to laugh about in Springhead House.” She spooned sugar into her tea. The way she was feeling she needed the energy. “Do you think the husband slaps her around?”