Frozen Charlotte

TWO

The hospital slipped straight into Correct Protocol, there being one for every single situation. Almost.

The priority is to isolate, to keep dramas away from the public gaze and minimize disruption and upset. Dr Jane Miles and a couple of porters ushered Alice Sedgewick into the nearest available private area, Sister’s Office. Lucy Ramshaw took the bundle and placed it in an empty cubicle with hospital security keeping guard. They had expected Alice to make a fuss when she was separated from the baby but she was surprisingly quiet.

Sarinda rang the police.

A squad car was usually marauding somewhere in the vicinity of the hospital A &E department. If it was a quiet night outside the police could, if they wished, find customers in here. Drunks, druggies, people who’d been in fights. Then there was the other side of the coin, the victims, the rape-or-not cases, the prey of minor thieves who’d got a black eye for trying to defend their possessions and tonight there were plenty of people who’d been in slips and slides or prangs and bangs in their cars, slithering around on the icy roads. All in a night’s work on a Saturday evening for an average Shropshire copper like Police Constable Gethin Roberts. So after cruising round the town, picking up waifs and strays, he’d stuck round the hospital casualty department and was waiting for customers to roll in. If they didn’t, there were consolations; the nurses were generally friendly and generous with cups of coffee and chit-chat. A &E departments had been the birthplace of many a romance between copper and nurse or copper and doctor. Police Constable Gethin Roberts had been sitting outside, watching the sliding doors open and close and wondered which nurses were on duty tonight. So within minutes of Lucy Ramshaw uncovering the child’s face and Sarinda’s desperate call, his size elevens were striding towards Sister’s Office. Tall and thin with a large Adam’s apple that was bobbing up and down his nervous neck, he hardly knew what to do. This was not in the police manual. He had a quick word with Dr Miles who filled him in with the bare details. He followed her into the cubicle, peeked at the contents, wished he hadn’t and spoke quickly and nervously into his phone.

‘Roberts here. Yes. I’m at the A &E now. I’ve got a woman here who…’ He ran out of words. ‘She turned up with a bundle wrapped up in a blanket. She’d been here a while, I think.’

He paused, listening.

‘Staff don’t know how long exactly…’

There was more talk on the other end.

‘It’s a baby – or it was a baby.’

Dr Jane Miles could well imagine the next question.

What do you mean it was a baby?

‘It’s in a state of decay.’

How long’s it been dead for?

‘I don’t know.’ Roberts’s response this time was truculent. ‘I’m not a pathologist, am I?’

Have a guess when it died .

‘A long time ago, I think. Anyway. It’s definitely dead now and I could do with some backup.’

He listened for a while to the invisible voice before adding, ‘Well – I’m going to need a police surgeon because I’m going to have to bring her into custody.’

He folded his phone back into his pocket and spoke to Dr Miles. ‘OK then,’ he said, with a cheerfulness and confidence he definitely did not feel. ‘Let’s take a look at her.’

As he approached the door he glanced through the glass at the woman who was sitting bolt upright, staring into space in front of her. ‘A psychiatrist wouldn’t be a bad idea, surely, doctor?’ he commented.

‘Possibly,’ Jane Miles said briskly. ‘It’s hard to say how disturbed or psychotic she is. And until you or we do a bit of delving we won’t know her psychiatric history. At times she appears composed and lucid and at others…’ She gave the bony police constable a friendly grin, ‘Well, to use a well known medical phrase, “barking”.’

PC Roberts pushed the door open. His instinct had been to interview the woman somewhere that seemed less like a fishbowl. Sister’s Office was a little too public with a glass window which overlooked the entire cubicled area. He’d thought there were rooms set aside for grieving relatives but Jane Miles explained that it was already taken by the girlfriend and parents of the road traffic victim who were trying to come to terms with the idea that their loved one wasn’t coming home tonight. Not only that but he had suddenly become a valuable collection of spare parts. So PC Roberts had to make do with the distraction of a ringside seat which overlooked all the dramas being enacted in the department. It was hardly private. Not only could he look out but others could look in. And they did. Peering in like the people who suddenly find themselves on the television when an interviewer walks the streets. He would have had curtains drawn or screens put around, but curtains and screens had been banned from the hospital a few years ago by the Infection Control Team. As he entered the room the first person he noticed was Lucy Ramshaw who was sitting, white-faced, her chin in her hands, staring ahead of her with a shocked expression on an already tired and pale face. Perhaps they both needed a psychiatrist, was Roberts’s next thought. A doctor too. And a nurse. Staff Nurse Lucy Ramshaw looked as though she was about to be sick.

