The Darkest Evening

by Cleeves, Ann

  She lifted her glass and clinked it against his. ‘A toast,’ she said, her voice ironic. ‘To happy families.’

  They smiled and Joe thought Vera gave him a little wink, but the fire was smoking and he couldn’t be entirely sure.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  THE NEXT MORNING, VERA DROVE JOE back to Kimmerston and told him to go home. ‘Or head into town for a bit of Christmas shopping. I bet you’ve still not bought anything for your Sal. She deserves something special, putting up with you.’ Vera stayed in the Land Rover and watched him go into the police station. She couldn’t face going in herself: all that sympathy and she knew there’d be the inevitable lecture from her superintendent about putting herself in danger. Given half a chance he’d probably order her on a risk-assessment course, but if she stayed out of the way until after the holiday, he’d have forgotten all about it. He had a very small brain.

  There were loose ends to be tidied and she drove back to Kirkhill. Vera couldn’t abide loose ends. She was supposed to be off sick, but it was almost on her way back to the cottage, after all, and these would be informal chats. Hardly work at all. Her first stop was to Home Farm. Best to get the most unpleasant visit over first.

  She found them all sitting at the kitchen table, a cafetière of coffee going cold in the middle; Nettie and Cath sitting very close together, their arms around each other, Josh white and silent. Their mother alone at the end of the table. Vera didn’t know what to say to them, but in the end, she had to ask. That curiosity again, getting the better of her.

  ‘You didn’t suspect?’

  The question was directed to them all, but it was Rosemary who answered. ‘That my husband’s a murderer?’ Her voice was shrill and hysterical. ‘No, I didn’t suspect.’

  Or you didn’t want to.

  ‘That he had a lover,’ Vera said gently. ‘Did you suspect that?’

  Rosemary turned away and refused to reply. They were all frozen in their grief, like sculptures of ice. Vera let herself out of the house. On the doorstep she paused and turned back to the group at the table. ‘He’ll plead guilty,’ she said. ‘No trial and the press should soon lose interest. He’s done that for you at least.’ She could hear one of the girls sobbing as she walked towards the Land Rover.

  She moved on to Broom Farm. An officer should have been in touch with the Falstones with the basic details. They’d know Heslop was in custody, but they deserved more explanation. On the way, Vera wondered if it might be possible for her to keep in touch with the family after Heslop had been convicted, once the fuss had died down. It was about time she made a few friends away from work and it would be interesting to see Thomas grow up. She might not be related to him, but there were no other kids in her life. She might be able to help out from time to time. Not babysitting. She wouldn’t go that far. She was so cack-handed she couldn’t contemplate changing a nappy. But when he was older, she might be there for him. Money if he needed something the couple couldn’t run to. Driving lessons. Advice. Then she thought Robert and Jill would probably want to put the investigation behind them and the last thing they’d need was Vera butting in.

  She found them in a living room that she’d never seen on her previous visits. It was at the back of the house full of big, dark furniture. There was a fire in the grate covered by a mesh guard, and they were putting up a tree. Thomas was on the floor, crawling through tinsel, chuckling. There was a smell of pine needles and old-fashioned furniture polish. Lavender or beeswax. Vera wasn’t an expert, but either Robert or Jill had been cleaning.

  ‘We’ve never bothered much with Christmas since Lorna left home,’ Jill said. ‘But when she was a bairn, she always liked a real tree. We tried to persuade her that an artificial was less mess, but she wouldn’t have it.’

  ‘Your liaison officer will have been in touch, kept you up to date with what’s going on?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘How’s he been?’ Vera nodded towards the toddler.

  ‘Canny. He seems to have had no ill effects at all.’

  ‘And he’ll be too young to remember,’ Robert said. ‘That’s a blessing.’

  ‘Hard for you to forget, though.’

  Robert nodded, but didn’t dwell on the idea. ‘We can’t thank you enough for finding him. For getting him back.’ He turned away so she wouldn’t see that he was close to tears. ‘The officer said you ended up in hospital.’

  ‘Just doing my job.’ Vera paused. ‘I’ll be interested in seeing how he turns out.’

