Becca shook her head and closed her dark eyes: a woman shocked and scandalised.
‘I didn’t understand what I was seeing,’ she said quietly, opening her eyes again. ‘Rowena and Jacob were there, he had his pants and trousers down, crying – they weren’t in a cubicle, they were in the sink area. When he saw me, he ran to me and said, “Becca, Becca, she hurt me!”’
‘And what did Rowena do?’
‘Well, she just pushed past me without saying anything. I was obviously much more concerned about Jacob, at the time. I said I was sure Rowena hadn’t hurt him on purpose, but then he told me about how she’d pulled his trousers and pants down and exposed his genitalia, and then she was trying to take a picture—’
‘How?’ exploded Robin. ‘What was I taking a picture with? I wasn’t allowed a bloody phone or a – sorry, don’t pause, don’t pause,’ she added hastily to Murphy.
‘—and hit him round the head, when he wouldn’t stand still,’ Becca said. ‘And, I mean, we take child safeguarding incredibly seriously within the church—’
‘Sure you do,’ said Robin furiously, unable to control herself, ‘toddlers wandering around in nappies at night—’
‘—never had any instances of sexual abuse at Chapman Farm—’
‘Strange words,’ shouted Robin, to the onscreen Becca, ‘from a woman who said her brother sexually abused her there!’
Murphy paused the video again.
‘You all right?’ he said gently, putting a hand on Robin’s shoulder.
‘Yes – no – well, obviously, I’m not,’ said Robin, standing up and running her hands through her hair. ‘It’s bullshit, it’s all bullshit, and she—’
She pointed at the onscreen Becca, who was frozen with her mouth open, but Robin couldn’t find words to adequately express her contempt.
‘Shall we watch the rest after—?’ Murphy began.
‘No,’ said Robin, dropping back down into her seat, ‘sorry, I’m just so bloody angry. The boy she’s talking about isn’t Jacob! Where’s the real one? Is he dead? Is he starving away in the b-base—?’
Robin began to cry.
‘Shit,’ said Murphy, moving his chair so he could put his arms around her. ‘Robin, I shouldn’t’ve shown you this crap, I should’ve just told you they’re speaking a load of bollocks and you’ve got nothing to worry about.’
‘It’s fine, it’s fine,’ Robin said, pulling herself together. ‘I want to watch it… she might say something useful… the woman with the fake name…’
‘Cherie?’ said Murphy.
Robin pulled free of his hug.
‘She names her?’
‘Yeah, towards the end. That’s where it all goes a bit…’
Robin got up and strode to her bag to fetch her notebook and pen.
‘Cherie’s the woman Strike and I interviewed today.’
‘OK,’ said Murphy uncertainly. ‘Let’s fast-forward, watch the Cherie bit and forget the rest of it.’
‘Fine,’ said Robin, sitting back down with her notebook. ‘Sorry,’ she added, wiping her eyes again, ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me.’
‘Yeah, it’s like you’ve just escaped from a cult or something.’
But Robin couldn’t adequately explain to Murphy how it felt to listen to these naked lies covering up terrible neglect, or the fabricated story of sexual abuse, when all she’d done was to care for and try to save a dying child; the gulf between what the UHC pretended to be, and what it really was, had never been more starkly apparent to her, and a small part of her would have liked to scream and throw Murphy’s laptop across the room, but instead she pressed out the nib of her pen, and waited.
Murphy fast-forwarded, and together they watched Becca gesticulating, shaking her head and nodding at double time.
‘Too far,’ muttered Murphy, ‘she brushed her hair off her face before…’
He rewound and finally pressed play.
‘… other woman with a false name?’ said the female police officer.
‘Oh,’ said Becca, sweeping her shining hair off her face, ‘yes. I mention her because she was an actual instrument of the divine.’
Robin could almost feel the two police officers resisting the urge to look at each other. The male policeman cleared his throat.
‘What d’you mean by that?’
‘Cherie was a messenger of the Blessed Divinity, sent to take Daiyu, our prophet, to the sea. Cherie confided her purpose to me—’
Robin began scribbling in her notebook.
‘—and I trusted her, and I was right to. What seemed wrong was right, you see? Papa J will confirm everything I’m saying,’ Becca continued, in exactly the same earnest and reasonable a tone as she’d used throughout the interview. ‘I’m pure spirit, which means I understand that what might seem devilish may be divine, and vice—’
‘See what I m—?’ began Murphy.
‘Shh,’ said Robin urgently, listening.
‘Cherie came, attained her purpose, and then she left us.’
‘Died, you mean?’ said the male officer.
‘There is no death, in the sense the material world means when it uses the word,’ said Becca, smiling. ‘No, she left the farm. I believe she’ll come back to us one day, and bring her little girls, too.’ Becca gave a small laugh. ‘I can tell this sounds strange to you, but that’s all right. Papa J always says—’
‘“I’d rather face an honest sceptic than a hundred who believe they know God, but are really in thrall to their own piety,”’ said Robin, repeating the words along with Becca.
‘I’m trying to explain,’ continued Becca, onscreen, ‘that my personal connection to the Drowned Prophet, and my relationship with the divine vessel, who suffered and was blameless, means I was very ready to hear Rowena’s explanation of what had happened. I would have extended understanding and compassion… but she didn’t stay to explain,’ said Becca, her smile fading. ‘She ran, and a man was waiting for her on the outskirts of the farm, in a car. He picked her up, and they drove away. So it’s hard not to think that she and this man were plotting something together, isn’t it? Were they hoping to abduct a child? Has she been trying to get pictures of naked children, to send to this man?’
‘The rest is just her crapping on about how fishy it was you ran for it,’ said Murphy, shutting down the video. ‘You all right?’
‘Yes,’ said Robin quietly, reaching for her wine. She drank half the glass before saying. ‘I suppose it’s just a shock.’
‘Of course it is, being accused—’
‘No, not that… I suppose I’ve just realised… she believes. She believes in the whole thing and – she genuinely she thinks she’s a good person.’
‘Well,’ said Murphy, ‘I s’pose that’s a cult for you.’
He closed the laptop.
‘Eat your curry.’
But Robin looked down at her notes.
‘I will. I just need to call Strike.’
100
Nine in the second place means:
Dragon appearing in the field.
The I Ching or Book of Changes
Strike was walking slowly back up Charing Cross Road from Chinatown, where he’d eaten a solitary evening meal in a restaurant on Wardour Street. Looking down into the darkening street while eating his Singapore noodles, he’d watched a couple of people in blue tracksuits passing at a slow walk, deep in conversation, before turning into Rupert Court. He couldn’t make out their faces, but was ill-natured enough to hope they were fretting about the private detective who’d been undercover at their precious farm for four months.