He was glad when one of the night nurses came to sit with her, filching a cardboard vomit bowl underneath her chair. He had sympathy with Staff Nurse Ramshaw. He knew exactly how she felt. He too had been horrified at the sight of that tiny, wizened face with its parchment, blackened skin and hollowed eyes.

Alice Sedgewick was sitting in the corner, looking at the floor. Gethin Roberts sat down next to her and introduced himself, flicking his ID card in front of eyes that were completely uninterested in her surroundings. He drew out his notebook

‘What’s your name, love?’

The woman stopped staring at the floor and looked him straight in the eye. ‘Alice Sedgewick,’ she said. ‘My name is Alice Sedgewick. Mrs.’ Her accent was not what he had been expecting. It was middle class. Almost posh. And her voice was soft and polite. So how come she had wandered into the A &E department of the local hospital, carrying a long-dead child, Roberts thought? What was going on?

He wrote the name down, trying to make sense of the situation and failing completely.

‘Where do you live, Mrs Sedgewick?’

‘The Mount. Number 41.’

No sign of her being ‘barking’ so far.

Roberts looked up, his pen lifted off his pad. The Mount was a smart road, one of the nicest in a very smart town, a row of large Victorian detached and semi-detached houses. He looked again at the woman and noticed for the first time that although her trousers were paint-spattered and she was wearing a dark fleece, she was also wearing expensive-looking black patent leather shoes with a small, neat heel. And when she moved her arm he also noticed a gold watch that looked understated rather than flashy and whispered ‘money’ to him. It matched her voice, which was low and controlled. Not hysterical. She seemed detached. A bit unreal but not barking. All the time he talked he would be revising his judgement of her, moving up and down stops, changing as many times as the picture when you look through the end of a revolving kaleidoscope.

Roberts frowned. So she was not an escapee from the local psychiatric unit then. Or an ex-con from the prison but a local from a smart area in town. And yet somehow a long dead baby had come into her possession and instead of ringing the police, which would have been the normal thing to do, she had come here – to a hospital. What on earth could have been her motive in bringing the child here, nursing it for what could have been hours instead of handing him or her over to the nursing staff?

‘Can you tell me anything about…’ He let his gaze drift out of the window, towards the space where the curtains were tightly drawn round the cubicle, the security officer standing guard, arms akimbo, legs apart, like the coppers who stand outside 10 Downing Street. Alice Sedgewick followed his gaze and momentarily lost the blanked-out expression. Now she frowned and looked confused. Then she turned her gaze back at the gawky policeman and looked at him as though she had only now seen him properly. Her eyes drifted around the room, passed straight over Lucy Ramshaw and then her body gave a great shudder and appeared to actually recoil as though she had suddenly realized what it was she had been holding. She gave a little shriek of revulsion, as if she had woken up from a nightmare. PC Roberts witnessed the change open-mouthed; luckily for him that was the very moment when Sergeant Paul Talith arrived and took over.

To them all Talith’s bulky presence was reassuring. He had a quick word with Roberts who led him outside into the cubicle. With a gloved hand Talith twitched back the blanket and peered down. ‘Bloody hell,’ he said, his face contorted. ‘What the heck is that?’

Roberts shrugged and tried not to think too much about it. He certainly did not even attempt to answer the question.

Talith recovered himself. ‘Right. We can arrange for this -’ he couldn’t quite keep the loathing from his voice or face – ‘to be removed to the hospital mortuary and take it from there. We’ll inform the Coroner’s Officer first thing Monday morning. She’ll instruct us further. There’ll have to be a post-mortem, though God knows how long it’s been dead for. Looks to me like one of those Egyptian mummies. All shrivelled up and black.’

They left the cubicle. Talith glanced through the window at the woman who looked so very ordinary, sitting quietly, her hands folded on her lap. ‘Whatever she’s got to do with it I don’t know,’ he muttered, ‘but we’re going to have to question her down at the station, preferably with a solicitor present.’ He looked across at Gethin Roberts. ‘She’s married?’

‘I think so. She’s wearing a wedding band.’

