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Strike slammed his hand onto pause, rewound and listened again.
Kevin:… gonna talk t’er… z’gonna meet m…
Farah: (very loudly) Is someone from the church going meet you, Kev…?
Kevin:… ’n’answer f’r it… opey… part’f…
Farah: (insistent) Are you going to meet someone from…?
Kevin:… sh’ad ’ard ti… ’n th’pigs…
Farah: (exasperated) Forget the pigs…
‘Let him talk about the fucking pigs,’ growled Strike at the recorder.
Kevin:… e liked pigs… ew what t’d… ’cos why… ’n I wuz in th’woo… ’n Bec… old me off cuz… ace’s daught… m’sn’t snitch…
Farah:… Daiyu in the woods?
Kevin:… unno… was sh..… ink there was a plot… in it t’gether… alwuz t’geth… f’I’m right… bution… ’n woods… wasn’t a… gale blowing on… ire but too wet… weird’n I… eatened me… an out’f the… ought it was for pun’shmen… ecca tole me… sorry, gotta…
Strike heard a loud clunk, as though a chair had fallen. He had a feeling Kevin might have set off clumsily for the bathroom, possibly to vomit. He kept listening, but nothing whatsoever happened for a further twenty-five minutes except that the Welshmen became ever more rambunctious. At last he heard Farah say,
‘Excuse me… f you’re going… n the loo? He’s wearing a blue…’
Five minutes later, a loud Welsh voice said,
‘’E’s in an ’orrible state, love. You might ’ave to carry ’im ’ome.’
‘Oh, for God’s s… anks for checking, any…’
There was a rustle, the sound of breathing, and the recording ended.
80
External conditions hinder the advance, just as loss of the wheel spokes stops the progress of a wagon.
The I Ching or Book of Changes
Shah departed for Norfolk at midday on Thursday, bearing a letter from Strike instructing Robin to stay beside the plastic rock after reading it, because Shah would be waiting in the vicinity with his car lights off and cutters at the ready to ensure safe passage through the barbed wire. Strike set off for dinner at Lucy’s that evening feeling surprisingly cheerful given that he’d be up at six the following morning to drive to Gloucestershire, and wasn’t looking forward to the evening ahead.
Although Ted was pleased to see his nephew, it was immediately clear to Strike that his uncle had deteriorated even in the few weeks since he’d last seen him. There was a vagueness, a sense of disconnection, that hadn’t been there before. Ted smiled and nodded, but Strike wasn’t convinced he was following the conversation. His uncle watched Lucy’s three sons bustle in and out of the kitchen with an air of bemusement and treated them with a formal courtesy that suggested he wasn’t sure who they were.
Strike and Lucy’s attempts to draw Ted out about where and how he wanted to live went nowhere, because Ted tended to agree with every proposition put to him, even if they were contradictory. He agreed that he wanted to stay in Cornwall, that it might be better to move to London, that he needed a bit more help, then, with a sudden flicker of the old Ted, stated spontaneously that he was managing just fine and nobody ought to be worrying about him. All through dinner, Strike sensed tension between his sister and brother-in-law, and sure enough, once Ted was settled in the sitting room in front of the television with a cup of decaffeinated coffee, there was an uncomfortable three-way conversation in which Greg made plain his sense of ill-usage.
‘She wants him to live with us,’ he told Strike, scowling.
‘I said, if we sell the house in Cornwall, we could build an extension on the back,’ Lucy told her brother.
‘And lose half the garden,’ said Greg.
‘I don’t want him going into a home,’ said Lucy tearfully. ‘Joan would’ve hated the idea of him in a home.’
‘What’re you going to do, give up work?’ Greg demanded of his wife. ‘Because he’s going to be a full-time job if he gets much worse.’
‘I think,’ said Strike, ‘we need to get him a full medical assessment before we decide anything.’
‘That’s just kicking the can down the road,’ said Greg, whose irritation was undoubtedly informed by the fact that Strike was unlikely to be discommoded by any change in Ted’s living arrangements.
