Robin braced herself, trying not to look exasperated. Murphy had said ‘listen’ in exactly that tone on Friday night, five minutes after ejaculating, and immediately before embarking on his prepared speech about the risks of going under deep cover.
‘I wanted to tell you something, before you go in there.’
He looked serious, but hesitant, and Robin felt a tiny electric shock in the pit of her stomach, just as she had when Prudence said Robin was the most important person in Strike’s life.
‘There’s a slight chance –
Now Robin knew what was coming, but said nothing.
‘I was at the Aylmerton Community for six months, with my mum and Lucy, back in 1985. I’m not saying people will remember
For a few seconds, Robin debated what best to say, and decided on honesty.
‘Actually, Sheila Kennett remembered you and your mum. I didn’t want to say anything,’ she added, ‘unless you told me yourself.’
‘Ah,’ said Strike. ‘Right.’
They looked at each other.
‘Fucking terrible place,’ said Strike bluntly, ‘but nothing happened to me in there.’
He’d unintentionally placed a slight emphasis on the word ‘me’.
‘I’ve got another reason for telling you this,’ said Strike. ‘That Mazu woman. Don’t trust her.’
‘I won’t, she sounds really—’
‘No, I mean, don’t assume there’s any sense of – ’ he groped for the right word ‘– you know –
There came a knock on the door.
‘What?’ called Strike, with a trace of impatience.
Pat’s monkeyish face appeared, scowling. She said to Strike, in her deep, gravelly voice,
‘There’s a woman on the phone, wanting to talk to you. Name of Niamh Doherty.’
‘Put her through,’ said Strike at once.
He moved around to his side of the desk, and the phone began to ring within seconds.
‘Cormoran Strike.’
‘Hello,’ said a tentative woman’s voice. ‘Er – my name’s Niamh Doherty? You left a message with my husband, asking whether I’d answer some questions about the Universal Humanitarian Church?’
‘I did, yes,’ said Strike. ‘Thanks very much for getting back to me.’
‘That’s all right. Can I ask why you want to talk to me?’
‘Yes, of course,’ said Strike, eyes on Robin’s. ‘My agency’s been hired to investigate claims about the church made by an ex-member. We’re after corroboration, if we can get it.’
‘Oh,’ said Niamh. ‘Right.’
‘This would be an off-the-record chat,’ Strike assured her. ‘Just for background. I understand you were pretty young when you were there?’
‘Yes, I was there from ages eight to eleven.’
There was a pause.
‘Have you tried my father?’ Niamh asked.
‘Yes,’ said Strike, ‘but he declined to talk.’
‘He would… I understand if you can’t say, but why are you trying to corroborate these claims? Are you working for a newspaper, or—?’
‘No, not a newspaper. Our client’s got a relative inside the church.’
‘Oh,’ said Niamh, ‘I see.’
Strike waited.
‘All right,’ said Niamh at last, ‘I don’t mind talking to you. Actually, if you could manage tomorrow, or Friday—’
‘Tomorrow would be no problem,’ said Strike, who had his own reasons for favouring Thursday.
‘Thank you, that’d be great, because I’m off work – we’ve just moved house. And, it’s a bit cheeky to ask this, but would you mind coming to me? I’m not far from London. Chalfont St Giles.’
‘No problem whatsoever,’ said Strike, reaching for a pen to take down her address.
When he’d hung up, Strike turned to Robin.
‘Fancy a trip to Chalfont St Giles with me tomorrow?’
‘She’s agreed to talk?’
‘Yep. Be good if you heard what she’s got to say, before you go in.’
‘Definitely,’ said Robin, getting to her feet. ‘Would you mind if I go home now, then? I’ve got a few things to sort out before I leave for Chapman Farm.’
‘Yeah, no problem.’
Once Robin had left, Strike sat down at his computer, his spirits rather higher than they’d been on waking up. He’d just scuppered the possibility of Robin spending the whole of her last free day before going undercover with Ryan Murphy. If his actions recalled, however faintly, Charlotte Ross’s machinations with regard to himself, his conscience remained surprisingly untroubled as he Googled pleasant places to have lunch in Chalfont St Giles.
