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‘And she said, “Help me, she’s gone under”?’ asked Strike.
‘Ah, something like that,’ said Leonard. ‘Than she says, “We wus over hare” and goes running off to—’
‘No, she navver,’ said Shelley. ‘She asked us to git the coastguard fust.’
‘No, she navver,’ said Leonard. ‘She showed us the stuff fust.’
‘No, she navver,’ said Shelley, ‘she said, “Git the coastguard, git the coastguard.”’
‘’Ow come I seen the stuff, then?’
‘You seen the stuff ahter you come back, you dozy foal,’ said Shelley, to further chuckles from the sofa.
‘What stuff was this?’ Strike asked.
‘Towels and clothes – the little gal’s driss and shoes,’ said Shelley. ‘She took me over to tham, and whan I seen the shoes, I realised it was a kid. Orful,’ she said, but her tone was matter-of-fact. Strike could tell that the drowning had receded into the distant past for the Heatons. Such shock as it might have caused them two decades ago had long since subsided.
‘I come along with yarsalves,’ said Leonard stubbornly. ‘I warn’t gonna call up the coastguard fur a dog. I wus there, I seen the shoes—’
‘All right, Leonard, you wus with us, ha’it your own way,’ said Shelley, rolling her eyes.
‘So then I go to phone the coastguard,’ said Leonard, satisfied.
‘And you stayed with Cherie, Mrs Heaton?’
‘Ah, and I said to har, “The hell was you doing in the water, this hour of the morning?”’
‘And what did she say?’ asked Strike.
‘Said the little gal wanted a paddle.’
‘I said to Shelley ahter,’ interjected Leonard, ‘“thass what the word “no”’s for. We see kids like that hare avery summer, spoiled as hell. We navver had any ourselves—’
‘How’m I supposed to manage kids? I’ve got my hands full with you, breaking your bloody legs playing minigolf,’ said Shelley, drawing more giggles from the sofa. ‘I should tell you no more often.’
‘You tell me no plenny, thass why we ha’n’t got kids,’ said Leonard, which provoked shrieks of laughter from George, Gillian and Suzy and another cuff from his smirking wife.
‘Did Cherie tell you what had happened in the sea?’ Strike asked Shelley patiently.
‘Ah, she said the little gal went too deep and went under, said she tried to reach har and couldn’t, so she swum back to shore. Than she seen us and come a-running.’
‘And how did Cherie seem to you? Upset?’
‘More scared’n upset, I thowt,’ said Shelley.
‘Shell din’t like har,’ said Leonard.
‘He liked har, ’cause he was gitting an arly morning eyeful,’ said Shelley, while the chorus on the sofa chuckled. ‘She said to me, “I nearly drowned mysalf, the current’s right strong.” Looking fur sympathy for harsalf, and thar’s a kid dead.’
‘You’ve olluz been hard on—’
‘I weren’t the one with the hard on, Len,’ said Shelley.
The trio on the sofa shrieked with scandalised laughter, and both Heatons threw a triumphant glance at Strike, as if to say they doubted he’d ever been entertained like this during an investigation. The detective’s jaw was starting to ache with all the fake smiling he was having to do.
‘An’ she giggled and all,’ Shelley told Strike, over the others’ laughter. ‘I said to har, put your clothes back on, no point standing there like that. “Oh yeah,” she said, an’ she giggled.’
‘Narves,’ said Leonard. ‘Shock.’