‘Better wake her husband up and tell him then.’ Talith grinned. ‘He’s in for a shock.’

They were both wondering the same thing. Was it her child? His child? What was the story?

‘Perhaps she had it years ago,’ Roberts mused, ‘and because she didn’t want her family to find out she buried it.’

‘Then dug it up, Roberts?’ Talith’s voice was mocking. ‘Why? Why now?’

‘I don’t know.’

They still didn’t enter Sister’s Office but stood outside, talking quietly. ‘It’s just a baby,’ Talith said. ‘Probably a newborn. Why bring it here?’ he mused. ‘Tonight? Look at the state of that thing. It’s been dead for years. Kept somewhere. Not buried, I don’t think. More like kept somewhere. What was the point of bringing it to a hospital? What did she think they were going to do?’

Gethin Roberts shrugged. ‘It’s where you would naturally go. Or perhaps…’ he ventured, then found inspiration from somewhere. ‘Sanctuary?’

Talith sighed. ‘Well, whatever, it’s going to be a long night. I’d better go in and talk to her.’

He went into the room. Lucy Ramshaw was sitting still, her face as white as chalk. Talith touched her shoulder. ‘You’d best go home, love,’ he said kindly. ‘You look knackered. We’ll take a statement from you some other time. All right?’

She looked up and nodded.

‘Do you want someone to drive you or shall we get your bloke to come and pick you up?’

She gave a weak smile. ‘No. It’s OK. Really. I’ll be all right. Better in the fresh air. Rob’s probably had a drink or two. I don’t want to drag him out at this time of night. I’ll drive myself.’

‘All right, love. We’ll be in touch.’

Paul Talith sat himself down opposite Alice Sedgewick and introduced himself. ‘Mrs Sedgewick,’ he said, ‘we’re going to have to question you down at the station about this baby you brought in, I’m afraid.’

She nodded, even gave him a faint smile, subtly condescending. ‘That’s all right,’ she said.

The words ‘gracious’ and ‘a lady’ came into Paul Talith’s mind. He studied her carefully. Mrs Sedgewick seemed well mannered, contained and old-fashioned. It seemed appropriate to use these conservative words about her.

‘We’ll just wait for the police surgeon to make sure you’re in a fit state to take in, Mrs Sedgewick.’ Talith deliberately avoided the use of the terrible word ‘detain’. It might send her back over the edge. ‘Is there anyone else – family – you’d like us to contact? They might be worried about you. It’s late and it’s a nasty night.’

Alice simply shook her head.

They waited in awkward silence until Dr Delyth Fontaine appeared. A large, untidy woman with straggly, greying hair, she cared little for her appearance. All her energy was focussed on her career as a police surgeon (or Forensic Medical Examiner, as they were now called), and the smallholding she had to the south of the town where she bred Torddu sheep, a rare Welsh mountain breed. Both Gethin Roberts and Sergeant Talith were relieved that it was she who was on duty tonight. Her no-nonsense approach to her work was exactly what they needed in this situation. She gave them each a broad smile. ‘Nice of you to drag me out on such a snowy night.’

They didn’t respond. They knew she didn’t mind really. ‘I suppose,’ she said, ‘I’d better take a peek at the infant first?’

They led her into the cubicle. Slipping on a glove she took a swift glance. ‘OK,’ she said. ‘Looks like a neonate. A newborn,’ she explained to the two police officers. ‘It’s been dead for a number of years. I can’t say how many but at a guess more than five. I won’t undress it,’ she said. ‘There’s no point. It’ll be better if the clothing is removed at the post-mortem.’

‘Natural causes or…?’

She looked at the pair of them with amusement. ‘You really expect me to hazard a guess?’

Talith waited.

‘Not a clue,’ she said. ‘Now. Lead me to Lady Macbeth.’

She regarded Alice Sedgewick with interest before sitting down opposite her.

‘Mrs Sedgewick,’ she said, ‘I’m Dr Fontaine. I’m a police surgeon. I’ve been asked to come and see you because the police want to question you, preferably down at Monkmoor Police Station, about how you came to find yourself here, tonight, with the body of a child who is long-since dead. Can you tell me anything about it?’

Alice looked at her. ‘No,’ she said politely. ‘I’m afraid I can’t.’ she said. ‘I can’t tell you anything.’

‘Is this because you don’t want to or because you can’t remember?’

