The two women eyed each other, Julia’s chin jutting forward, Dent’s eyebrows raised in a sort of salute.
“Thank you, Mrs. Bradshaw. As you say, Miri is clearly innocent. So,” she paused and looked around at the family grouping, “the three of you were shopping in Fort’s Corner. Was Tara home alone, Miri?”
“Except for Nana,” the girl answered, “and she can’t get out of bed by herself.”
“Oh? What’s wrong with Nana?”
“My mother is terminally ill,” Julia broke in. “She’s only got a matter of weeks left and after what’s happened, it could be days. She’s so weak she needs help to the bathroom.”
“Or she just does it in a pan and we empty it for her,” Miri added, without embarrassment. “She’s been sick for a really long time, but ever since Philip died, she’s been worse.”
“Who’s Philip?” Dent
