The Darkest Evening

than his knees.
Your mother’s dead. What will happen to you now?
Vera had spoken of grandparents living in the valley, people who might take the child in. ‘The Falstones. An old farming family. You must know them? They’re nearly neighbours.’
Juliet had muttered something about Robert Falstone being a tenant. ‘They’ve farmed our land for years, but they keep themselves to themselves.’ What else could she say?
Then Vera had persisted, poking away with her questions, like a disturbed child picking at its skin. ‘You’d have known Lorna though? She was younger than you and I daresay she went to a local school, not that fancy place in Newcastle where you were sent, but in this sort of community you’d all know each other. The New Year’s Day meet, everyone turns out, don’t they? She’d likely have had a pony when she was a bairn.’
‘She was a lot younger than me.’ Juliet had tried to be firm. ‘By at least ten years, maybe fifteen. I was aware of her, bumped into her in the Co-op in Kirkhill. As you say she came to the meet from time to time. But I’ve not met her recently.’
‘Heard any rumours? Apparently, she was a gentle soul. Given to depression perhaps. Anxiety.’
‘I try not to listen to rumours, Vera.’ And that, at least, was true.
‘Ah, rumours are what my job is all about.’ And the woman had given a little laugh, making Juliet wonder what she might have heard about her.
Dorothy had found an old camping cot, which they kept in the house for guests with babies, and at last, it seemed, Thomas was ready for sleep again. Juliet laid him in the cot, wrapped up in a blanket, and climbed into bed too. She was awake for a long time, waiting for Mark to appear. At one point she considered going downstairs to see what was happening there, but what would that look like? A harridan wife in her dressing gown chasing a recalcitrant husband to bed. Mark would be mortified. In the end, she took a sleeping pill, an over-the-counter remedy that would have no real strength to it but might help a little. She slept fitfully and didn’t properly wake until she heard Thomas muttering to himself. He wasn’t crying, but making odd soft noises that could have been the beginning of speech. Mark was in the bed beside her, still in his socks and underwear, his other clothes and shoes scattered over the floor.
It was dark and she looked at the bedside clock. Six forty-five. She got out of bed, opened the curtains and stared out of the window. A uniformed officer she didn’t recognize stood by the tent, lit by the light inside it. He was wrapped in a heavy jacket, but she thought he’d be freezing: there’d been no more snow, but it was still and clear and there was ice on the pane. She dressed quickly – a bath could wait – and took Thomas downstairs. They’d told the guests there’d be breakfast at nine and she hoped none of them would be ill-mannered enough to emerge before then. She’d left kettles and tea in the rooms. Dorothy had said she’d be in at eight, but surely Vera and her team would need hot drinks and food now. Juliet felt the old need to please, to make herself useful.
Vera was in the kitchen where Juliet had left her the night before. She was asleep, her head on her ample chest, snoring lightly. There was no sign of the younger detectives, the pathologist or the crime-scene manager. Vera woke up when Juliet came in. ‘Morning!’ Bright as if she’d had a good night’s sleep in her own bed.
‘I didn’t mean to disturb you. I was going to make some tea.’
‘Oh, Juliet, my love, you’re a life-saver.’ Vera nodded to Thomas. ‘How’s the little one?’
‘He seems fine.’
‘I called the duty social worker last night,’ Vera said. ‘She’s going with one of my colleagues to tell Lorna’s parents first thing this morning. Before the news gets out. I’m assuming her relatives will want to look after the kiddie. We should be able to take him off your hands by lunchtime.’
Juliet didn’t know what to say. She put Thomas on the floor and started making tea. ‘Where are the others?’
‘Crashed out in your lounge. Sofas, armchairs. I didn’t think you’d mind. We left one poor chap to mind the scene and he’ll need a hot drink as soon as. I’ll rouse the others when the tea’s ready. They did what they could last night, but they’ll start again this morning when it gets light. We’ll have reinforcements then if the weather holds up. The forecast says no more snow.’
‘I hope all our guests can get home.’ Juliet was aware of an edge of desperation in her voice.
‘Had enough of them, have you? I don’t blame you. I can’t abide my space being invaded. We’ll need to have a quick word before they disappear, but as long as we have names and addresses, we’ll be happy to let them go.’
Juliet put a big brown china teapot on the table.
‘You’ll have to put up with us for a little while longer, though.’ Vera smiled a wide wolf’s smile. ‘I’m afraid you won’t get rid of us quite so easily.’
The rest of the morning passed in a blur, leaving Juliet with a sense of mild panic and disengagement. She felt a need to concentrate in order not to lose control. It was a sensation close to seasickness and certainly she couldn’t eat. The smell of frying bacon made her nauseous. Strangers drifted in and out of the kitchen. Dorothy arrived early and coordinated the whole scene like a choreographer, making sure everyone was fed and watered, skipping through the crowds with a mound of toast or thermos flasks of coffee.
The invited guests sat in the dining room. Most looked wan and hungover, but still excited about being in their very own country-house murder mystery. They didn’t seem