‘I can’t remember.’ A pause. ‘It’s possible that I don’t know.’

Interesting, Delyth Fontaine thought.

‘What do you remember?’

Alice turned puzzled eyes on her. ‘Sorry?’ she said, still in the same flat but polite, social voice.

‘Well – you know your name and you know your address.’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you remember how you got here tonight?’

‘I think – I don’t know. I’m not sure.’ She frowned. ‘I don’t know. I really don’t know.’

Jane Miles was standing behind her looking sceptical. Like most doctors she thought that amnesia could be just a little too convenient for people who had not quite worked out what to say.

Delyth Fontaine met her eyes, gave the slightest hint of a very cynical smile and continued. ‘Do you drive a car, Mrs Sedgewick?’

Alice nodded. ‘But I sometimes use the bus.’

Delyth Fontaine asked the next question deceptively casually. ‘You can’t remember which you did tonight?’

‘I think I would probably have driven.’

It was almost an admission.

In which case the car would be outside. Delyth looked up and met Paul Talith’s eyes. It wouldn’t take the police long to home in on the registration number and search the hospital car park.

‘Do you feel unwell at the moment?’

A shake of the head.

‘Do you take any pills?’

Alice’s eyes looked bright. ‘I take something for my blood pressure,’ she said, in a reassuringly normal voice. ‘It’s a little high -’ the words were accompanied by a small, tight smile – ‘so my doctor tells me.’

‘Who is your doctor?’

‘I belong to the group practice on the Ellesmere Road.’

Delyth made a note of it.

‘Do you know where you are now?’

Alice nodded. ‘I’m at the hospital, I think, in a room at the accident and emergency department.’

It was all very precise and lucid – with significant bits missing.

‘Do you remember what you were doing earlier on this evening – before you came to the hospital?’

‘Decorating.’

Which explained the paint spatters on her clothes.

‘Do you mind if I just check your pulse and blood pressure?’

‘Not at all.’

Apart from a rapid pulse – 120 a minute – all the readings were normal as the police surgeon had anticipated. Except, of course, that no one in their right mind would call this a normal situation.

‘Mrs Sedgewick,’ she continued, ‘you seemed very upset earlier when the nurse looked at the baby you were carrying, wrapped up in a shawl.’

Alice’s shoulders drooped.

‘Do you need something to calm you down?’

Wearily she shook her head, bowing it in submission.

‘Do you have any objection to going down to the police station, Mrs Sedgewick?’

‘No.’

‘OK then.’ Delyth sighed and stood up, then left the room, followed by Roberts and Talith. ‘Fit to detain,’ she said. ‘I’ll ring Martha first thing Monday morning. You may as well take the infant straight to the hospital mortuary.’ Her eyes met those of both Roberts and Talith and she smiled. ‘It’ll at least free up the security guard.’

She paused then turned to speak only to Paul Talith. ‘I don’t want to tell you how to do your job,’ she said in a low voice, ‘but if I was the investigating officer in this case one of the first questions I’d ask would be how long she’s lived at her current address.’ She paused. ‘Assuming, that is, that the corpse was found somewhere near there. It’s a snowy night. The blanket was dry. I doubt she’d have been wandering in the countryside somewhere and stumbled across it. From the condition of the body the baby was been mummified – that is kept in warm, dry conditions. I would assume then that this body turned up in her own house. Oh and by the way, I don’t know where the blanket came from. It is a baby’s blanket but that hasn’t been with the baby’s body all this time. It’s too clean and in too good condition. If it had been wrapped around the body it would have deteriorated. Got stained, eaten by moths, rotted.’

Roberts and Talith both nodded. ‘Thanks, doc.’

‘Under the McNaughton Rules,’ she added, ‘I’m not absolutely certain whether she has a full and complete understanding of what’s going on around her. I suspect she’s working on two levels. Part of her mind is aware of her surroundings and part is somewhere else.’ She glanced back through the window at Alice’s calm face. ‘God only knows where. But wherever it is it doesn’t appear to be troubling her.’ Almost to herself she added, ‘I would dearly love to know how all this came about.’

