The Outcast Dead by Elly Griffiths

say to a man who has lost his wife? At least if she was religious she could say something about heaven. She thinks of the prayers for the outcast dead.
Not a sparrow falls without our Father in heaven knowing
. Did He know about Ali Barker? Did He care?
    Frank breaks the silence.
    ‘Are you married, Ruth?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘I know you’ve got a daughter. How old is she?’
    Was it only this morning that Frank made Kate’s acquaintance? It seems years ago. Ruth is seized by asudden tiredness. She’d like to put her head on the uneven wooden table and sleep for a week.
    ‘Her name’s Kate. She’ll be three in November. I’m not with her father. I never have been.’
    As she says this, she wonders if it’s true. She’s never been in a proper relationship with Nelson but, over the last three years, there have been times when she’s felt closer to him than to anyone in the world.
    ‘Tell me more about Phil,’ says Frank. ‘Is he a bit of an asshole?’
    Ruth laughs, grateful that she doesn’t have to talk about herself anymore and always glad of an excuse to slag off the head of department.
    *
    Nelson’s meeting is not going so well. Maddie accepts a peppermint tea but shudders at the thought of eating anything. She’s too thin, thinks Nelson. His own daughters are slim, but when she takes off her jacket, Maddie’s arms are wand-like, the bones too near the surface. She’s nervous too, picking at the skin around her nails and jumping when anyone enters the cafe. But there’s also a confidence there, the self-assurance that allowed her to gatecrash a press conference and demand a hearing. Perhaps it’s not so much confidence as belief, a complete and utter conviction that she is in the right. Maddie might be shaking in her thin T-shirt but she glares at Nelson like a martyr about to go to the stake. She reminds him a lot of Cathbad.
    ‘Why was it so important for you to see me?’ he asks. ‘I saw you at the station the other day.’
    Maddie pushes back the hair from her face. Her eyes are extraordinary, bright green with flecks of gold. Nelson tries to remember what Cathbad’s eyes are like, just your average set he thinks, nothing like this.
    ‘I wanted to stop you,’ says Maddie. ‘I know Liz is innocent. She used to babysit for the little ones sometimes. She wouldn’t hurt a fly.’
    ‘She’s a friend of your mum’s isn’t she?’
    ‘Yes. Liz was training to be a nurse but she did some babysitting to make extra money. She used to look after the boys, and Scarlet when she came along. She became a family friend. Mum wasn’t very well after Scarlet and Liz was really kind. Used to take us all out to give Mum a break. I was twelve when Scarlet was born and I thought I was grown up but I wasn’t really. Liz understood that. She used to talk to me. I could tell her things I couldn’t tell Mum and Dad. Stuff about school, friendships, things like that. ‘
    Nelson remembers Maddie in the days after Scarlet’s disappearance. They had questioned her, he remembers, but she was out on the day that her little sister vanished. Scarlet had been playing in the garden with her seven-year-old twin brothers. One minute there and the next minute gone. Lost forever. For almost the first time, he wonders what that was like for Maddie. She was older, she may have felt responsible, she was certainly aware of her parents’ suffering. It’s interesting too that Delilah hadn’t been well after Scarlet’s birth. Liz would have witnessed this. She’d been kind, Maddie said. Was she alsostoring up symptoms for later? How long after Scarlet’s death were Liz’s children born? He’ll have to check.
    ‘I’m sure Liz was kind,’ he says, choosing his words carefully. ‘If she did this thing, it was probably because she was ill.’
    ‘Is that what you’re saying?’ says Maddie quickly. ‘It’s all down to post-natal depression?’
    ‘I can’t discuss the case with you,’ says Nelson. ‘You know