Sheila shook her head and relaxed back into her chair. When Robin sat down on the sofa, the cat leapt up beside her and rubbed itself against her, purring.
‘He’s not mine,’ said Sheila, watching the cat’s antics. ‘He’s next door’s, but he likes it here.’
‘Clearly,’ said Robin, smiling, as she ran her hand over the cat’s arched back. ‘What’s his name?’
‘Smoky,’ said Sheila, raising her mug to her mouth. ‘He likes it here,’ she repeated.
‘Would you mind if I take notes?’ asked Robin.
‘Write things down? That’s all right,’ said Sheila Kennett. While Robin took out her pen, Sheila made a kissing sound in the direction of Smoky the cat, but he ignored her, and continued to rub his head against Robin. ‘Ungrateful,’ said Sheila. ‘I gave him tinned salmon last night.’
Robin smiled again before opening her notebook.
‘So, Mrs Kennett—’
‘You can call me Sheila. Why’ve you done that to your hair?’
‘Oh – this?’ said Robin self-consciously, raising a hand to the blue edges of her bob. ‘I’m just trying it out.’
‘Punk rock, is it?’ said Sheila.
Deciding against telling Sheila she was approximately forty years out of date, Robin said,
‘A bit.’
‘You’re a pretty girl. You don’t want blue hair.’
‘I’m thinking of changing it back,’ said Robin. ‘So… could I ask when did you and your husband go to live at Chapman Farm?’
‘Wasn’t called Chapman Farm then,’ said the old lady. ‘It was Forgeman Farm. Brian and me were hippies,’ said Sheila, blinking at Robin through the thick lenses of her glasses. ‘You know what hippies are?’
‘Yes,’ said Robin.
‘Well, that’s what me and Brian was. Hippies,’ said Sheila. ‘Living on a commune. Hippies,’ she said yet again, as though she liked the sound of the word.
‘Can you remember when—?’
‘Sixty-nine we went there,’ said Sheila. ‘When it was all starting. We grew pot. Know what pot is?’
‘I do, yes,’ said Robin.
‘We used to smoke a lot of that,’ said Sheila, with another little cackle.
‘Who else was there at the beginning, can you remember?’
‘Yes, I can remember all that,’ said Sheila proudly. ‘Rust Andersen. American, he was. Living in a tent up the fields. Harold Coates. I remember all that. Can’t remember yesterday sometimes, but I remember all that. Coates was a nasty man. Very nasty man.’
‘Why d’you say that?’
‘Kids,’ said Sheila. ‘Don’t you know about all that?’
‘Are you talking about when the Crowther brothers were arrested?’
‘That’s them. Nasty people. Horrible people. Them and their friends.’
The cat’s purrs filled the room as it lolled on its back, Robin stroking it with her left hand.
‘Brian and me never knew what they were up to,’ said Sheila. ‘We never knew what was going on. We were busy growing and selling veg. Brian had pigs.’
‘Did he?’
‘He loved his pigs, and his chickens. Kids running around everywhere… I couldn’t have none of my own. Miscarriages. I had nine, all told.’
‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ said Robin.
‘Never had none of our own,’ repeated Sheila. ‘We wanted kids, but we couldn’t. There was loads of kids running around at the farm, and I remember your friend. Big lad. Bigger than some of the older boys.’
‘Sorry?’ said Robin, flummoxed.
‘Your partner. Condoman Strike or something, isn’t it?’
‘That’s right,’ said Robin, looking at her curiously, and wondering whether the old lady, who might repeat herself a lot, but had seemed basically alert, was in fact senile.
‘When I told Next Door you was coming to see me, she read me out an article about you and him. He was there, with his sister and his mum. I remember, because my Brian fancied Leda Strike and I could tell, and we had rows about it. Jealous. I’d see him watching her all the time. Jealous,’ Sheila repeated. ‘I don’t think Leda would’ve looked at my Brian, though. He was no rock star, Brian.’
Sheila gave another cracked laugh. Doing her best to dissemble her shock, Robin said,
‘Your memory’s very good, Sheila.’
‘Oh, I remember all what happened on the farm. Don’t remember yesterday sometimes, but I remember all that. I helped little Ann give birth. Harold Coates was there. He was a doctor. I helped. She had a rough old time. Well… she was only fourteen.’
‘Really?’
‘Yeah… free love, see. It wasn’t like it is now. It was different.’
‘Was the baby—?’
‘It was all right. Mazu, Ann called her, but Ann took off, not long after. Left her at the commune. Didn’t like being a mother. Too young.’
‘So who looked after Mazu?’ asked Robin, ‘Her father?’
‘Don’t know who her father was. I never knew who Ann was going with. People were sleeping with whoever. Not me and Brian, though. We were trying to have our own kids. Busy on the farm. We didn’t know everything that was going on,’ said Sheila, yet again. ‘Police come into the farm, no warning. Somebody tipped them off. We was all questioned. My Brian was at the station for hours. They searched all the rooms. Went through all our personal things. Me and Brian left after that.’
‘Did you?’
