And the woman stamped down the track to her big, flash car, leaving Connie feeling abandoned and uneasy.

Chapter Nineteen

The family liaison officer had arrived at the Lister house almost as soon as Hannah had finished washing up. Vera had half-heartedly offered to do it, but Hannah had refused. She needed, Vera thought, to feel that this was her place still. That it didn’t belong to strange police officers.

‘What are your plans, pet? Will you stay on here?’

Hannah turned from the sink and looked confused, as if the question had no meaning. Then the doorbell rang and it was the FLO, and while Hannah was obviously sorry it wasn’t Simon standing there, she seemed relieved by the interruption.

Outside on the pavement Vera took a deep breath; she felt more of a sense of escape and liberation than she would coming out of Durham jail. She phoned Ashworth. ‘Where are you?’

‘Doing the house-to-house again.’ He lowered his voice. ‘The plods that did it the first time round missed stuff.’

‘Anything useful?’

‘Well, I can’t go into details now.’ Vera imagined him in one of the houses in the street. He’d have excused himself from the lounge to take the call, would be standing in a narrow hall, the residents on the other side of the door straining to hear every word.

‘Give me half an hour,’ she said. ‘I want a word with the ex-social worker you took such a shine to. Then I’m planning a visit to Michael Morgan and I want you along. Charlie can carry on there. I’ve sent Holly to talk to Lawrence May, the guy who was Jenny’s boyfriend.’

On the way to Connie’s cottage she drove past the Eliot place. There was a new car on the drive of the white house, something low and sporty. The master of the house had obviously returned, and inside the family was probably celebrating with a special lunch, while Hannah mourned for her mother.

Vera had grown up in the hills and these low places, shut in by trees, gave her the creeps. She wouldn’t want to live so close to the river; imagined floods, biting insects, disease. Even the lambs seemed overfed and fat.

When she talked to Ashworth after her interview with Connie, he said he wanted to take his own car to Tynemouth, the town where Morgan lived and practised. It was miles away, right on the coast, and he could go straight home from there. He’d had enough late nights. His wife would kill him. Vera insisted he go with her. ‘We can’t go into this cold. This could be it, man. We need at least the chance to talk it through.’

‘Couldn’t it wait until the morning? Give us a chance to prepare properly for the interview?’