‘Fuck’s sake,’ muttered Strike. The group of what Strike assumed were elderly Welshmen, because he wasn’t sure who else would be singing a Max Boyce song, struggled for the next ten minutes to remember all the lyrics, breaking out intermittently into fragments of verses that petered out again, rendering Kevin and Farah’s conversation completely inaudible. At last, the Welshmen reverted to merely talking loudly, and Strike was able to pick up the faint thread of what Farah and Kevin were saying again.
Kevin:… vil people. Evil.
Farah: How were they ev…?
Kevin:… ean, cruel… hypocr… ’m writing a b…
Farah: Oh wow that’s gr…
One of the Welshmen broke into song again.
Cheers greeted these remembered lines and when the yelling had subsided, Strike heard Kevin again: ‘… orry, need a…’
From the lack of chat from Farah, Strike surmised that Kevin had gone to the bathroom.
The next fifty minutes of recording were worthless. Not only had the noise in the pub become ever louder, but Kevin’s voice grew progressively more indistinct. Strike could have told Farah that offering unlimited drink to a young man who’d grown up never touching alcohol was a mistake, and soon Kevin was slurring and rambling, Farah trying very hard to keep track of what he was saying.
Kevin:… ’n she drown… said sh’drowned…
Farah: (loudly)… talking about Dai…?
Kevin:… unny thing zappenin… ings I keep… emembrin… or of ’em…
Farah: (loudly) Four? Did you say f…?
Kevin:… more ’n jus’ Shree… nice to kids, an’ she… Bec made Em l… visible… ullshit…
Farah: (loudly)… ecca made Em lie, did you s…?
Kevin:… drugged… sh’wuz allowed out… sh’could get things… smuggle it’n… let her ’way with stu… didn’ care ’bout ’er real… sh’ad chocolate once n’I stole some… bully though…
Farah: (loudly)… oo wa… ully?
Kevin:… ake ’lowances… 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…
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.
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.
