The Long Call (Two Rivers #1) - Ann Cleeves Page 0,60

His parents had always found it a little intimidating; it was also where the elders met and decisions were taken.

As Matthew remembered, the Salters spent most of their life in a room at the back, next to the kitchen, and he’d been taken there too on more social occasions. That had been their private space, more comfortable and more welcoming. He rang the doorbell and Dennis appeared, older of course, but recognizable. A generous lion’s head, made even bigger by a mane of white hair, large features.

Matthew held out his hand. ‘Matthew Venn. Perhaps you remember me.’

‘Of course I remember you. Come on in, man, don’t stand out there on the doorstep.’ The arms wide now in greeting. Matthew was astonished by the response. Did Salter think he’d returned to the fold? Or had time mellowed him? Perhaps he was less dogmatic now than Dorothy, Matthew’s mother, despite his position of authority. Perhaps he welcomed sinners into his home as well as the chosen. ‘You’ll be here about Christine.’

‘Yes, she’s still not turned up and we’re getting concerned.’

Of course, Dorothy would have phoned Dennis Salter and told him that she’d called the police in the form of her son. She would probably have asked his permission first. Matthew’s visit wouldn’t be any kind of surprise to the man.

‘You were taking care of her so Susan could go to my father’s funeral?’

‘We were. At least Grace was. I was at the funeral of course. I couldn’t miss that. Dorothy wanted me to lead the service. I can’t tell you how distressed we are about the confusion. I’m still not quite sure how it happened.’ He showed Matthew into the dark front room; this was official, then, rather than a family matter, despite the man’s apparent contrition.

‘Is Mrs Salter at home? If so, it would be useful to talk to her too.’

‘Do you really need to speak to Grace? She feels as dreadful about this as I do, though she wasn’t responsible. Not at all. It was all my fault.’ Salter paused. ‘She’s not a well woman, and the unexpected can throw her off balance. I’d hate this to make her ill again.’

Matthew remembered the whispers surrounding Grace Salter now. There’d been times when she hadn’t been to meetings; there’d been talk about ‘nerves’, a spell in the psychiatric hospital at the other end of the county. Women had been glad to look after Dennis Salter, delivering food parcels and casseroles. Matthew couldn’t remember anyone offering to visit Grace.

‘I won’t keep her for long, but I’d like to ask her a few questions. Christine’s been missing for a day and a night. We’re taking this extremely seriously.’

‘Of course. If you think it’s important to speak to her … We all want Christine found.’

Matthew sat on his own at the long table, while Dennis disappeared to fetch his wife. This house was very different from the little cottage on the edge of the creek and Matthew wondered how Christine had settled here on the night of his father’s funeral. The Salters had never had children and when Matthew knew her, Grace had never worked away from the home. Her only sense of the outside world would have come from Dennis when he returned from his office, and from the other Brethren. How would she have coped with her niece? Matthew wondered how many younger people still belonged to the community and thought Grace might not be used to dealing with people different in age from herself and her husband. He suspected members were all of his mother’s generation now, slowly dying off. In twenty years, the Barum Brethren, which had seemed so powerful in his childhood, would no longer exist.

The couple returned. Grace looked like a scarecrow, tall and stick-like, very thin, with wild grey hair. Her eyes were grey too. She wore trousers and a hand-knitted jumper that swamped her. It seemed she’d been crying and she twisted a handkerchief in her hands.

‘It’s such a terrible thing to have happened.’ Her voice was a surprise, more educated than her sister’s, precise. The three of them sat at one end of the long table, as if they were part of a committee, waiting for other attendees to arrive.

‘Could you talk me through the events of the last few days? I understand that Dennis picked Christine up from her mother’s house before the funeral.’

‘Yes, she doesn’t go to the day centre on a Monday.’ Dennis did the talking. ‘She spent the day and the