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.He seemed about to answer when his mobile rang.He looked at the caller ID and his face changed and turned blank and hard.‘Sorry,’ he said.‘I’ve got to take this.’ He stood up and went outside.When she followed him a few moments later he had the sander going again.He waved at her in a friendly way, but she could tell that she’d get nothing from him now.Leaving the yard, Vera decided there was only one option, weighing up all the possibilities: a sit-down meal of haddock and chips in the Mardle Fisheries.Chapter Twenty-EightHolly arrived at the Haven in the early afternoon.A flat landscape facing the sea, and the trees all bent away from the wind.A big grey sky.The house was grey too, stone and square, but crumbling through lack of care.Peeled paintwork on the window frames and gutters with weeds growing inside, slates missing on the roof.A bit of money, though, and it would be a magnificent place.Holly could see it as a smart country-house hotel or converted into luxury apartments.She was a sucker for makeover programmes on television and she read the interior-design mags at the hairdresser’s.She wondered why the charity didn’t sell the place and buy somewhere more convenient for the hostel in town.They’d still end up with a profit.She parked next to a black Volvo and, as soon as she climbed out of the car, the wind seemed to blow right through her jacket.Somewhere a dog was barking.She knocked at the door and it was opened almost immediately by a thin girl, hardly more than a child.‘Are you the social worker?’ Her words eager, her eyes wide.Her red hair was tied back with a ribbon.She was dressed like a student, but a student with taste and money.Holly would have had her down as a staff member, but she was too thin and too nervy, nibbling now on her nails.‘I’m afraid not.’‘Ah.’ The girl backed away from her, disappointed.‘A social worker’s supposed to be coming to take me home for Christmas.My key worker’s away on holiday.My mother said that she’d give it another go.’‘Any chance I could speak to the person in charge?’And at that point a plump woman appeared in the corridor.‘I told you she wouldn’t be here until five, Emily,’ she said to the girl.She could have been talking to an eight-year-old.‘Go and wait in the kitchen where it’s warm.’ Then she held out her hand to Holly.‘I’m Jane Cameron and I run this place.You must be one of Vera Stanhope’s gang.I assume you’re here to talk to the residents about Dee Robson.’Jane reminded Holly of her former French teacher.She had the same good-natured authority and the same confidence that she would get what she wanted from her charges without any fuss.The same sort of Scottish accent.There was a sound from further inside the house and Peter Gruskin the priest appeared.If he recognized Holly he didn’t acknowledge her.He was frowning.‘I’ll get off then, shall I? I don’t think there’s anything else we can do at this stage.’ He nodded to both women and made his way outside.The wind tugged at his cloak and his hair.They stood watching until he drove away.Holly followed Jane into the kitchen, where two women were pulling on gloves and boots.‘We were just planning a walk,’ Jane said.‘Everyone seems to have been stuck indoors and the weather forecast is dreadful for the rest of the week.We all need a breath of fresh air.Come on, Em.Coat on.I promise you won’t miss the social worker.’ Jane turned to Holly.‘That is okay with you? We can talk as we go.’ And Holly had no choice.There were just three residents – the others had apparently been invited to more comfortable or exciting places for Christmas.The skinny child, Em, an athletic young woman called Laurie, who strode ahead throwing sticks for the dog, and Susan, who was older, grey-haired and who scarcely spoke when they were all together.At first Jane let the women walk ahead of them and spoke to Holly herself.‘Have you met Peter Gruskin before?’Holly nodded.She’d thought she would be the one to ask the questions.She felt that she was being dragged along by this assertive woman and had the sense that she was losing control of the situation.‘What did you make of him?’Holly hesitated.She could hardly gossip about other witnesses.Jane didn’t wait and answered her own question.‘He’s a horrible man.The last priest was lovely.Gentle, and the women liked him.Peter finds us incomprehensible.He’s anxious that the press will pick up the Haven connection between Margaret and Dee.Is that likely, do you think? He would rather that we just went away.’‘I don’t know.We haven’t said anything.’ They were walking along a footpath that skirted the edge of a bare field.A small flock of brightly coloured finches fed on dead thistle heads.‘What’s it like working for Vera Stanhope?’ Jane sounded amused.Holly paused, torn between loyalty and a desire to let off steam.In the end she restrained herself.‘Interesting,’ she said.‘Inspector Stanhope is a fine detective.’Jane chuckled and Holly walked ahead to talk to the women.This route-march might be the only opportunity she’d have, and she had to get something to take back to Vera.At first Emily had nothing useful to say.She was preoccupied with the prospect of getting home for Christmas.‘My mother thinks it might work this time.We’ve talked about my going back to school to retake my A levels.’ The voice wistful and not very optimistic.‘Where do you go to school?’‘St Anne’s in town, but Mummy thinks I might be better at the local comp.Less stress.I’m not sure, though.I think that might be a bit scary.I’ve never been at a school where there were boys.’ She blinked and was quiet for a while.Holly thought this fragile young woman would never survive for a week in a big high school.Her parents had saved hard for her to go private.‘Margaret was going to come and visit, to see how I was getting on,’ Emily said.She turned to Holly and her voice was pleading [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]