Cruel Acts. Jane Casey

No one. She couldn’t seem to get over Jeremy. I mean, the waste of it. She was a gorgeous girl – talented, creative, kind … she deserved so much more. She would have been a wonderful mother. And I know Jeremy wasn’t directly responsible for her death but it was his idea to meet in that horrible pub. Have you been in it?’

      We nodded.

      ‘I wanted to be in the last place where Willa was. Stupid, really, to think she might be hanging around there. She was happiest here, by the sea, so if her spirit is anywhere, it’s here.’ Mrs Howard sniffed, her eyes brimming. ‘It smelled horrible. Stale beer. Cheap air freshener. I sat on the stool where she’d sat, looking at the last things she saw. Maybe someone was watching her while she was in the pub. She had such glorious hair – like a cloak. I always thought she was pure pre-Raphaelite.’

      I could see what Mrs Howard meant. Willa had had a heavy kind of beauty – a strong jaw and straight eyebrows – and her hair had hung down to the small of her back.

      ‘The barman was nice. He gave me a drink on the house. Gin and tonic. Mother’s ruin.’ Mrs Howard began to sob, looking from Derwent to me like a child. ‘That’s all I could think. Mother’s ruin.’

      I put down my clipboard and went to sit beside her, putting my arm around her shoulders. Derwent leaned forward, his face stern.

      ‘Mrs Howard, what happened to Willa was horrendous. You deserve answers and we’ll try to get them for you, I promise.’

      ‘I thought it was all over. I thought he was behind bars and we could move on, whatever that means, because it’s not as if I can forget, is it? But then he got out again. Willa’s brother is getting married next month – his girlfriend is pregnant, in fact, so we’re going to be grandparents. The circle of life, starting again. It was a comfort to me to think of it. But now Stone is out and I know he’s out and I have to think about him all over again.’ She took a few heaving breaths, getting her emotions under control. ‘It was bad enough when he sent the letters.’

      ‘What letters?’

      ‘From prison.’ She sniffed. ‘On her birthday. And at Christmas. As if he had the right to contact us.’

      ‘What did he say?’ Derwent asked, but she shook her head.