The Darkest Evening

mumble, mind. I canna bear mumblers.’
In the end, if she spoke clearly and faced him, he heard her well enough. They sat in a small living room. No sign of Christmas here, except for four cards on the mantelpiece. He was Matty Fuller, a retired shepherd, and he’d moved to Kirkhill when his wife had died. ‘I thought it might be lonely out there in the old place, with no company but the dog. I’ve been here three years though, and I’m still not sure I like it. I’m a countryman at heart.’
To Holly, this village was as country as she thought it could get, and she didn’t know how to reply. ‘Did you know Lorna?’
‘She was a canny little thing. Bonny. She called in every now and again with the bairn. Company for me and I think she was glad of the change of scene. Other times we’d meet up in the village, usually in the Co-op. It can take half an hour to get through the checkout with everyone chatting. She was a skinny little lass. A good gust of wind and she’d blow away.’ He paused. ‘I knew her parents. I worked that way for a while.’
‘On the Brockburn estate?’
‘A long time ago. In Sebastian’s day. Before he gambled away all his cash and when he could still keep his staff.’
‘Sebastian?’
‘Crispin’s father. Crispin’s gone too now. His widow rules the roost. The Lady Harriet we used to call her, though there was never any real title. She had that air about her. Snooty.’
Holly couldn’t help herself. ‘Did you ever know Hector Stanhope?’
Matty chuckled. ‘Aye. He was Sebastian’s younger brother. Not a great one for rules and responsibility. Married a schoolteacher out Wark way when we thought he’d never find a woman to take him on. He seemed to be settling down – he loved her to bits, they said, worshipped the ground she walked on – and then she died and he went back to his wild old ways.’
So, the Stanhopes of Brockburn weren’t such distant relatives of the boss after all. Holly thought Vera wasn’t a great one for rules either.
‘What are Lorna Falstone’s parents like?’
‘Solid. Hard-working. A bit proud maybe.’ He paused. ‘Some folk round here think they’re unfriendly because they don’t mix. They run a good farm, though. Anyone will tell you that.’ Another pause. ‘I did a bit of work for them when Jill was pregnant with the lassie and she couldn’t help with the lambing. Robert didn’t chat much – there was no joking to pass the time – but he was fair. Paid the going wage.’
‘There must have been a bit of gossip when Lorna got pregnant. She was living in Kirkhill by then.’
‘Aye.’ He smiled. ‘There was a bit of talk in the Co-op queue when she started showing.’ He looked up at her. ‘You know she’d been ill? Anorexia, do they call it? Starving herself.’
Holly nodded.
‘There’d already been people giving their opinion about Robert and Jill letting her live by herself here. They thought she should be at home where they could look after her, make sure she was eating properly.’ He paused. ‘I thought it was something she had to do for herself. The last thing you’d want would be your parents running your life. You’d want a bit of control.’ A pause. ‘And then they didn’t stop her being ill when she was living at Broom Farm.’
‘Yes,’ Holly said. ‘I think you’re right.’ She looked up at him. ‘There must have been some speculation about who the father might be.’
‘Ha! Speculation is right. Too many people with too much time on their hands making up stories. Nobody knew.’
‘What were the stories?’ Holly thought Lorna must have had some courage, living here, walking down the village street, knowing people were watching, walking into a shop and facing a sudden silence.
‘I don’t know,’ Matty said. ‘I never listened. There are times when it’s a good thing to be deaf.’
‘We need to know, though.’ Holly leaned forward. ‘Because we have to find out who killed her. And besides, there’s a child without a mother. Maybe it would help Thomas to know his father.’
Matty looked at her. Through the wall to the adjoining bungalow came a woman’s voice, someone shouting that dinner was ready.
‘I don’t know,’ he said at last. ‘The talk was that there was some fancy man in the city. She was seen taking the bus to Newcastle a few times. That was all it needed to start the rumour.’
‘She didn’t mention anyone when she came to visit?’
He gave a little laugh. ‘Nah, we weren’t on those sorts of terms.’
‘Thanks.’ Holly stood up. ‘You’ve been very helpful.’
Now Matty seemed reluctant to let her go. ‘Why, I’ve never offered you a drink. Would you like some coffee?’ She saw that even here, on the edge of the village, he was lonely.
‘What happened to your dog?’ she asked. ‘The one that kept you company before you moved in here.’
‘Oh, I had to have her put down. She was a working dog and she needed space and exercise and I can’t walk so far these days. It would have been a prison for her, to bring her here.’ He looked up. ‘I miss her, though. I miss them both.’
It was only as she was leaving the bungalow that Holly realized he was talking about his dog and his wife.
The other people who lived in the street were eager to help, excited that a detective should want to ask them questions, but they could tell Holly little more about Lorna than Matty Fuller. A large, blowsy woman, who’d struggled to the door with the aid of a walking frame, mentioned the fancy man from Newcastle too. ‘They say he runs his own string of businesses and he’s minted.’ But when Holly asked for details and to know who’d actually started the rumour, the woman couldn’t tell her. She’d kept Holly chatting on the doorstep and when Holly had asked for some form of