Free The Betrayal of Trust by Susan Hill

sandwich thenwent back to stand at the window looking down on the close. People were walking about – lawyers and accountants going out to lunch, a couple with a pushchair, a woman carrying a pile of filing boxes. Cars driving slowly up and parking in front of various houses, some of which still belonged to the cathedral but were now mostly offices. It was odd to be here in the middle of a weekday.
    Cat hadphoned to tell him how John Lowther had been at the trustees meeting.
    ‘He’s seems broken. He’s been living with it for all this time, not knowing. He must have felt in his heart that she was dead but there was always a thread of hope.’
    ‘And I cut that.’
    ‘In a way.’
    ‘Oh, don’t worry. I wouldn’t be where I am if I ever blamed myself for being the messenger.’
    And yet he did. Some part of himfelt guilty.
    He went back to the table and opened the file that contained the first interviews.
    The mother of Harriet’s friend Katie Cadsden.
    Katie herself.
    A man who had been clipping a hedge a few houses down from theirs and remembered Harriet walking past – he had moved his ladder for her and had smiled.
    A van driver on the main road who had seen her standing at the bus stop.
    The busdriver.
    Passengers on the bus.
    One of the passengers thought there had been two people at the stop, Harriet and a middle-aged woman. The bus driver did not remember.
    The van driver a second time. The man clipping the hedge again.
    Sir John Lowther. His wife.
    Harriet’s teachers. Headmistress. Friends. The hairdresser.
    It was the usual stuff.
    He leaned back and finished his coffee.
Mrs Frances
    Cadsden, age 44, Alflyn, Lea Close.
    ‘Harriet often came over. We’re lucky enough to have a tennis court – it’s not in a very good state but they can get a game. She’d arranged to come that Friday and her mother dropped her off at about ten, I suppose. They went straight out to play. The dog was being a nuisance, chasing the ball, so Harriet brought him back into the house at some point. She hada drink of water and they played again.
    ‘They had lunch. I made a cheese salad and there was some fruit cake and apples. Harriet was her usual self. Quite chatty. She’s always very helpful, you know, clears the plates, puts things away. I like having her – some of Katie’s other friends are pretty casual, never think of doing anything. Not Harriet. They went up to Katie’s room with cans of Coke.Played music and so on. I could hear them talking. They had another game of tennis, and then Harriet had to go. She said she was catching the bus on Parkside Drive – they come about every half an hour – she’d done that before plenty of times. It’s a handy bus, takes you right into the square. She was meeting her mother at the hairdresser, and they were going to buy a couple of things for school– I know she wanted a new cover for her tennis racket too, she was hoping they’d get that. But Harriet wasn’t spoiled. She didn’t just ask and get. I saw her off – stood and watched her go down the road … the man a few doors along was clipping his hedge and he moved his ladder for her to get by. She turned round and waved and then I went in. I didn’t see her reach the corner. Well, I didn’t needto. She’s fifteen, they don’t want to be made to feel like little children again, do they? That’s all. She was fine, absolutely fine. Didn’t seem to have anything on her mind, or to be worried. But she never does. She’s just a normal girl. Like Katie. Just a lovely, normal girl.’
Ronald Pyment, age 60, Haven, Lea Close.
    ‘I remember it all right. I was taking up a bit of the pavement with my ladderand I’d laid some tarpaulin on the ground to catch the hedge clippings. I was a bit in people’s way but I was trying to get a move on and it’s a quiet sort of road, not many walking by. Then she came along, been at the Cadsdens’. I’d seen her with their Katie. She had her tennis racket and bag – at