Roberts nodded, with relief. Delyth Fontaine had taken charge, done her job and now they could take this weird woman down to the station and question her, which was what he and Talith were dying to do. A porter brought the mortuary trolley and loaded up the pathetic little bundle, zipped now in a forensic body bag, then trundled along the corridor to the hospital mortuary. The security guard was summoned to another part of the hospital where a confused patient had just assaulted a nurse, while the police were left to focus on their side of the job. Though she patently wasn’t a threat to them they both felt uncomfortable with her. She was unpredictable. They wondered whether she might ask to see the infant again and if they denied her request whether she would ‘flip’. One of the problems with having no blinds or curtains in Sister’s Office was that the trolley in which the infant’s body was encased was clearly visible through the window. There was nothing they could do about it. Sister’s Office was designed to have a goldfish view of the entire department. It ensured smooth running.

Paul Talith hadn’t always had the best of manners with the general public. He could be brusque but this time he made a real effort to do it properly. He hunkered down on his meaty thighs and spoke very gently to Alice. ‘I’m really sorry, Mrs Sedgewick,’ he said in his most polite and apologetic voice, ‘but we’re going to have to take a statement from you about…’ He jerked his head towards the window. ‘Down at the station. Is there anyone you’d like us to telephone?’ He gave a swift glance at her gold wedding band. ‘Your husband, perhaps?’ He ventured a friendly smile. ‘He must be wondering where on earth you are.’

All he got back was a guarded, panicked look. ‘I’d rather you didn’t,’ she answered tightly. ‘He’s away on business. Abroad. I don’t want to drag him from his work. He’s going through a difficult time.’ She met his eyes. ‘Like many people.’

Certainly like you, Talith thought, then realized none of this had sunk in. He sensed an aura of unreality around this woman and indeed the entire situation was surreal. How could she act with such normality having delivered a rotting corpse to the local hospital? Did she have no idea what was going on? Could she not see how abnormal this situation was, to be talking about ‘her husband being away on business’ when she’d arrived at the hospital nursing a long-dead baby?

He needed some anchor.

‘Well perhaps a family friend or a solicitor?’

Alice was silent for a while, frowning, thinking. Then her face cleared. ‘Both,’ she said, with a bright, social smile. ‘Let’s kill two birds with one stone.’ Then, equally unpredictably, she burst into tears. Talith straightened up, shot Roberts a despairing look and waited for the sobs to subside.

‘Acantha,’ she finally supplied. Roberts and Talith exchanged looks. Was that a name?

Alice Sedgewick finishing her crying with one last, wracking heave of her shoulders and explained. ‘Mrs Palk. She’s both family friend and a solicitor too. You can ring her if you like.’

I do like, Talith thought. Hope she can make some sense out of this. Then: ‘Do you have her number?’

Alice nodded and gave it out.

Roberts dialled the Shrewsbury number right then, using his mobile and breaking hospital rules. It was now after one in the morning. He didn’t expect much of a welcome and was not disappointed. The phone rang for a while before a male voice, both sleepy and angry, barked, ‘Yes?’

PC Roberts explained who he was and why he had rung and without another word the phone went dead while he heard an urgent, whispered conversation. Then another voice came on the line.

‘Hello?’ A calm, intelligent, sane voice. One which would take control. Thank goodness for that.

‘I’m PC Roberts from the Shrewsbury police.’

‘Yes?’

‘I’m speaking from the Royal Shrewsbury Hospital. We have a friend of yours here, a Mrs Sedgewick, in some rather strange circumstances.’

‘Alice? Is she hurt? Has she had an accident?’

‘No. She isn’t hurt but she’s in a bit of difficulty and we’re going to need to interview her down at the station. She has requested that you be present both as a solicitor and a friend.’

There was a moment’s silence than Mrs Palk said slowly, ‘What sort of difficulty, Constable Roberts?’

She’d made a note of his rank and name. Gethin Roberts swallowed. ‘I’d rather not say,’ he said. ‘It’s better we speak face to face.’

There was another moment’s silence before Mrs Palk said, ‘OK. I’ll be down at the station in twenty minutes. Monkmoor?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll see you there then.’

‘Thank you. I’m sure Mrs Sedgewick will appreciate it.’

Too late. The phone had been put down.

Roberts returned to the room with his news. ‘She’ll meet us at the station in twenty minutes,’ he said. Mrs Sedgewick looked up, grateful.

‘Shall we go then?’

