‘I …’ Gran wrings her hands.
‘Rose,’ says DC Webb, resting her elbows on the table. ‘Did Daphne kill Neil Lewisham?’
Gran purses her lips together. A shadow passes across her face and I wonder what she’s thinking. ‘Who is Neil Lewisham?’ She turns to me. ‘Who are these people?’ She waves her arm in the direction of the police and Mum too. My heart sinks.
‘I think Gran’s had enough,’ I say, reaching for her hand.
‘Rose, can you remember if Daphne killed Neil Lewisham?’ persists DS Barnes. He sounds desperate to keep the interview going but Gran is shaking her head, staring at him blankly but refusing to say anything else.
The detectives exchange resigned glances.
‘We’ll have to pick this up another day,’ says DS Barnes, to me and Mum.
It’s not until we’re leaving the room that I hear DC Webb mutter to her colleague, ‘I think we need to look into the other body being that of Daphne Hartall.’
‘Have you heard of Jean Burdon?’ I ask Mum on the drive home. The tension between us is still almost palpable after our earlier argument.
‘Yes, of course,’ she says crisply. ‘You’d be too young, perhaps. The Jean Burdon case was overshadowed by Mary Bell.’
‘Who did Jean Burdon kill?’
‘Another little girl. Jean was only ten when it happened. And so was the girl she killed. Obviously it was before my time but I remember reading about it.’
I feel sick. ‘God, that’s awful. Imagine finding out that about your lodger.’
Mum nods grimly.
‘Do you think Daphne killed Neil Lewisham because he found out she was Jean Burdon?’ I ask.
Mum looks pained. ‘It’s possible. Especially if he was a journalist. It makes sense.’
‘But then,’ I say, my mouth dry, ‘if Daphne is the other body, who killed her?’
When I arrive back at the cottage Tom is out with Snowy. I go straight to my study and look again at the article Dad sent me from Sheila’s file. It’s a short vox-pop-style piece written by Neil asking whatever became of Jean Burdon and interviews with some of the public about possible sightings.
Then I type Jean Burdon’s name into Google and a number of entries pop up, mostly newspaper reports accompanied by a grainy black-and-white photo of a young chubby-faced girl with a bob. I click on a link.
17 February 1951
THE DAILY MAIL
GIRL, 11, CONVICTED OF MURDER
AN 11-YEAR-OLD girl has been sentenced to life after being found guilty of murder at the Old Bailey.
Jean Burdon remained composed and expressionless as the guilty verdict was read out after a four-hour deliberation by the jury.
Jean Burdon is said to have ‘struck the temple with a blunt object’ of 10-year-old Susan Wallace in an unprovoked attack on 20 June last year. Susan was found dead in a derelict bomb-shattered building by two passing boys.
Mr Justice Downing described her as a dangerous risk to other children and said she will be held in a secure unit for ‘many years’。
Mum walks into the study carrying a mug of tea. ‘Here we are. Red Bush,’ she says, placing it carefully on my desk. ‘I don’t know how you can drink that stuff. The smell turns my stomach.’
‘Look at this,’ I say, and Mum reads the article over my shoulder. ‘Do you think Daphne Hartall could really have been this person?’
‘Well, it’s possible that Sheila Watts was the new identity given to Jean Burdon.’