‘“I thenk she’s drowned”,’ said Shelley.
‘We thowt she meant a dog. Who goes swimming, five a.m. in the North Sea? She wus in her undies. Soaking wet,’ said Leonard with a smirk and a waggle of his eyebrows. Shelley cuffed her husband with the back of her ringed hand.
‘Behave yoursalf,’ said Shelley, smirking at Strike, while the sofa-sitters snorted with renewed laughter.
‘She wasn’t in a swimsuit?’
‘Undies,’ repeated Leonard, smirking. ‘Freezing cold.’
Shelley cuffed him again while the sofa-sitters laughed.
‘I thowt at fust she’d stripped off to go in ahter the dog,’ said Shelley. ‘Navver dreamed she’d been swimming.’
‘And she said, “Help me, she’s gone under”?’ asked Strike.
‘Ah, something like that,’ said Leonard. ‘Than she says, “We wus over hare” and goes running off to—’
‘No, she navver,’ said Shelley. ‘She asked us to git the coastguard fust.’
‘No, she navver,’ said Leonard. ‘She showed us the stuff fust.’
‘No, she navver,’ said Shelley, ‘she said, “Git the coastguard, git the coastguard.”’
‘’Ow come I seen the stuff, then?’
‘You seen the stuff ahter you come back, you dozy foal,’ said Shelley, to further chuckles from the sofa.
‘What stuff was this?’ Strike asked.
‘Towels and clothes – the little gal’s driss and shoes,’ said Shelley. ‘She took me over to tham, and whan I seen the shoes, I realised it was a kid. Orful,’ she said, but her tone was matter-of-fact. Strike could tell that the drowning had receded into the distant past for the Heatons. Such shock as it might have caused them two decades ago had long since subsided.
‘I come along with yarsalves,’ said Leonard stubbornly. ‘I warn’t gonna call up the coastguard fur a dog. I wus there, I seen the shoes—’
‘All right, Leonard, you wus with us, ha’it your own way,’ said Shelley, rolling her eyes.
‘So then I go to phone the coastguard,’ said Leonard, satisfied.
‘And you stayed with Cherie, Mrs Heaton?’
‘Ah, and I said to har, “The hell was you doing in the water, this hour of the morning?”’
‘And what did she say?’ asked Strike.
‘Said the little gal wanted a paddle.’
‘I said to Shelley ahter,’ interjected Leonard, ‘“thass what the word “no”’s for. We see kids like that hare avery summer, spoiled as hell. We navver had any ourselves—’
‘How’m I supposed to manage kids? I’ve got my hands full with you, breaking your bloody legs playing minigolf,’ said Shelley, drawing more giggles from the sofa. ‘I should tell you no more often.’
‘You tell me no plenny, thass why we ha’n’t got kids,’ said Leonard, which provoked shrieks of laughter from George, Gillian and Suzy and another cuff from his smirking wife.
‘Did Cherie tell you what had happened in the sea?’ Strike asked Shelley patiently.
‘Ah, she said the little gal went too deep and went under, said she tried to reach har and couldn’t, so she swum back to shore. Than she seen us and come a-running.’
‘And how did Cherie seem to you? Upset?’
‘More scared’n upset, I thowt,’ said Shelley.
‘Shell din’t like har,’ said Leonard.
‘He liked har, ’cause he was gitting an arly morning eyeful,’ said Shelley, while the chorus on the sofa chuckled. ‘She said to me, “I nearly drowned mysalf, the current’s right strong.” Looking fur sympathy for harsalf, and thar’s a kid dead.’
‘You’ve olluz been hard on—’
‘I weren’t the one with the hard on, Len,’ said Shelley.
The trio on the sofa shrieked with scandalised laughter, and both Heatons threw a triumphant glance at Strike, as if to say they doubted he’d ever been entertained like this during an investigation. The detective’s jaw was starting to ache with all the fake smiling he was having to do.
‘An’ she giggled and all,’ Shelley told Strike, over the others’ laughter. ‘I said to har, put your clothes back on, no point standing there like that. “Oh yeah,” she said, an’ she giggled.’
‘Narves,’ said Leonard. ‘Shock.’
‘You warn’t there whan that happened,’ said Shelley. ‘You wus phoning.’
‘You didn’t think she was genuinely upset Daiyu had drowned, Mrs Heaton?’ Strike asked.
‘Well, she wus crying a bit, but if it’d been me—’
‘You took agin har,’ Leonard told Shelley.
‘She bent down to Betty and fussed har,’ said Shelley. ‘Whass she doing playing with a dog whan there’s a little gal drowning?’
‘Shock,’ said Leonard staunchly.
‘How long were you away, Mr Heaton?’ asked Strike.
‘Twenny minutes? Haaf hour?’
‘And how quickly did the coastguard get out?’
‘They wus out there not long ahter I got back to the beach,’ said Leonard. ‘We seen the boat going out, seen the lights, and the police wus on the beach not long ahter that.’
‘She was bloody scared whan the police got there,’ said Shelley.
‘Natural,’ said Leonard.
‘She run awff,’ said Shelley.
‘She navver,’ scoffed Leonard.
‘She did,’ said Shelley. ‘“Whass that over there?” She went tanking off to see something along the beach. Pebbles or weed or something. Sun wus just coming up by then. It wus an excuse,’ said Shelley. ‘She wanted to look busy whan they arrived, poking around in the weed.’
‘Thass not running awff,’ said Leonard.
‘Lump of seaweed, a seven-year-old gal? She wus playing up fur the police. “Look at me trying averything t’find har.” No, I din’t like har,’ Shelley told Strike unnecessarily. ‘Irresponsible, warn’t she? It wus har fault.’
‘What happened when the police arrived, can you remember?’ asked Strike.
‘They asked how she and the little gal got there, ’cause she warn’t local,’ said Shelley.
‘She took us up to the scrappy owd truck with dirt and straw all over it, in the car park,’ said Leonard. ‘Said they wus from that farm, that church place full of weirdos, up Aylmerton way.’
‘You already knew about the Universal Humanitarian Church, did you?’ asked Strike.
‘Friends of aars in Felbrigg, they’d towd us about the place,’ said Shelley.
‘Weirdos,’ repeated Leonard. ‘So we’re standing in the car park and the police wants us all to go t’station, to make statements. I says, “We’ve got a funeral to git to.” The gal was crying. Then owd Muriel come out the café, to see whass going on.’
‘This is Muriel Carter, who saw Cherie take Daiyu down to the beach?’
‘Know your stuff, don’tchew?’ said Shelley, as impressed by Strike’s thoroughness as Jordan Reaney had been disconcerted. ‘Ah, thass her. Used to own a café down by that bit of beach.’
‘Did you know her?’
‘We’d navver spoken to har before all this happened,’ said Shelley, ‘but we knew her ahter that. She told the police she’d seen Cherie carrying the little gal out the truck and off down the beach. She thowt it was stupid, that time in the morning, seeing Cherie with towels and that.’
‘Muriel was in her café very early,’ commented Strike. ‘This must have all been – what, five in the morning?’
‘Coffee machine wus on the blink,’ said Leonard. ‘She’n har husband wus in there tryina fix it before opening time.’
‘Ah, right,’ said Strike, making a note.
‘Muriel said the kid wus sleepy,’ said Shelley. ‘I said to Leonard ahter, “So she warn’t pestering har for a paddle, then, thass just an excuse.” I thenk it wus Cherie who wanted to go swimming, not the little gal.’