‘Thanks, Lorna,’ says DS Barnes, nodding to her without smiling. ‘So, Rose, my notes say you began proceedings to rent out the cottage in April 1981.’
She shakes her head. ‘I … don’t know.’
He refers to his little black notebook. ‘We know that your first tenant was in June 1981. A couple who rented the house from you for ten years. We’ve already spoken to them. But before that you lived at the property for nearly four years. Did anyone live there with you?’
‘I … had a lodger.’
This is news to Lorna. She sits up straighter. She notices Saffy does the same.
‘A lodger? Male or female?’ asks DS Barnes.
‘A female lodger. Daphne … Daphne Hartall.’ She says the name almost with relish, like she hasn’t said it in a very long time and enjoys the way it forms on her lips.
Her mother has never mentioned a Daphne before.
‘Can you remember what year this was?’ says DS Barnes.
‘I think 1979. No. 1980 …’ She slurps her tea noisily, some of which sloshes onto her pink jumper. Saffy’s hand hovers near the mug, ready to help her with it. ‘The last year I was in the cottage.’
‘And how old was Daphne?’
‘She was … she was the same age as me, I think. In her thirties. Or … maybe forty … I …’ her eyes dart from side to side ‘… I can’t remember exactly …’
‘And what happened to her?’
‘I … don’t know. She left. We lost touch.’
‘Were you friends?’
‘Yes. Yes, we were friends.’ She sounds grumpy now. The way she’d sounded with Lorna when she used to ask about her dad.
‘And did either of you have any … male friends around that time?’
Her mother moves suddenly and a splash of tea jumps from the cup and dribbles down her front.
Saffy is wearing a pained expression. ‘Here, Gran, let me take the mug,’ she says, relief flooding her face when she has it safely in her hands and has lowered it to the table.
‘Rose …’ prompts DS Barnes. ‘Male visitors?’
Her mother shudders. ‘No. No, we were scared – Victor.’
Lorna frowns. Victor again. Who is this Victor?
‘Why were you scared, Rose?’ DS Barnes asks gently.
‘Victor wanted to hurt the baby.’ She touches her soft stomach as though remembering what it was like to be pregnant. Does she mean me? wonders Lorna. She can’t mean me. She told me my dad died before I was born.
Her mother was always so over-protective when Lorna was growing up, insisting on meeting her from the school bus every evening, when all her friends were allowed to walk home by themselves. She never let her wander far, always making sure that she knew where Lorna was going and what time she’d be back, and if she was ever late she’d ring around her friends’ parents and it was so embarrassing that Lorna made sure she was always back on time. Is that why? Because she was scared of a man called Victor?
DS Barnes frowns. ‘Who is Victor? Can you remember his surname?’
She shakes her head. ‘It’s all such a long time ago now …’ She turns to Saffy and says, ‘I don’t want to answer any more questions. I want to watch Bargain Hunt.’
‘Oh, Gran,’ says Saffy, taking her hand. ‘It won’t be long now, will it, Detective?’
DS Barnes nods. ‘Just a bit longer, please, Rose. Can you remember any more about Victor? Did he ever come to the cottage?’