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mother was openly less involved, even complaining when the sewing room on the ground floor, which she never used, was converted to a temporary bedroom. Andrew had never apologised for running into his daughter and was unhappy when the cost of the Kenya trip was not fully refunded. The burden of care fell on Cheryl. Evie had thought that might bring them together, but she was wrong. The factor’s wife, heavily built with a face twisted from permanent scowling, resented what she saw as the extra work, even though Evie had insisted on doing as much for herself as she could. There were nearly five months to go until she started her course at Exeter. She had deliberately chosen a distant university for her history and politics studies.
    Apart from the toxic atmosphere in the Hall – which was nothing to do with her – there was only one problem. Going to uni meant Evie wouldn’t see Nick for many months. He was planning on spending his gap year in the Far East. She wasn’t sure how she was going to cope with that.

19
    Heck rolled over in bed, away from Ag’s warm back. It had been against his abdomen all night and the residual pain from his wound had been soothed. Then he remembered the previous night. She had been accommodating, very much so.
    ‘Where are you going?’ she said, sleepily. ‘It’s a holiday.’
    ‘Got to head in,’ he said, heading for the en suite bathroom. ‘People got stabbed in a brothel.’
    ‘Oh, for goodness sake,’ Ag said, sitting up and ruffling her hair. She usually confined herself to pupil-friendly expressions, though she could swear like a constable when necessary. ‘Can’t Joni and Morrie handle that?’
    ‘They both need careful monitoring. No, Ruth Dickie’s expecting me.’
    Ag sank back on the pillows. ‘We were going to do something with the kids.’
    ‘I’ll try to get back in the afternoon – take them for a kickabout.’
    She laughed. ‘Kat’ll love that.’
    ‘She will, actually. There’s nothing she likes better than sending Luke running around like a rabbit on heat.’
    ‘Go away, you silly man,’ she said, a smile on her lips.
    Driving to Corham, Heck took in the mist rising from the fields. It was another cloudless day, the sun already a bright orb. Birds flitted across the road between the trees like small coils discharging energy. Heck enjoyed the trip every morning. For years he’d gone through the drab suburbs of Newcastle, the traffic thundering along until it ground to a halt in tailbacks. Corham was an efficient place. On the northern side the roads could handle the traffic even during rush hour, while the wide roads in Ironflatts that used to service the steel mill and other heavy industry were never congested now. Besides, there weren’t many cars around early on the first of the May bank holidays.
    He saw Assistant Chief Constable Dickie getting out of her dark green Audi as he pulled into his parking place outside Force HQ. She waited for him, her black jacket and skirt immaculate and her briefcase as full as ever. Until she spoke, she appeared to be ‘Mrs Normal’, her nickname – average height, weight, looks; bobbed mousy hair in an old-fashioned Alice band; a couple of unshowy rings on her left hand. Her husband – she hadn’t takenhis name – really
was
Mr Normal: an insurance broker in Newcastle, who played golf and looked after the garden. The only thing that marked them out was that they didn’t have the standard two children – they didn’t have any. The general feeling was that the ACC didn’t do sex.
    ‘Good morning, Heck,’ she said, a faint smile on her unpainted lips. Make-up was surplus to requirements unless there was a press conference. ‘Busy night.’
    ‘Ma’am.’ Although Ruth Dickie had been a WPC when Heck was already a DI, her rise had been rapid. She was a shrewd operator, good at police politics – Heck’s bugbear – and hardworking. She had taken the weight off her then superiors during the early