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‘What makes you say that?’ he asked, as politely as he could manage.
‘Obviously, the Waces did it,’ said Phillipa. ‘We know that. We’ve always known it.’
He looked down at her, as baffled as he’d have been on meeting an entirely new species.
‘And you don’t want to see them in court?’
‘No,’ said Phillipa defiantly. ‘I simply don’t care. All I want is to forget about the whole bloody thing. My whole childhood – my whole life, before he killed himself – was Allie, Allie, Allie. Allie’s naughty, Allie’s ill, where’s Allie, what shall we do about Allie, Allie’s had a baby, what shall we do about Allie’s baby, let’s throw more money at him, now it’s Allie and Daiyu, you will invite them to your wedding, won’t you, darling, poor Allie, crazy Allie, dead Allie.’
Strike wouldn’t have been surprised to learn it was the first time Phillipa Graves had ever said these things. Her face had turned red and she was shaking slightly, not like her mother, but because every muscle was knotted with rage.
‘And no sooner has he gone than it’s Daiyu, Daiyu, Daiyu. They hardly noticed my first child being born, it was still Allie, all Allie – and Daiyu was a horrible child. We’re not supposed to say it, Nick and I, oh no, I was supposed to stand aside, all over again, for that vile woman’s child, and pretend I loved her and wanted her to come here, to our family home, and inherit it. You think you’re going to be doing something wonderful, don’t you, proving they did it? Well, I’ll tell you what that will achieve. Allie, Allie, Allie for the family, all over again, masses of publicity, my children asked at school all about their murdered cousin and their uncle the suicide – The Stolen Prophet and the Drowned Prophet, I know what they call them – it’ll be books, probably, if you prove they drowned her, not just the newspapers – and my children will have to have Allie hanging over them forever, too. And you think, if you prove they killed her, it’ll stop that damned church? Of course it won’t. The UHC isn’t going anywhere, whatever you might think. So idiots want to go there and be whipped by the Waces – well, it’s their choice, isn’t it? Who are you actually helping?’
The front door of Garvestone Hall opened again. Nick walked slowly down onto the gravel, frowning slightly. He was a fit-looking man, Strike saw now: almost as tall as the detective.
‘Ev’rythin’ all right, Pips?’
Phillipa turned to her husband.
‘I’m just telling him,’ she said furiously, ‘how we feel.’
‘You agree with your wife, do you, Mr – sorry, I don’t know your surname,’ said Strike.
‘Delaunay,’ said Nicholas coldly, placing a hand on his wife’s shoulder. ‘Yes, I do. The potential repercussions to our family could be severe. And after all,’ he said, ‘there no bringing Daiyu back, is there?’
‘On the contrary,’ said Strike. ‘My information is, the church brings her back regularly. Well, thanks for your time.’
He heard the slam of the oak front door over the sound of his starting engine. The Labrador, forgotten on the lawn, watched Strike reverse the car then pull away, its tail still vaguely wagging.
39
Six in the fourth place means:
The finest clothes turn to rags.
Be careful all day long.
The I Ching or Book of Changes
Robin’s first five days as a fully committed member of the Universal Humanitarian Church had brought a couple of challenges.
The first was trying to disguise the dirty state of her tracksuit on the morning after her trip into the woods. By good fortune, she was sent with a few others to collect eggs before the sun rose and was able to fake a slip and fall in the chicken coop, which justified the stains. A couple of eagle-eyed church members asked her over breakfast about the nettle stings on her neck and cheek, and she’d told them she thought she might be allergic to something. The unsympathetic response was that ills of the material body reflected the state of the spirit within.
Shortly after breakfast that day, Jonathan Wace left the premises, taking with him several people, including Danny Brockles. All church Principals other than Mazu and Taio also departed. The church members staying behind gathered in the car park to bid Papa J farewell. Wace drove away in a silver Mercedes, while those accompanying him followed in a trail of lesser cars, the crowd behind them cheering and applauding.
That afternoon, two minibuses brought church members who’d been relocated from the Birmingham and Glasgow centres.
Robin was interested in these new arrivals, because Kevin Pirbright had said church members in need of re-indoctrination were sent back to Chapman Farm. Rebellious or dissatisfied people would surely be inclined to talk more freely about the church, so Robin intended to keep an eye on them with a view to inveigling them into conversation.
The newcomer who interested Robin most was the second shaven-headed person she’d seen at Chapman Farm: a sallow-skinned, virtually bald young woman who had very thick eyebrows. She looked grumpy and seemed disinclined to return greetings from people at Chapman Farm, to whom she seemed a familiar figure. Unfortunately, the shaven-headed woman and the other relocated church members were immediately assigned low-status jobs such as laundry and livestock care, whereas Robin was now being fast-tracked through increasingly demanding lectures on church doctrine.
Tuesday afternoon brought the second serious challenge Robin had faced, which made her realise her preparation for going undercover hadn’t been quite as complete as she’d thought.
All new members were collected together and taken once more into the basement room that ran beneath the farmhouse. Robin had started to dread this room, because she’d come to associate it with hours of particularly intense indoctrination. These sessions always seemed to happen in the late afternoon, when energy levels were lowest and hunger at its peak, and the windowless room became claustrophobic and hot. Agreeing with any proposition put to them was the easiest way for members to speed release from the hard floor and the insistent voice of whoever was lecturing them.
This afternoon it was the perennially cheerful Becca who stood waiting for them on the stage in front of the large screen, which was currently blank.
‘I thank you for your service,’ Becca said, putting her hands together and bowing.