  ‘You’ll be very welcome here,’ Jill said, ‘at any time.’ She smiled. ‘An honorary auntie.’

  Vera wasn’t sure how to respond to that, but she gave a little laugh. ‘I can’t guarantee I’ll remember his birthday.’ There was a slightly awkward silence before Vera continued. ‘How would you feel if the Heslops stick around in the valley? Would that be difficult for you?’

  The couple didn’t answer immediately. They looked at each other. ‘I wouldn’t like to think they’d lose their home.’ Robert paused. ‘Not if they knew nothing of what was going on. What’s that saying about the sins of the father? I don’t think guilt can pass down the generations.’ He nodded towards the child. ‘If it did, this one would be tainted too. And whatever we might think of it we’re all related in a way now.’

  ‘That’s a charitable way to look at it.’

  Falstone seemed embarrassed. ‘Soft, you mean? Aye, well, I suppose it’s that time of year.’ He looked away. They watched Thomas pull himself up on the sofa and walk a few steps towards the piano.

  ‘Could you manage a mince pie?’ Jill said. ‘Shop-bought. Obviously.’

  ‘Eh, hinnie,’ Vera smiled. ‘That’s just how I like them.’

  Chapter Forty-Five

  AT BROCKBURN, JULIET STOOD AT HER bedroom window and looked out at the garden and the forest in the distance. She thought she was always an observer, always looking out. It was as if this grand house was a prison or a cage and she couldn’t quite take the step to freedom, to break away.

  Mark had gone into Kirkhill early to buy a paper and returned to say that the Co-op had been full of the news of Neil Heslop’s arrest. She supposed he would be spending the rest of his life behind real bars, locked gates. The life that he’d known before with Rosemary and his children was over. It seemed ridiculous to turn herself into a virtual prisoner when she had the opportunity to do whatever she wanted, just because she didn’t have the confidence to strike out on her own.

  The trouble was that she wasn’t quite clear in her own mind what she wanted. A child, of course. That was always in her mind and the babies that might have been still haunted her. But there were children who needed homes and she had the space and the love to give them. Mark had tried to bring up the subject of adoption in the past but she’d always put him off; she’d seen it as a second-best option, not enough. After holding Thomas in her arms in this room, she wasn’t sure now that was true.

  Perhaps, she thought, she should escape this altogether: the house, her mother and her marriage. She could run away, travel, take a university course, see a bit of life away from the valley. She had a brief image of a sunlit hillside with the sea in the distance, the smell of salt and thyme, the taste of olives and oranges.

  Juliet knew that would be an empty gesture, though. It might do as a holiday but not a long-term proposition. She belonged in this place and wanted to be here. She needed to stand up to her mother, not allow herself to be bullied, and she should make a real effort to work with Mark and make his project a success. There could be excitement enough in that. After all that had happened, Harriet was no longer in any position to call the shots. Perhaps she could be persuaded to move to a comfortable flat in the city, somewhere close to her friends and the shops. Without the woman’s interference, she and Mark would have more of a chance to build a proper marriage. Only then could they consider a child. The possibilities made Juliet feel suddenly joyful, dizzy. A new year would bring new possibilities. Perhaps Vera was l
ike a crotchety fairy godmother, who had opened Juliet’s eyes to a different world.

  As if on cue, there came the distant sound of the ancient Land Rover’s engine, and Juliet watched as it stopped in front of the house and Vera climbed down.

  Chapter Forty-Six

  VERA ARRIVED AT BROCKBURN BY THE grand drive. When she’d left the Falstones, she’d sat in the vehicle for a moment, the low winter sun shining straight into her eyes, making them water, planning her last visit of the day. It was a week since she’d first driven this way to Brockburn and parked by the cedar tree, scattered with fairy lights, the toddler in the Land Rover beside her. Today was the winter’s solstice, the longest night of the year. Lorna’s ‘Darkest Evening’. She’d felt then a bit like Cinderella, peering through the window at a different world. She knew better now and she didn’t envy them their house or their fancy parties. She got out of the Land Rover and rang the bell by the front door. Dorothy opened it almost immediately.

