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‘Well, I’m glad you don’t think we should let Will Edensor rot,’ he told Robin.
‘Why?’
‘Because,’ said Strike, ‘he’s just turned up at the office.’
103
In this hexagram we are reminded of youth and folly… When the spring gushes forth, it does not know at first where it will go. But its steady flow fills up the deep place blocking its progress…
The I Ching or Book of Changes
Robin entered the office first, with Strike just behind her. Will Edensor was sitting on the sofa by Pat’s desk, wearing his blue tracksuit, which was not only filthy, but torn at the knees. He looked even thinner than when Robin had last seen him, although perhaps she’d simply become re-habituated to people who looked decently fed. At Will’s feet sat an old plastic bag that appeared to contain some large, solid object, and on his lap sat little Qing, who was also wearing a blue tracksuit, and eating a chocolate biscuit with an expression of ecstasy on her face.
Will turned scarlet when he saw Robin.
‘Hi Will,’ she said.
Will looked down at the floor. Even his ears were red.
‘That child needs some proper food,’ said Pat, sounding as though this was Strike and Robin’s fault. ‘We’ve only got biscuits.’
‘Good thinking,’ said Strike, pulling out his wallet, ‘could you get us all some pizza, Pat?’
Pat took the notes Strike had handed her, pulled on her coat and left the office. Robin wheeled Pat’s computer chair out from behind the desk to sit down at a short distance from Will and Qing. Strike, conscious of looming over everyone, went to the cupboard to take out one of the folding plastic chairs. Will sat hunchbacked, holding his daughter, blushing furiously, staring at the carpet. Qing, who was munching her biscuit, was easily the most at ease person in the room.
‘It’s great to see you, Will,’ said Robin. ‘Hello, Qing,’ she added, smiling.
‘More!’ said the toddler, stretching out her hands towards the biscuit tin on Pat’s desk.
Robin took out two chocolate fingers and gave them to her. Will remained hunched over, as though in pain, holding Qing around her middle. Strike, who had no idea that the last time Will had seen Robin he’d been naked and masturbating – Robin’s account had left her partner assuming both had been fully clothed when Will had thrown his punch – assumed his embarrassment stemmed from having hit her.
‘How did you get out?’ Robin asked Will, while Qing munched joyfully.
She hadn’t forgotten what Will had done to her in the Retreat Room, but at the moment that was of far less importance to her than the extraordinary fact that he’d left Chapman Farm.
‘Climbed over the wall at the blind spot,’ he muttered. ‘Same as you.’
‘By night?’
‘No, because I had to bring Qing.’
He forced himself to look up at Robin, but was unable to hold her gaze long, and instead addressed the leg of Pat’s desk.
‘I’ve got to find out where Lin is,’ he said, a little desperately.
‘We’re looking for her,’ Robin assured him.
‘Why?’
‘Because,’ said Robin, before Strike could say anything tactless about Lin’s potential usefulness in discrediting the church, ‘we care about her. I was there, remember, when she was miscarrying?’
‘Oh, yeah,’ said Will. ‘I forgot… they’ve got centres in Birmingham and Glasgow, you know,’ he added.
‘Yes, we know,’ said Robin. ‘But we think she might be in Dr Zhou’s clinic, just outside London.’
‘Has he got a clinic?’ said Will naively. ‘I thought he was just the church’s doctor?’
‘No, he’s a doctor on the outside, too,’ said Robin.
