The Frozen Shroud

CHAPTER SIX

The last time Hannah and Marc had met, the simmering tension between them almost exploded into all-out war. After Marc moved out of the house they shared, Hannah swore to herself that the break-up would be civilised. No ranting, no finger-pointing, no blame game. Even though the split was his fault. He’d cheated on her, but what made her determined to dump him wasn’t his betrayal — a symptom, not a cause — but his selfishness. It was in his DNA. People can apologise, and make amends; she even knew a couple of murderers who, on release from prison, had led lives as decent and worthwhile as others who never so much as nicked an office biro. But Marc would never change.

He didn’t get it. He wanted another chance, and was willing to beg. They’d been together so long that she could read him like one of his books, and he’d persuaded himself that if he grovelled for long enough, she would give in. A tried-and-tested tactic, but she’d stopped falling for it. Ditching him hurt, because he was a good companion, as well as good in bed and good to look at. But all good things came to an end. The decision was made, and if he put it down to stubbornness, too bad. And so, despite her best intentions, their skirmishes were becoming hostile. She hadn’t seen or spoken to him since a huge row about putting Undercrag on the market.

‘What do you want?’ she snapped.

She heard him choke off a grunt of exasperation. ‘Bad day at the office?’

‘Yes.’

‘Sorry to hear it. I heard on the radio about cuts in police spending. Hope you’re not directly affected.’

On his best behaviour, then. He was seldom so sympathetic about her work. Last time, she’d made the mistake of venting about Lauren Self and her demands for ‘efficiencies’, provoking Marc into a homily about the cosseted life led by public sector workers. People in the private sector, who actually made and sold things, weren’t blessed with gold-plated pension benefits, taxpayer-funded early retirement schemes, and long-term occupational sick pay. She retaliated by asking if he really believed that selling second-hand books would kick-start economic recovery, and the conversation plummeted downhill from there.

‘Lauren is downsizing the team. I’ll be left with two detectives and a couple of kids in the back office.’

‘Jesus, after all you’ve done.’

‘Yeah, well.’ She’d blundered by giving him the chance to offer moral support. ‘You didn’t answer my question. What do you want?’

‘I saw Daniel Kind a few minutes ago. He asked after you.’

‘You rang to tell me that? Thanks, but I can’t see my desk for paperwork.’

Not literally true — otherwise, she’d have committed a hanging offence under the terms of the Clear Desk Policy — but she still had plenty to do before heading home for a quick shower and change before her rendezvous with Terri.

‘Hannah, I’ve been thinking. There’s so much we need to sort out. Talk over. There’s Undercrag, and everything else. Why don’t we get together, over a drink, or a meal if you’re up for that?’

‘We tried that, and nearly came to blows, remember?’

‘My fault, I’m sorry. I’ll keep my stupid mouth shut next time. Promise.’

‘Then it will be a rather one-sided conversation, won’t it? The estate agent will email you about the sales particulars, to check you’re happy with them. As for your books in the loft, we can sort out a date for you to come and collect. You still have your key, so I can make myself scarce while you’re shifting stuff.’

‘The last thing I want you is for you to make yourself scarce. Hannah, listen, I’m pleading here. Won’t you reconsider?’

‘I’ve done plenty of considering. My mind’s made up. End of.’

The brush-off sounded more brutal than she’d meant. His tone changed into something wintry and quite unlike Marc.

‘So who is your urgent appointment with? Not Daniel Kind.’

Who did he think he was? ‘You’re right. And you also need to start minding your own business.’

‘You are my business.’ His voice was clotted with anger and distress. Oh Jesus, was he about to burst into tears? ‘You’re seeing Greg Wharf, aren’t you?’

Hannah didn’t trust herself to answer without making things worse. He didn’t have a monopoly on anger and distress. She killed the call.

She still had her head in her hands when Les Bryant looked in to say goodnight.

Hannah stood at the door of Balotelli’s and scanned the bar. Terri was perched on a high stool by the counter, as unmissable as a bird of paradise on a dry stone wall. Since their last get together at a curry evening during the Kendal Festival of Food, she’d dyed her hair a vivid red to match her lips and fingernails. To have poured herself into that tiny skirt, she must have lost close to a stone in quick time. But then, Terri never did things by halves. She was wearing lashings of musky perfume, and she’d already finished her first Bacardi and coke of the evening. At least, Hannah hoped it was her first.

‘Sorry I’m late.’

‘No problem. Someone’s got to keep the thin blue line intact, eh?’

‘Easier said than done. The ACC is downsizing my team. Left to her, the cold cases would freeze.’

‘Stupid bitch,’ Terri said. ‘What are you drinking? Please, not orange juice again.’

‘I was planning to drive home tonight, stone cold sober.’

‘Forget it. Call a cab, like me.’

