‘Mr and Mrs Ryder are outside, Coroner.’
‘Thank you, Jenny, please show them in.’
A few seconds later, two old people stood in the entrance to Mrs Challinor’s office.
‘Please come in.’ She stood up and placed another chair six feet in front of her desk. The husband, dressed in an old-fashioned Mackintosh, helped his more frail wife to sit down first, before taking off his mask and sitting next to her.
Mrs Challinor took the file from the left-hand side of her desk and began speaking. ‘Good morning, it’s great to see you both again. I have some good news; the Secretary of State for Justice has approved your request for an inquest into your daughter’s disappearance and, if it can be shown she hasn’t been seen for the last eleven years, I will be able to issue a presumption of death certificate which has the same legal standing as a normal death certificate.’
The couple looked at each other and the man touched the back of his wife’s wrinkled hand.
‘Could you explain the certificate again, so we understand it?’
‘A presumption of death occurs when a person is legally declared dead despite the absence of direct proof of the person’s death, such as the finding of remains or a body. Such a declaration is typically made when a person has been missing for an extended period and in the absence of any evidence the person is still alive.’
‘Our daughter, Jane, disappeared in June 2009, and nobody has seen her since.’
‘That’s why the Secretary of State has approved the inquest. Only about ten of these cases come to light each year.’
‘After all these years…’ The wife spoke for the first time, but didn’t finish her sentence. It was as if she was heavily drugged or sedated.
‘I am so sorry for your loss.’
‘Jane was such a sweet girl…’
The husband patted the back of his wife’s hand again. ‘With this certificate we can wind up our daughter’s affairs?’
‘It’s exactly the same as a death certificate.’
‘You see, she has insurance, and she’s the beneficiary in our will. We don’t have long left so we need to sort this all out before we go.’
‘If you don’t mind me asking, why did you wait so long? You could have applied to the High Court after seven years.’
The wife dropped her head. It was the husband who answered in a low voice. ‘We always thought she would come back.’ A long pause. ‘She didn’t tell us she was going, and we’re sure Jane would have let us know if she wanted to leave. But we haven’t heard from her at all, not a letter or a phone call in all these years.’ There was another long pause and his voice became stronger. ‘Last year, during lockdown, when there was just Margaret and myself in the house, we missed her so much.’
There was a long pause. Mrs Challinor was about to explain the inquest procedure but the husband began talking again.
‘Then something happened which helped us decide we had to do something. Jane is never coming back to us, we know now.’
Mrs Challinor wanted to reach across the desk and hug this man, but she didn’t. Instead she asked, ‘What happened?’
The man glanced across at his wife and she nodded, almost imperceptibly. ‘Marjorie has cancer, Mrs Challinor. A particularly virulent form of leukaemia, according to the doctors. We don’t know how long she has left.’
‘I am so sorry, Mrs Ryder, if I’d have known, I would have come to your home with this information.’
‘We don’t like to make a fuss, Mrs Challinor. And it’s good to get out of the house, we were locked up for so long.’
‘Is there anything I can do?’
‘You can make the inquest happen as quickly as you can.’
The wife spoke, her voice quiet and weak. ‘What will happen during the inquest?’
‘According to the Presumption of Death Act of 2013, the inquest strives to bring any suspicious circumstances to light. I will call on the police and any witnesses who saw your daughter on the day of her disappearance to give evidence. The most important question I will ask is if senior officers believe your daughter is no longer alive.’
‘And then you will declare she is dead?’
Mrs Challinor nodded. ‘And I can issue the certificate.’
‘Immediately?’
Mrs Challinor frowned. ‘As soon as I can.’
‘When will the inquest be held?’
‘It’s just a question of finding a time in the calendar. Usually, these types of inquests take less than a day.’ Mrs Challinor pressed a button on her intercom. ‘Jenny, can you come in, please?’
A minute later the door opened and Jenny entered the room in a waft of Chanel No. 19.
‘This is my office manager, Jenny Oldfield. How quickly can we arrange a presumption of death inquest?’
‘Is a jury involved?’
Mrs Challinor shook her head. ‘A jury won’t be necessary.’
Jenny consulted her diary. ‘You are in court all this week and next week…’ She turned the page. ‘You have the Curran inquest on Thursday and Friday.’
‘So we could do Monday or Tuesday?’
‘We have to give the witnesses notice of the inquest. The very earliest is next Monday, but it is a rush, Coroner, we don’t know if they will be available and Mr Ridpath will need to interview them beforehand. I would advise a later date would be better.’
‘OK,’ Mrs Challinor said doubtfully, ‘we need to move quickly on this one. Give me the earliest possible date, Jenny.’
‘I’ll get on it, Coroner.’
She started to leave.
‘And Jenny, can you get Ridpath to call me? I need to see him as soon as possible.’
‘He’s at the incident in Northenden, but he’ll be back for the work-in-progress.’
Mrs Challinor glanced across at the Ryders sitting quietly opposite her. ‘We need to get moving on this as soon as possible. I’ll speak to him after our meeting.’