They had also anticipated that Mrs Sedgewick might react to her removal from what Roberts had termed her ‘sanctuary’ but she seemed almost to have forgotten about it. She didn’t twitch or turn her head as they left the department but thanked the waiting doctor almost as if she was on some social visit to the place. It was as though she was on autopilot and her polite, well-mannered self had taken over. Talith and Roberts felt distinctly uncomfortable.

The journey took less than fifteen minutes at that time of night. There were a few stray roisterers about but the night was too cold to loiter so the town was largely quiet and deserted. The Welsh bridge had been closed since the explosion less than a week ago. They turned into the Harlescott Road then took a right, soon reaching Monkmoor Police Station.

They ushered Mrs Sedgewick into an interview room and asked her again, ‘Are you sure you don’t want us to contact your husband? He might be worried about you.’

It provoked the same violently negative response as before. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Please.’

Paul Talith felt even more concerned. This response was unbalanced. Too vehement. He glanced at his watch and wished the solicitor would hurry up and arrive.

A couple more minutes ticked away. Talith tried again. ‘Son? Daughter?’

This time even more violent shaking of the head. Talith gave up and waited in silence for the solicitor to arrive.

At twenty five to two a.m. Acantha Palk made an appearance. She was a big woman – impressive – almost six feet tall and of mixed parentage at a guess. She had black frizzy hair which she had attempted to control with a hair clip, skin an attractively dark shade of olive and expressive big black eyes and was wearing an orange kaftan underneath a long black woollen coat. Alice seemed to come to life as her friend entered the room. She stood up. ‘Thank you for coming,’ she said. ‘I’m so sorry to get you…’

The big woman enveloped her in a bear hug. ‘Alice,’ she scolded, ‘what have you been up to? Too many gins behind the wheel?’

Alice simply shook her head.

Roberts and Talith exchanged glances.

Acantha Palk immediately took command. ‘If you wouldn’t mind,’ she said in a deep, booming voice, ‘I’d like to speak to Mrs Sedgewick alone for a few minutes.’

They would have loved to be flies on the wall. What story was Mrs Sedgewick telling her friend?

After about fifteen minutes the door opened and Ms Palk met their eyes.

‘A strange business,’ she commented.

It was that.

‘Mrs Sedgewick is very tired and upset,’ she continued without waiting for a comment. ‘I’d appreciate it if you kept your questions to a minimum for now. She’s not going to walk out on you or disappear. I’ll vouch for her.’

Talith spoke up. ‘All we want to know,’ he said heavily, ‘is how come she walked into the Accident and Emergency department holding what looked like the body of an infant that had been dead for years. Where’s it come from? We don’t know yet how the infant died, whether of natural causes or…’ He left it to the woman to fill in the gaps. ‘We’ll have to wait for the post-mortem so we don’t know how serious an offence has been committed. All we want is a little bit of enlightenment.’

‘True. I understand.’ She hesitated. ‘I’m not sure…’

I’ll bet you’re not, both Talith and Roberts thought.

Alice seemed calmer as they re-entered the room, sat down and switched on the recorder. They checked her name and details.

‘At some time last night you entered the Accident and Emergency department of the Royal Shrewsbury Hospital carrying something. Can you tell us what you were carrying?’

Alice gave a strange smile. ‘It was Poppy,’ she said clearly.

Ms Palk looked both startled and confused.

‘Who is Poppy?’ Talith asked.

Alice Sedgewick’s eyes dropped to the floor. ‘I’d rather not say,’ she whispered, ‘at least, not at the moment.’

‘Why did you take her to the hospital?’

‘Because she was ill.’

The two policemen and solicitor exchanged surprised glances. If they hadn’t seen the body for themselves it would have been a sane and logical answer. But…

‘And you thought one of the doctors or nurses would see her?’

‘Yes.’

‘But the nurses tell me that you didn’t register your arrival.’

‘I don’t really know how the system works,’ she confessed. ‘I thought they seemed so busy that they’d get around to me eventually and they did.’ Again it was a credible response.

Acantha Palk lifted her shoulders in a gesture of confusion.

Alice spoke again. ‘I didn’t think there was any hurry. She was so quiet, you see.’

Indeed.

Mrs Palk spoke up. ‘Is there any point in continuing this interview? My client is obviously not well.’

Talith stood up. ‘Can I have a quick word – outside?’

She nodded.

They closed the door behind them.

‘Has Mrs Sedgewick any record of mental disturbance?’

‘Not that I know of.’