  ‘Are the family in?’

  ‘They are. Juliet’s upstairs, but I’ve just shouted to let her know there’s coffee in the kitchen.’

  ‘Perfect timing then. You’ll join us, pet? It’ll save me having to repeat myself.’

  ‘Of course.’

  Juliet appeared beside them and then they were all there. Harriet sat at the head of the table, immaculate in a cashmere sweater and silk scarf, grey trousers. Juliet looked pale and skinny, but for once she wasn’t wearing black. Instead she was in a bright red sweater over her jeans. Mark, at the other end of the table, was still dressed like a country gent in wool sweater and cord trousers. Dorothy poured coffee and passed around a plate of brownies. The coffee was strong and good. Vera thought there were compensations to mixing with the gentry.

  ‘I wanted to let you know that we’ve arrested a suspect for the murders of Lorna Falstone and Constance Browne. Only fair that you should know before the press gets wind.’

  ‘Oh?’ Harriet showed slightly more interest than she had on any of Vera’s previous visits.

  ‘We’d heard,’ Juliet said. ‘Mark was in Kirkhill this morning and everyone was talking about it.’

  ‘You didn’t tell me.’ Harriet turned a stony stare on her daughter, but Juliet didn’t seem cowed. Harriet looked back at Vera. ‘Well? Who was it?’

  ‘Your tenant from Home Farm. Neil Heslop. It seems he was the baby’s father.’

  ‘Ah.’ Harriet seemed almost pleased. ‘A domestic situation. I suppose that makes sense.’

  ‘Poor Rosemary,’ Juliet said. ‘To have a husband capable of that! Of murder! I’ve been thinking I should go round.’ She looked at Vera. ‘Or do you think that might make things worse?’

  Vera didn’t think anything could make things worse but she didn’t reply.

  ‘You’re sure he was the culprit?’ Harriet said.

  ‘He’s confessed. There’ll be a guilty plea. No need for a trial.’

  ‘Ah,’ Harriet said again, and Vera could sense the relief, the satisfaction. ‘I suppose we’ll need to find a new tenant.’

  ‘Not yet.’ Juliet was firm. ‘The Heslop girls are still at school and we can’t ask them to leave Home Farm. Not now. We can keep things ticking over for a while, even if we have to get contractors in. I suppose it would be awkward to ask Robert Falstone to help.’

  ‘Perhaps you should ask Josh Heslop if he wants to take over the tenancy,’ Vera said. ‘It’s in his blood. If the family can face staying.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Juliet said. ‘We should offer at least. Rosemary and the children will need all the support they can get.’

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Harriet poured herself more coffee. ‘Joshua’s rather young. And would we really want the family staying on the land? Think of the scandal there’ll be, all the media interest when the case comes to court.’

  Vera stood up. ‘As you say, it was a domestic situation.’ A pause. ‘It happens in the very best of families, as you know yourself. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to be accused of hypocrisy.’

  Harriet made no reply. She stared once more at Juliet, then got up and left the room. Vera turned to Dorothy. ‘You knew the family well. You were at the daughter’s birthday party in the barn. You didn’t suspect that there were any problems there?’

  There was a moment of silence. ‘Karan thought Cath seemed nervy, preoccupied. She didn’t seem to be enjoying time at home and turned up at the cottage even when she didn’t have a class scheduled. I thought she just had a crush on him and told him to take care.’

  ‘Wise words,’ Vera said. ‘That was how the relationship between Lorna and Neil Heslop started. She fell for an older man, looking for security.’ She smiled. ‘Good for the ego, eh? But a dangerous game.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure Karan knows he’s got too much to lose. Besides, he’s far too sensible to go down that route.’

  ‘I’m sure he is.’ But Vera remembered Joe’s description of knocking at Pabla’s cottage the night before, while his wife and child were away, two coffee mugs on the table. ‘And Cath will have more on her plate than A levels now.’

  Dorothy nodded. ‘Of course. And Karan has to focus on work for his post-graduate teaching qualification. It’s probably a good time to give up the classes.’

