Hanging Hill - Mo Hayder [1]
‘Nothing like him, thank God. But she’s asked if she can speak to you.’
‘What does she want?’
Zoë shrugged. ‘To apologize, I suppose.’
‘What did you say?’
‘What do you think I said? No. Of course the answer’s no. She’s gone inside.’ She glanced over her shoulder at the doors to the church. The vicar was standing there, talking in a quiet voice to Steve Finder, Sally’s new boyfriend. He was a good man, Zoë thought, the sort who could hold Sally together without ever suffocating her. She needed someone like that. He glanced up, caught Zoë looking at him and nodded. He held up his wrist, tapping his watch to indicate it was time. The vicar put his hands on the doors, ready to draw them closed. Zoë got to her feet. ‘Come on. We may as well get it over with.’
Sally didn’t move. ‘I need to ask you something, Zoë. About what happened.’
Zoë hesitated. This wasn’t the right time to be talking about it. They couldn’t change the past by discussing it. But she sat down again. ‘OK.’
‘It’s going to sound strange.’ Sally turned the bits of tissue over and over in her hands. ‘But do you think, looking back … do you think you could have seen it coming?’
‘Oh, Sally – no. No, I don’t. Being a cop doesn’t make you a psychic. Whatever the public wish.’
‘I just wondered. Because …’
‘Because what?’
‘Because looking back I think I could have seen it. I think I got a warning about it. I know that sounds nuts, but I think I did. A warning. Or a premonition. Or some kind of foresight, whatever you call it.’
‘No, Sally. That’s crazy.’
‘I know – and at the time that’s what I thought. I thought it was stupid. But now I can’t help thinking that if I’d been paying attention, if I’d foreseen all of this …’ she opened her hands to indicate the church, the hearse pulled up at the bottom of the steps, the outside-broadcast units and the photographers ‘… I could have stopped it.’
Zoë thought about this for a while. There had been a time, not so long ago, when she’d have laughed at a statement like that. But now she wasn’t so sure. The world was a strange place. She glanced up at Steve and the vicar, then back at her sister. ‘You never told me about a “warning”. What sort of warning? When did it happen?’
‘When?’ Sally shook her head. ‘I’m not completely sure. But I think it was the day the business with Lorne Wood started.’
Part One
1
It had been a spring afternoon in early May, the time of year when the evenings were lengthening, and the primulas and tulips under the trees had long frayed and gone blowsy. The signs of warmer weather had made everyone optimistic, and for the first time in months Sally had come to Isabelle’s for lunch. The sun was still high in the sky and their teenage children were out in the garden, while the two women opened a bottle of wine and stayed in the kitchen. The windows were open, the gingham curtains fluttering lightly in the breeze, and from her place at the table Sally watched the teenagers. They’d known each other since nursery, but it wasn’t until the last twelve months or so that Millie had shown any interest in coming up here to Isabelle’s house. Now, however, they were a gang – a proper little group – two girls, two boys, two years apart in age, but at the same private school, Kingsmead. Sophie, Isabelle’s youngest at fifteen, was doing handstands in the garden, her dark ringlets bouncing all over the place. Millie, the same age, but a head shorter, was holding her legs up. The girls were dressed in similar jeans and halter-necks, though Millie’s clothes were faded and threadbare in comparison to Sophie’s.
‘I’ll have to do something about that,’ Sally said ruminatively. ‘Her school uniform is falling to pieces too. I went to Matron to see if I could get a second-hand one, but she didn’t have any left in Millie’s size. Seems all the parents at Kingsmead want second-hand now.’
‘That’s a sign of the times,’ said Isabelle. She was making treacle tart – weighting the pastry base with the handful of marbles she kept in a jar on top of the fridge. The butter and golden syrup