‘She’s never been depressed?’

‘Again – no. Not that I know of.’

‘Do you know anyone called Poppy?’

‘No,’ Mrs Palk responded stiffly. ‘She has a daughter called Rosie. She lives in London. She’s a barrister. She’s going to be very angry about this. Most inconvenient. The publicity, you know.’

Paul Talith felt as though his head was spinning. Publicity? Inconvenience? Not exactly the words he’d have used.

‘Might it be an idea to ask Rosie to come and stay with her mother?’

Mrs Palk looked awkward. ‘I wouldn’t have thought so. They’re not particularly close. I think Rosie will want to distance herself from this. Besides – I did mention that to Alice. She is vehemently opposed to it. She doesn’t want Rosie to know anything about this business.’

‘It’s going to be hard keeping it from her,’ Talith ventured.

‘Yes, I know, sergeant,’ she said impatiently. ‘But those are her wishes. We can only respect them.’

Talith heaved a long sigh.

‘Look – I have a suggestion. Let me take her to my house. I’ll keep an eye on her. She’ll come to no harm.’

Talith was frowning. ‘Does she have a son?’

Acantha Palk gave a smile. ‘She won’t want Gregory around. She adores him. He lives in Turkey anyway. Let her tell him in her own way.’

‘What about her husband?’

Mrs Palk’s face changed as though a storm had blown across it. ‘Aaron Sedgewick is a very exacting man,’ she volunteered. ‘Exacting and probably the most self-absorbed person I have ever met in my entire life. He will only mind about this if it affects him either directly or indirectly.’

‘Where is he now?’

‘I don’t know. Probably on some business trip abroad. Maybe Germany. He goes there quite a lot. If she doesn’t want him to know about this…’ She left the sentence unfinished, hanging in the air.

‘He’s going to have to know at some point.’ Talith spoke bluntly. ‘For a start we’re going to have to make a search of the house – if that’s where the body was kept.’

Acantha shivered. ‘I wouldn’t like to be around when he finds out. He’ll worry it’ll affect his business and he has a hell of a temper too. He can fling things around with the best of them,’ she finished dryly.

Talith shrugged. ‘She didn’t give you any idea how this dead infant came to be with her?’

‘None.’

‘Do you have any idea who the child might be?’

‘No.’

‘Does the name Poppy mean anything to you?’

Acantha shook her head. ‘Look,’ she said awkwardly, ‘I’m sure this has nothing to do with it but Alice and Aaron quarrelled over Gregory years ago. I don’t think father and son have spoken since. Alice goes over to see him for a few weeks every year. Mother and son have remained close.’

‘What did Mr Sedgewick quarrel with his son about?’

‘I don’t know. Something silly in all probability. At a guess it would be more to do with Aaron than Gregory. Aaron is a very forceful personality.’

‘A control freak?’

She smiled. ‘If you want to call him that – yes.’ She seemed to want to say more but pressed her lips together tightly, containing whatever she had been tempted to say.

‘I don’t want to sound unkind or patronizing,’ she said finally, ‘but Alice is a very ordinary woman, very much in awe, enthralled by her husband’s wealth and status and Aaron drinks this up like nectar. Alice’s world is husband, son, daughter, home – in that order. This is completely strange and out of character. I’ve never known her do anything bizarre like this before. She always seemed nice. Ordinary.’

Paul Talith was floundering. ‘Her daughter, Rosie, is she exacting too?’

‘Oh yes. A chip off the old block all right. She’s a high flyer – a barrister with an eminent firm in London. Alice won’t want any scandal near her.’

‘Right,’ Talith said. ‘Well, it’s already been a long night. I’m happy for Mrs Sedgewick to go home under your care.’ He fingered the spot on the top of his head where he was just beginning to go bald. ‘We’re going to need a psychiatric assessment and wait for the result of the post-mortem. And how all this came about I really don’t know.’

Acantha almost smiled. ‘It’s going to take some unravelling, I agree. But not tonight, sergeant. And if it’s any help I would stake everything on the fact that Alice had absolutely nothing to do with the child’s death or the concealment of its body.’

Both Talith and Roberts resisted the temptation to ask the obvious question: so what was she doing nursing the corpse?

They watched the two women leave the station with a feeling of unreality. Had these events really happened or had they been one of those inexplicably strange and disturbing dreams?