‘Okay, you win. I’ll have a glass of Sauvignon Blanc. Small one.’ This might just turn into a very long evening. ‘Stay with me at Undercrag overnight. It’s safer than going home. What if Stefan’s lurking in the shadows when the cab drops you at your front door?’

‘It’s okay, thanks, I’m sorted for tonight.’

So that explained why she’d gone overboard on the perfume. Hannah peered at her friend. ‘What have you arranged?’

‘God, I wouldn’t like to be a suspect you took in for questioning. No third degree, please, I’m not in the mood.’

‘There’s something different about you. Not just your hair colour. Which I love, by the way.’

‘Thanks, sweetheart. I refuse to think about all the petrochemicals that go into caring for it. As for what else has changed, you’re the detective, I’ll give you three guesses. Sorry, deductions.’

‘You haven’t …’

Terri smirked. ‘I might have.’

Well, well. So she’d finally gone for it. Those bags under Terri’s eyes, legacy of countless late nights and chip suppers, and cause of more angst than all her cellulite, wrinkles and weight issues put together, had vanished. There was still a touch of swelling, but any bruises that remained had been skilfully camouflaged. The pair of them had often debated cosmetic surgery. Hannah had no time for it, and she’d given Marc short shrift when he made the mistake of wondering aloud if implants might be worth the money. Terri was more than happy to give Mother Nature a helping hand, if only she could afford it.

‘How much did that cost, if you don’t mind my asking?’

‘My lips are sealed — and not because I’ve gone in for a trout pout!’ Terri was gleeful. ‘Honestly, I can’t imagine why I’ve waited so long. It’s not that I’m such a horribly vain old cow. Deep down, I’m shy and retiring, happy to fade into the background.’ This last was an outrageous untruth, and Hannah struggled not to gasp. ‘It’s about changing my life, and boosting morale, and the plan has worked a treat. A single day being treated like royalty in this posh private hospital, and hey presto! I look ten years younger and feel like a teenager on the pull again.’

‘You look fantastic. Then again, you always do.’

Terri squeezed her hand. ‘Thanks for not scolding me, Han. I know you disapprove.’

‘I’d never do it myself, but everyone has to make up their own mind. Free country.’

‘Is it? Sometimes I wonder. But really, the surgery has made such a difference. Especially with this palaver about Stefan and everything.’

‘The big issue with Stefan Deyna is how to kick him out of your life.’

Not that Hannah was necessarily well qualified to advise on dumping a troublesome ex-partner, given how hard she was finding it to ditch a second-hand bookseller who, for all his faults, was a thousand times gentler than Stefan.

‘Sorry I acted like a wet Kleenex when I rang you. He’s behaved like an utter shit, but everything will be fine in the long run.’

A thought struck Hannah. ‘He didn’t … contribute to the cost of the surgeon, did he?’

‘No way!’ Terri squeaked in outrage. ‘What do you take me for? As a matter of fact, he hates my new look. He thinks these changes are about making a brand new me, and for once, he’s dead right.’

‘Shall we order some food, if you need to get away before it’s too late?’

Terri frowned, weighing pros and cons. ‘Actually, I’m desperate for a wee. Back in a minute.’

If she did want to blend into the scenery, the crimson lips and talons, tight top and black micro-skirt weren’t the right way to go about it. Threading through the salivating office workers who circled the bar, she seemed not to notice the threat she posed to their blood pressure, but Hannah knew she was lapping up the attention. The blink-and-you-miss-it wiggle of the bum was the proof. Oh well, good luck to her. Terri dressed to kill not only because she loved to look great, but as her way of coping. Time after time, life knocked her over, but she never failed to dust herself down and start again.

Hannah took a quick peek at her emails while she waited. The estate agent said someone was interested in Undercrag. Time to think about where to move next. The house was ideal when they were a couple, but too rambling and expensive for either of them to live there alone. A pity, since she adored the solitude, hidden away from the bustle yet only a stiff walk from the centre of Ambleside. Perhaps the truth was that she was a loner, happiest in her own company, and unsuited to the give-and-take of a long-term relationship. Funny, she’d once imagined she would end up in a conventional marriage with two point four children, maybe working part-time behind the scenes for Cumbria Constabulary. But the clock ticked on, and with each passing year the fantasy existence faded further away.

‘Would you care for a drink?’

A man resembling a pinstriped Friar Tuck had detached himself from a group of middle-aged men in sleek suits that didn’t adequately hide their paunches. They were talking loudly about football, but looked as though they’d never scored in their lives. Bankers out on the razzle after a day spent inflicting further damage on the economy?

‘No, thanks.’

After the day she’d had, she wouldn’t give Jude Law a second glance. To her relief, she saw Terri weaving her way back to her side. The man permitted himself a leer, and when Terri responded with a look she might bestow on a maggot emerging from a chocolate cake, he scuttled off to the safety of debate about the destiny of the Premier League title.

