Then the woman did respond, just nodding her head a touch to show that she understood.
‘I started him at the nursery at the school in the village. He didn’t want to go at first, they had to drag him off me, and when I went back an hour later he was still sobbing. It broke my heart, but I thought it was for the best. He needed the company. The health visitor said it was the right thing to do. And he did get used to it. He used to go in without screaming, at least. But all the time looking at me with those eyes. Not speaking but the eyes saying, “Don’t make me go in there, Mam. Please don’t make me go.”’ Julie was sitting on the floor, her knees pulled up to her chin, her arms clasped around them. She looked up at the detective, who was still watching and waiting. It came to her suddenly that this woman, large and solid like rock, might once have known tragedy herself. That was why she could sit there without making those stupid, sympathetic noises Sal and the doctor had made. This woman knew that nothing she could say would make it better. But Julie didn’t care about the detective’s sadness and the thought was fleeting. She went back to her story.
‘It was about that time Geoff came home from London. He said the work had dried up, but I heard from his mate that there’d been some row with the foreman. He’s a good worker, Geoff, and he won’t be pissed about. It was a difficult time for him. He was never one for sitting around and he was used to making big money. He put in a new kitchen for me and did up the bathroom. You’d never believe what this place looked like when we first moved in. But then the cash ran out…’