comfortable. Have a seat – I’ll make a cup of tea in a minute. Sorry, Terry’s teething. I’ve been trying to settle him down for his afternoon nap.’
She suddenly turned and bolted upstairs, clearly nonplussed and upset by their presence, and Hillary shot Jimmy a quick, speaking look. Careful not to be overheard, they made their way to the lounge and shut the door behind them.
‘We’ve certainly thrown her for a loop,’ Jimmy said, glancing around. The lounge was small, and again carpeted in beige throughout. A neutral magnolia wash covered the plastered walls, and a substantial three-piece suite in coffee-coloured hard-wearing cotton took up most of the room. A large-screen television hung on one wall, and a large bunch of rust-coloured chrysanthemums sat in a pot on a windowsill.
‘Yes. We’re an unwelcome blast from her past all right,’ Hillary agreed, taking one of the armchairs and finding it surprisingly comfortable. Jimmy took a seat on the sofa.
Eventually, the noise from upstairs abated, and a few minutes later, Darla joined them. In spite of her promise of tea, none was forthcoming as she somewhat reluctantly took the armchair opposite Hillary.
‘So this is about Rowan, you say?’ Darla began diffidently. ‘I have to say, all of that seems like another lifetime ago now. Uni, and all that. We were all so young.’
She was only in her early thirties now, Hillary thought with amusement tinged with envy. Wait until you’re fifty. Still, Darla did look tired, and there were rings around her eyes. No doubtmotherhood had made her feel far more mature than her actual years would indicate.
‘You got your degree?’ Hillary decided to ease her into the interview gently. ‘English lit, wasn’t it? That’s the same degree I took, but I expect the texts were very different.’
‘Yes. I’m a teacher now. Well, on maternity leave at the moment. I work at the Forsyte Academy. You may know it?’
Hillary did. It was a private school for girls between the ages of sixteen and eighteen. Its sole purpose was to take the brightest and the best and groom them to Oxbridge standard. Or Durham, at a pinch. No doubt the pay was significant, the work hardly arduous, and the kudos of working there would delight the most snobbish of standards.
‘Very nice,’ Hillary said, and meant it. ‘And your husband?’
‘Oh, he works for the
Oxford Times
. A financial correspondent.’
‘Does he know about Rowan?’ Hillary probed carefully.
Darla jerked a little in her seat. ‘No. Well, I mean, not really. He knows I had boyfriends before I met him, of course. Terence is a bit older than me. I met him when his daughter from his first marriage attended the academy. But I never told him about Rowan, I mean, all the trouble…. It just seemed so long ago.’
Hillary nodded. ‘Yes, I understand. He’s maybe a bit conservative in his outlook, and you saw no reason to go into details?’ she guessed, careful to keep her voice non-judgemental.
Darla flushed guiltily. ‘Well, there was no reason to. Not really. I mean, we don’t know what really happened to Rowan, do we? I mean, no one was ever caught. And it was really nothing to do with me.’
Hillary’s eyebrow lifted slightly, but she made no comment, and Darla, as if sensing that her last statement might have sounded, at the very least, disingenuous, again shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
‘I just mean that I didn’t have anything to do with it, or know what happened, so it was nothing to do with me in that sense,’ she expanded on the theme nervously.
Hillary nodded.
‘Terence doesn’t have to know, does he?’ she went on breathlessly . ‘His mother is the daughter of a Tory peer, and, well, she’s a bit of a dragon about some things. She hates scandal, and fuss, and, well, she’s never really liked me. Terence’s first wife was the daughter of her old schoolfriend, and they’re still very close. She never approved of the divorce, and blames
She suddenly turned and bolted upstairs, clearly nonplussed and upset by their presence, and Hillary shot Jimmy a quick, speaking look. Careful not to be overheard, they made their way to the lounge and shut the door behind them.
‘We’ve certainly thrown her for a loop,’ Jimmy said, glancing around. The lounge was small, and again carpeted in beige throughout. A neutral magnolia wash covered the plastered walls, and a substantial three-piece suite in coffee-coloured hard-wearing cotton took up most of the room. A large-screen television hung on one wall, and a large bunch of rust-coloured chrysanthemums sat in a pot on a windowsill.
‘Yes. We’re an unwelcome blast from her past all right,’ Hillary agreed, taking one of the armchairs and finding it surprisingly comfortable. Jimmy took a seat on the sofa.
Eventually, the noise from upstairs abated, and a few minutes later, Darla joined them. In spite of her promise of tea, none was forthcoming as she somewhat reluctantly took the armchair opposite Hillary.
‘So this is about Rowan, you say?’ Darla began diffidently. ‘I have to say, all of that seems like another lifetime ago now. Uni, and all that. We were all so young.’
She was only in her early thirties now, Hillary thought with amusement tinged with envy. Wait until you’re fifty. Still, Darla did look tired, and there were rings around her eyes. No doubtmotherhood had made her feel far more mature than her actual years would indicate.
‘You got your degree?’ Hillary decided to ease her into the interview gently. ‘English lit, wasn’t it? That’s the same degree I took, but I expect the texts were very different.’
‘Yes. I’m a teacher now. Well, on maternity leave at the moment. I work at the Forsyte Academy. You may know it?’
Hillary did. It was a private school for girls between the ages of sixteen and eighteen. Its sole purpose was to take the brightest and the best and groom them to Oxbridge standard. Or Durham, at a pinch. No doubt the pay was significant, the work hardly arduous, and the kudos of working there would delight the most snobbish of standards.
‘Very nice,’ Hillary said, and meant it. ‘And your husband?’
‘Oh, he works for the
Oxford Times
. A financial correspondent.’
‘Does he know about Rowan?’ Hillary probed carefully.
Darla jerked a little in her seat. ‘No. Well, I mean, not really. He knows I had boyfriends before I met him, of course. Terence is a bit older than me. I met him when his daughter from his first marriage attended the academy. But I never told him about Rowan, I mean, all the trouble…. It just seemed so long ago.’
Hillary nodded. ‘Yes, I understand. He’s maybe a bit conservative in his outlook, and you saw no reason to go into details?’ she guessed, careful to keep her voice non-judgemental.
Darla flushed guiltily. ‘Well, there was no reason to. Not really. I mean, we don’t know what really happened to Rowan, do we? I mean, no one was ever caught. And it was really nothing to do with me.’
Hillary’s eyebrow lifted slightly, but she made no comment, and Darla, as if sensing that her last statement might have sounded, at the very least, disingenuous, again shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
‘I just mean that I didn’t have anything to do with it, or know what happened, so it was nothing to do with me in that sense,’ she expanded on the theme nervously.
Hillary nodded.
‘Terence doesn’t have to know, does he?’ she went on breathlessly . ‘His mother is the daughter of a Tory peer, and, well, she’s a bit of a dragon about some things. She hates scandal, and fuss, and, well, she’s never really liked me. Terence’s first wife was the daughter of her old schoolfriend, and they’re still very close. She never approved of the divorce, and blames
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