Veronica sat up even straighter and gave Banks a look as cold and grey as the North Sea. ‘Believe what you want, Chief Inspector. I’ve told you what I know. Caroline lived in London for a number of years. She didn’t have a very happy time there. What she was working through in analysis was private.’

‘How was she when you met her?’

‘When I…?’

‘When you first met.’

‘I’ve told you. She was living with Nancy Wood. She seemed happy enough. It wasn’t a… it was just a casual relationship. They shared a flat, I believe, but there was no deep commitment. What else can I say?’

‘Was she more, or less, disturbed back then than she has been lately?’

‘Oh, more. Definitely more. As I said, she seemed happy enough. At least on the surface. But she had some terrible problems to wrestle with.’

‘What problems?’

‘Personal ones. Psychological problems, like the ones we all have. Haven’t you read the poem: “They fuck you up, your mum and dad. They don’t mean to, but they do.”’ She reddened when she’d finished, as if just realizing there had been a four-letter word in the literary quotation. ‘Philip Larkin.’

Banks, who had heard from Susan all about the Hartley home, could certainly believe that. He knew something about Larkin’s poetry, too, through Gristhorpe and a recent Channel Four special, and made a mental note to have another look at the poem later.

‘But she was making progress?’ he asked.

‘Yes. Slowly, she was becoming whole. The scars don’t go away, but you recognize them and learn to live with them. The better you understand why you are what you are, the more you’re able to alter destructive patterns of behaviour.’ She managed a wry smile at herself. ‘I’m sorry if I sound like a commercial for my therapist, but you did ask.’

‘Was anything bothering her lately? Was she especially upset about anything?’

Veronica thought for a moment and drank more sherry. Banks was coming to see this as a signal of a forthcoming lie or evasion.

‘Quite the opposite,’ Veronica said finally. ‘As I told you, she was making great progress with regard to her personal problems. Our life together was very happy. And she was excited about the play. It was only a small part, but the director led her to believe there would be better ones to follow. I don’t know if Mr Conran was leading her to expect too much, but from what she told me, he seemed convinced of her talent.’

‘Did you ever meet James Conran?’

‘No. Caroline told me all this.’

‘Did she ever tell you that he fancied her?’

Veronica smiled. ‘She said he chatted her up a lot. I think she knew he found her attractive and felt she could use it.’

‘That’s a bit cold-blooded, isn’t it?’

‘Depends on your point of view.’

‘How far was she willing to go?’

Veronica put her glass down. ‘Look, Chief Inspector, I don’t mind answering your questions when they’re relevant, but I don’t see how speaking or implying ill of the dead is going to help you at all.’

Banks leaned forward. ‘Now you listen to me for a moment, Ms Shildon. We’re looking for the person who killed your companion. At the moment we’ve no idea who this person might be. If Caroline did anything that might have led to her death, we need to know, whether it reflects well or badly on her. Now how far was she willing to go with James Conran?’

Veronica, pale and stiff, remained silent a while. When she spoke, it was in a quiet, tired voice. ‘It was only an amateur dramatic society,’ she said. ‘The way you speak, anyone would think we were talking about a movie role. Caroline could flirt and flatter men’s egos easily enough, but that’s as far as she’d go. She wasn’t mercenary or cold.’

‘But she did lead men on?’

‘It was part of her way of dealing with them. If they were willing to be led…’

‘She didn’t sleep with them?’

‘No. And I would have known, believe me.’

‘So everything seemed to be going well for Caroline. There was nothing to worry or upset her?’

Again, the hesitation, the lady-like sip of sherry. ‘No.’

‘It’s best not to hold anything back,’ he said. ‘I’ve already told you, you can’t have any idea what information might be valuable in an investigation like this. Leave decisions like that to us.’

Veronica looked directly at him. He could see courage, pain and stubborn evasion in her eyes. He let the silence stretch, then gave Susan, who had been busy taking notes, a discreet signal to go ahead.

‘Veronica,’ Susan asked softly, ‘did you know about Caroline’s baby?’

This time the reaction was unmistakably honest. She almost spilled her sherry and her eyes widened. ‘What?’

Veronica Shildon certainly hadn’t known about Caroline’s baby, and the fact that she hadn’t known surprised her. Which meant, Banks deduced, that she probably did know a lot more about Caroline than she was willing to let on.

‘Caroline had a baby some years ago,’ Susan went on. We can’t say exactly when, but we were hoping you might be able to help.’

Veronica was able only to shake her head in disbelief.

‘We’re assuming she had it in London,’ Banks said. ‘That’s why anything you can tell us about Caroline’s life there would be a great help.’

‘A baby,’ Veronica echoed. ‘Caroline? She never said a word…’

‘It’s true,’ Susan said.

‘But what happened to it? Where is it?’

‘That’s what we’d like to know,’ Banks said. ‘Did you know that music, the Laudate pueri, was used at burial services for children?’

Veronica looked at him as if she didn’t understand. Her thin, straight lips pressed tight together and a frown spread over her brow from a deep V at the top of her nose. ‘What does that have to do with it?’ she asked.

‘Maybe nothing. But someone put that record on and made sure it was going to stay on. You say it wasn’t yours, so someone must have brought it. Perhaps the killer. You said you like classical music?’

‘Of course. I could hardly have lived with Claude for ten years if I didn’t, could I?’

Banks shrugged. ‘I don’t know. People make the strangest sacrifices for comfort and security.’

‘I might have sacrificed my independence and my pride, Chief Inspector, but my love for music wasn’t feigned, I assure you. I did then and still do enjoy all kinds of classical music.’

‘But Caroline didn’t.’

‘What does it matter? I was quite happy to enjoy my records when she was out.’

Banks, who had often suffered Sandra’s opposition to some of the music he liked, understood that well enough. ‘Is it,’ he asked, ‘the kind of present your husband might have given you?’

‘If you’re expecting me to implicate Claude in this, I won’t do it. We may have separated, but I wish him no harm. Are you trying to suggest that there is some obscure link between this music, the baby and Caroline’s death?’

‘The link seems obvious enough between the first two, Banks said, ‘but as for the rest, I don’t know. If you’d never seen the record before, someone must have brought it over that evening. It would help a lot if we knew who the father of Caroline’s child was.’

Veronica shook her head slowly. ‘I didn’t know. I really didn’t know. About the baby, I mean.’

‘Does it surprise you to discover that Caroline wasn’t exclusively lesbian?’

‘No, it’s not that. After all, I’ve hardly been exclusively so myself, have I? Most people aren’t. Most people like us.’ She tilted her head back and fixed him with a cool, grey look. ‘It might interest you to know, Chief Inspector, just for the record, that I’m not ashamed of what I am, and neither was Caroline. But we weren’t crusaders. We didn’t go around holding hands and mauling one another in public. Nor did we proselytize on behalf of groups or causes that seem to think sexual preference is an important issue in everything from ordination as a Church minister to what kind of breakfast cereal one buys. Like most people’s sex lives, ours was an intimate and private matter. At least it was until the papers got hold of this story. They soon discovered I was married to Claude, and why we parted, and it hasn’t taken them long to guess at the nature of my relationship with Caroline.’