Seeing them face to face, Robin spotted her partner’s resemblance to Jonny Rokeby for the first time. He and his half-sister shared the same defined jaw, the same spacing of the eyes. She wondered – she who had three brothers, all of the same parentage – what it felt like, to make a first acquaintance with a blood relative in your forties. But there was something more there than a faint physical resemblance between brother and sister: they appeared, already, to have established an unspoken understanding.
‘All right,’ said Prudence, under Strike’s semi-jocular questioning, ‘I do treat an ex-UHC member. As a matter of fact, when they first disclosed what had happened to them, I didn’t think I was the right person to help them. It’s specialised work, deprogramming people. Some over-indulge in things they were deprived of inside – food and alcohol, for instance. Some indulge in risky behaviours, as a reaction to being so controlled and monitored. Readjusting to a life of freedom isn’t easy, and being asked to disinter things they suffered, or were forced to do, can be immensely distressing.
‘Luckily, I knew of an American therapist who’s worked with a lot of cult survivors, so I got in touch with him. He did a few virtual sessions with the client, which helped hugely, and I’ve now taken over, with some continued assistance from the American. That’s how I know about the UHC.’
‘How did the client get out?’ asked Strike.
‘Why? Is that what you’ve been hired to do, get someone out?’
Strike nodded.
‘Then you need to be very careful,’ said Prudence seriously. ‘If they’re anything like my client, they’ll be exceptionally fragile and you’ll do more harm than good if you’re heavy-handed. You’ve got to understand: people in cults have been rewired. Expecting them to just snap back to normal isn’t realistic.’
‘How did your client manage it?’
‘They… didn’t leave by choice,’ said Prudence hesitantly.
‘You mean they were expelled?’
‘It wasn’t a question of… they had health issues,’ said Prudence, ‘but I can’t say more than that. Suffice to say, the UHC doesn’t let members leave through the front door unless they’ve stopped being of use. You’ll need to be very careful, Robin. Have you ever read Robert Jay Lifton? Thought Reform and the Psychology of Totalism? Or Combatting Cult Mind Control, by Steven Hassan?’
Robin shook her head.
‘I’ll lend you my copies. I’ll give them to you before you go. Being able to identify their techniques will help you resist them.’
‘Robin’s smart,’ said Strike. ‘She’s not going to buy whatever they’re selling.’
‘Being clever’s no protection, not on its own,’ said Prudence. ‘Restricted food, enforced chanting, rigid control over your physical environment, digging into your psyche for the places they can apply most pressure, love-bombing you one minute, tearing you down the next… nobody’s invulnerable to that, clever or not…
‘Anyway,’ said Prudence, standing up, ‘let’s try on some clothes.’
‘This is really kind of you, Prudence,’ Robin said, as the therapist led her upstairs.
‘It isn’t,’ said Prudence, now smiling again. ‘I’ve been dying to meet you, given that you’re clearly the most important person in Corm’s life.’
The words gave Robin a sensation like an electric shock in the pit of her stomach.
‘He’s – he’s really important to me, too.’
They passed the open door of a very messy bedroom, which Robin could tell belonged to a teenager even before a black-haired girl in a mini-skirt came bounding out of it, clutching a leather jacket in one hand, and a satchel in the other.
‘Ooh,’ she said, blinking at Robin. ‘Cool hair!’
Without waiting for a response she hurried past them, running downstairs. Prudence called after her,
‘Text me when you need picking up!’
‘I will,’ shouted the girl, and they heard her call, ‘Laters, new uncle,’ before the front door slammed.
‘That was Sylvie,’ said Prudence, leading Robin into a large bedroom of luxurious simplicity, and then into a mirrored dressing room lined with clothing racks. ‘Corm said you’d need two or three outfits?’
‘Ideally,’ said Robin. ‘I promise I’ll be very careful with them.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that, I’ve got far too many clothes… it’s my weakness,’ Prudence admitted, with a guilty smile. ‘Sylvie’s just got old enough to start borrowing stuff I can’t get away with any more, so I’m kind of hanging off giving it all to charity. What size shoes do you take?’
‘Six,’ said Robin, ‘but—’
‘Perfect. Same as me.’
‘—you really don’t have to—’
‘If you’re trying to look wealthy, accessories count,’ said Prudence. ‘Quite exciting really, helping someone go undercover. Corm’s very cagey about what you two get up to – professionally, I mean,’ she added.
She began pulling out day dresses and various tops and handing them to Robin, who saw labels she could never have afforded: Valentino, Chanel, Yves Saint Laurent.
‘… and that would really suit you,’ Prudence said five minutes later, adding a Chloé dress to the heavy load Robin was already holding. ‘Right, try it all on and see what works. You’ll be completely private in here, Declan’s not home for another hour.’
As the bedroom door closed behind Prudence, Robin put the pile of clothes down on the double bed, then took off her sweater and jeans, looking around at the room as she did so. From the oak floorboards and the wide mahogany sleigh bed to the sleek, modern chandelier, long gauze curtains and wall-mounted flat-screen television, everything spoke of good taste and plenty of money. Strike might be living like this, Robin thought, if he’d swallow his pride and rage, and accept his father’s largesse – though, of course, she couldn’t be sure it was Jonny Rokeby who’d bought this house.
Downstairs, Prudence had rejoined Strike in the sitting room, holding two books.
‘For Robin,’ she said, putting them on the coffee table between them.
‘Cheers,’ he said, as she refilled his wine glass. ‘Listen, can I ask you something?’
‘Go on,’ said Prudence, sitting down opposite him.
‘Did this client of yours ever witness supernatural events at Chapman Farm?’
‘Corm, I can’t talk about that.’
‘I’m not going to go looking for your client,’ he assured her. ‘I’m just interested.’
‘I’ve probably said too much already,’ said Prudence.
‘I get it,’ said Strike. ‘No more questions.’
Leaning forwards, he picked up Combatting Cult Mind Control, turned it over and read the blurb on the back.
‘You’ve got me more worried about Robin going in there now than I was half an hour ago,’ he admitted.
‘Good,’ said Prudence. ‘Sorry, I don’t mean “good, you’re worried”, I just think it’s best she understands what she’s getting into.’
‘Why the hell do people join cults?’ mused Strike. ‘Why would anyone give over that amount of control of their lives?’
‘Because they don’t realise total control is where it’s going to end,’ said Prudence. ‘It happens incrementally, step by step, after they’ve been offered approval and validation and a sense of purpose… surely you can see the allure of discovering a profound truth? The key to the universe?’
Strike half-shrugged.