  Vera smiled again. She thought the message had got through. No need to mention Dorothy’s own mistake and her reason for leaving London and the law. She was about to stand up when Juliet reached out and took her hand.

  ‘You will keep in touch, Vera? Now we’ve been in contact again, we should get to know each other a little better. Don’t you think so? There are so few Stanhopes left.’

  Vera said nothing for a moment. ‘Well, with coffee as good as this, you’ll not keep me away.’ No promises. Nothing specific.

  Mark had been watching the exchange with confusion and a little amusement, like a member of the audience following a piece of theatre he didn’t quite understand. He seemed about to speak, but Vera got to her feet before he had a chance. ‘Perhaps you’d see me out, Mr Bolitho.’

  They stood together at the top of the stone steps leading down to the formal garden.

  ‘How’s the arts centre project going?’

  ‘Well,’ he said. ‘Arts Council England has made some very encouraging noises about our application.’

  ‘It’s never wise to lie to the police, Mr Bolitho.’

  ‘I wasn’t aware that I had lied.’

  ‘The morning of Miss Browne’s death. You told my officer that you spent a short time in your flat and then went out for breakfast.’

  ‘Ah.’ He paused. ‘So I did.’

  ‘Where were you exactly?’

  ‘This is rather awkward, Inspector.’ He paused again and looked back into the house to be sure that nobody was listening. ‘My full-time contract at the theatre is covering for maternity leave. My colleague had a little girl a couple of months ago. You met her here. Sophie Blackstock. She and Paul came to the party that night.’ He looked up at Vera and seemed to guess what she was thinking. ‘Really, the baby’s absolutely nothing to do with me. Sophie’s happily married. And I love my wife. But I’m a bit soppy about babies and I went for a visit. To take a gift and steal a cuddle. It’s a sensitive subject for Juliet. I didn’t want it getting back to her. She already thinks she’s letting me down.’

  ‘Maybe she’d understand.’

  ‘Perhaps. I’ve been so wrapped up in work that I’ve stopped saying anything important to her.’ He paused. ‘I don’t want to hurt her.’

  Vera wasn’t convinced. She thought Bolitho was telling her what she wanted to hear. But perhaps she was just a cynical old bat and besides, as Robert Falstone had said, it was the time of year to be charitable. She nodded and patted Mark Bolitho’s arm. ‘You talk to her,’ she said. ‘I’m her relative after all, so I’ve got a right to interfere, and I want her to be happy.’ She paused for a beat. ‘I don’t envy you taking on this lot, mind.’ She made a gesture which included the house and the people in
side. ‘Good luck with it all.’

  She stamped back to the Land Rover feeling suddenly energized. She’d had a flutter with mortality, and lying in the hospital bed she’d wondered if it might be time to retire. But there was plenty of life in the old dog yet. Again, some lines of Holly’s poem came back to her. And miles to go before I sleep. And miles to go before I sleep.

  The Darkest Evening

  Ann Cleeves is the author of over thirty critically acclaimed novels, and in 2017 was awarded the highest accolade in crime writing, the CWA Diamond Dagger. She is the creator of popular detectives Vera Stanhope and Jimmy Perez who can now be found on television in ITV’s Vera and BBC One’s Shetland. The TV series and the books they are based on have become international sensations, capturing the minds of millions worldwide.

  Ann worked as a probation officer, bird observatory cook, and auxiliary coastguard before she started writing. She is a member of ‘Murder Squad’, working with other British northern writers to promote crime fiction. Ann is also a passionate champion for libraries and was a National Libraries Day Ambassador in 2016. Ann lives in North Tyneside near where the Vera books are set.

  BY ANN CLEEVES

  A Bird in the Hand Come Death and High Water

  Murder in Paradise A Prey to Murder

  A Lesson in Dying Murder in My Backyard

  A Day in the Death of Dorothea Cassidy

  Another Man’s Poison Killjoy

  The Mill on the Shore Sea Fever

  The Healers High Island Blues

  The Baby-Snatcher The Sleeping and the Dead

  Burial of Ghosts

  The Vera Stanhope series

  The Crow Trap Telling Tales Hidden Depths

  Silent Voices The Glass Room Harbour Street