‘No, it weren’t allowed. No phones or cameras, nuffin’ like that.’
‘The original Polaroids were found hidden in an old biscuit tin. Long shot, I know, but can you remember anybody at the farm having chocolate biscuits?’
‘’Ow d’you expec’ me to remember chocolate biscuits, all this time after?’
‘It’d be quite unusual to see biscuits at the farm, wouldn’t it? With sugar being banned?’
‘Yeah, but… well, I s’pose someone in the farm’ouse could’ve ’ad ’em, ’idden…’
‘Going back to where your father was, when Daiyu disappeared: there was a man seen on the beach by witnesses, shortly before Cherie emerged from the sea: a jogger. He never came forward when the story of the drowning hit the press. It was dark, so the only description I’ve managed to get is that he was large. Did your father like jogging?’
‘Wha’?’ said Abigail, frowning again. ‘You fink ’e pretended ’e was going to Birmingham, ordered Cherie to drown Daiyu, then gone jogging on the beach to check wevver she was doin’ it?’
‘No,’ said Strike, smiling, ‘but I wondered whether Cherie or anyone else at the farm ever mentioned the presence of the jogger on the beach when Daiyu disappeared.’
Abigail frowned at him for a moment, chewing her gum, then said,
‘Why d’you keep doin’ that?’
‘Doing what?’
‘Sayin’ Daiyu “disappeared”, not “drowned”.’
‘Well, her body was never found, was it?’ said Strike.
She looked at him, her jaws still working on her gum. Then, unexpectedly, she slipped her hand into the pocket of her work trousers and pulled out her mobile.
‘Not ordering a cab, are you?’ said Strike, watching her type.
‘No,’ said Abigail, ‘I’m tellin’ Darryl I might be a bit late.’
Robin was standing very still in the dimly lit upper floor of the temple. She’d been there for nearly five minutes. As far as she could tell, the baby, which was now silent, had been crying in a room at the very end of the corridor, which would look onto Rupert Court. Shortly after the baby’s wails had ceased, she’d heard what she thought was a television being turned on. Somebody was listening to a news report about the goings on at Chapman Farm.
‘… can see from the aerial picture, John, a forensic team is at work inside a tent in the field behind the temple and other buildings. As we reported earlier—’
‘Sorry to interrupt you, Angela, but this just in: a statement has been issued to the press on behalf of the head of the UHC, Jonathan Wace, who’s currently in Los Angeles.
‘“Today, the Universal Humanitarian Church has been subject to an unprecedented and unprovoked police action which has caused alarm and distress to church members living peacefully in our communities in the UK. The church denies any and all criminal wrongdoing and strongly deplores the tactics used by the police against unarmed, innocent people of faith. The UHC is currently taking legal advice to protect itself and its members from further violations of their right to religious freedom, as guaranteed by Article 18 of the UN Universal Declaration of Human Rights. There will be no further statement at this time.”’
As far as Robin could tell, the room with the television was the only one that was occupied. Its door stood ajar, and the light from the screen spilled out into the corridor. She began to move carefully towards it, the sound of her footsteps masked by the voice of the journalists.
‘… started here in the UK, didn’t it?’
‘That’s right, John, in the late eighties. Now, of course, it’s spread to the Continent and North America…’
Robin had crept to the door of the inhabited room. Hidden in shadow, she peered through the gap.
The room would have been entirely dark but for the television and the moon-like lamp outside the window, which hung from the ceiling of Rupert Court. Robin could see the corner of what looked like a carry cot, in which the baby was presumably now lying, the end of a bed with a blue counterpane, a baby’s bottle on the floor and the edge of what looked like a hastily packed holdall, from which some white fabric protruded. However, her attention was fixed upon a woman who was kneeling on the floor with her back to the door.
