‘Yeah, they do,’ said Strike. ‘And she did. Mostly to herself, in the end.’
‘I didn’t –
‘Jesus, Luce, I know you didn’t!’
‘I always thought one day I’d have it all out with her – and then it was too late, and she was g-gone… and you say she loved us, but—’
‘You
‘The Moonbeams,’ said Lucy, still sobbing.
‘The Moonbeam family,’ said Strike. ‘With Mummy Moonbeam and…’
‘… Bombo and Mungo…’
‘She didn’t show love like most mothers,’ said Strike, ‘but she didn’t do
For a couple of minutes there was silence again, but for Lucy’s steadily decreasing sniffs. At last, she wiped her face with both of hands and looked up, eyes red.
‘If you’re investigating that so-called church – what’s it called?’
‘The UHC.’
‘Just make sure you get that bitch Mazu,’ said Lucy in a low voice. ‘I don’t care if she was abused herself. I’m sorry, I don’t. She enabled them to do it to other girls. She was pimping for them.’
Strike considered telling her that getting Mazu wasn’t what he’d been hired to do, but instead said,
‘If I get the opportunity, I definitely will.’
‘Thank you,’ mumbled Lucy, still wiping her puffy eyes. ‘Then it’d be worth you taking the job.’
‘Listen, there was something else I wanted to tell you,’ he said, wondering, even as he heard himself say it, what the hell he was playing at. The impulse came, in a confused way, from a desire to be honest, as she’d been honest, to stop hiding from her. ‘I – er – I’ve made contact with Prudence. You know – Rokeby’s other illegitimate.’
‘Have you?’ said Lucy, and to his amazement – he’d hidden the burgeoning relationship from her out of fear that she’d feel jealous, or that she was being replaced – she was smiling through her tears. ‘Stick, that’s great!’
‘Is it?’ he said, thrown.
‘Well, of
‘Dunno. A few months. She visited me in hospital when I – you know—’
He gestured with his thumb towards the lung that had been punctured by a cornered killer.
‘What’s she like?’ said Lucy, who appeared curious and interested, but in no way resentful.
‘Nice,’ said Strike. ‘I mean, she’s not you—’
‘You don’t need to say that,’ said Lucy, with a shaky laugh. ‘I know what we went through together, I know nobody else will ever understand that. You know, Joan
‘Prudence isn’t Rokeby,’ said Strike.
‘I know,’ said Lucy, ‘but it’s still good you’re seeing her. Joan would be happy.’
‘I didn’t think you’d take it like this.’
‘Why not? I see
‘Do you?’
‘Of course I do! I didn’t want to go on about it, because—’
‘You thought I’d be hurt?’
‘Probably because I felt guilty that I’ve got a relationship with
After a short pause, she said,
‘I saw Charlotte in the paper, with her new boyfriend.’
‘Yeah,’ said Strike, ‘well, she likes a certain lifestyle. That was always a problem, me being broke.’
‘You don’t wish—?’
‘Christ, no,’ said Strike. ‘That’s dead and buried.’
‘I’m glad,’ said Lucy. ‘I’m really glad. You deserve so much better. You’ll stay for lunch, won’t you?’
Given the revelations of the morning, Strike felt he had no choice but to agree.
Strike made an uncharacteristic effort to appear cheerful while at lunch, tolerating his brother-in-law and eldest nephew with a grace he’d rarely shown before. He didn’t rush away afterwards, but stayed until the rain had passed off, when the whole family went into the back garden and watched Luke, Jack and Adam play with their Firetek Bows, even feigning good humour when Luke, in what Strike refused to believe was an accident, discharged his dart into the side of his uncle’s face, eliciting roars of laughter from Greg.
Only once he’d left the house did Strike allow his face to slacken, losing the determined grin he’d worn for much of the last couple of hours. Having firmly resisted Lucy’s offers of a lift, he walked back to the station under a grey sky, brooding on everything he’d just heard.