‘They never learn,’ she said.

‘Perhaps we don’t, either,’ Hannah said.

‘Yeah, well. Change of plan. Can I take you up on your kind offer? I’d love to stay over. I was bothered because you need to work in the morning, but one late night won’t hurt, eh?’

What plan had she changed? ‘Are you sure it suits you?’

‘What could be better than spending the night with my best mate?’

Historically, she’d preferred to spend the night with her latest unworthy loser. The reticence to explain Plan A suggested that Hannah wouldn’t approve of it.

‘Just like old times, then?’

Terri’s face broke into the smile that always melted Hannah’s heart, even when they’d been fighting cat and dog. They’d met at school, and bonded as fast as superglue, thanks to a shared hatred of their games teacher. Terri was the daredevil, forever getting into trouble; Hannah provided the shoulder to cry on. She was the one who felt uncomfortable unless she played by the rules. Was the secret of their enduring friendship — that each of them wanted to be more like the other?

‘What shall we have, then?’ Hannah picked up a menu. ‘A poster in the window said a Neil Diamond tribute act starts in half an hour. Let’s order a bottle of something, and then if he’s hopeless, the booze will dull the pain.’

‘You still know how to get round me, kid.’ Terri clapped her hands, as enthusiastic as she had been back in Year 7. ‘We’re gonna have a great night, aren’t we? Just like old times.’

Before Marc came along, in other words. They’d still seen plenty of each other, but the combination of long hours at work and Marc’s tendency to monopolise meant that Hannah often had to say no when Terri asked her out. Hannah had never married, while Terri had trotted down the aisle no fewer than three times, but Terri was always up for a night on the town, and if her man of the moment didn’t like it, he could lump it.

A young and rather handsome waiter called Giovanni found them a table in the restaurant, chatting them up as he did so. Morale duly boosted, Terri demanded to know the state of play with Marc.

‘He’s becoming a pest. Nothing like as awful as the hassle you’re experiencing at the moment, but …’

‘You’re sure it’s over and done with between you?’

‘Cross my heart and hope to die.’

Terri had gone out for a drink with Marc before things started to get heavy with Stefan, and she admitted to fancying him. Was she was paving the way for a shift from casual flirtation to full-on affair?

Hannah’s face gave her away, and Terri put down her glass and said, ‘Hey, don’t get the wrong idea. Not many women would kick him out of bed, but we never got further than a peck on the cheek, and we’re not going to. Trust me.’

‘I wouldn’t be upset.’ Hannah laughed. ‘You’d be doing me a favour. I can’t wait for him to get fixed up with someone else, so that he’ll stop bugging me. He and I both need to move on.’

‘Watch my lips. I’m definitely not moving on with Marc, that’s not an answer to your prayers. You ought to try my method. Let him see you canoodling with a new man, so he understands he’s history.’ She leant across the table. ‘Talking of history, where are you up to with Daniel Kind?’

‘Not seen him for ages. Too busy.’

Terri swallowed a chunk of garlic bread. ‘You’re crazy, you know that? Absolutely off your lovely head. The guy used to be on television, for God’s sake!’

‘Am I that shallow?’

A whoop of laughter. ‘Well, I might be. Why not? That ditzy journalist he was shagging has gone back to London. I reckon he only teamed up with her on the rebound after the other girl topped herself in Oxford. If you ask me, he’s done his grieving. He’ll be looking to settle down with someone else before long, you mark my words. Snap him up while he’s still on the market.’

Hannah groaned. ‘You’re impossible.’

‘Come on, sweetheart. Joking apart, you obviously enjoy his company, and he fancies you like mad.’

‘You’re imagining it.’

‘Trust me. I’m never wrong about these things.’

‘Of course you are.’

‘Well, anyway. I’m not wrong about Daniel. He’s only held back because he’s had some bruising experiences in the past. That’s why he comes over as introspective. But once you get past the barriers, he’s a fun guy. Go for it, kid. Hurry now, while stocks last.’

‘It’s not that simple.’

‘Bollocks. You enjoy making things complicated.’ Terri slurped down the rest of her wine and glared. ‘Or is that the old inferiority complex? You never think you’re good enough, do you?’

Hannah almost choked on the last chunk of her spicy pizza. ‘What inferiority complex?’

‘Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m on about. You always hold back, you’re worse than Daniel. Shit-scared of showing your true feelings. This mad idea that you’re unworthy. It’s why you kept old Ben Kind at bay all those years ago, isn’t it?’

‘What do you mean?’ Hannah demanded.

Terri refilled her glass, and downed most of the wine in a single gulp. ‘He fancied you rotten, but you worshipped him and thought you weren’t old enough or good enough to lick the great detective’s boots. I can’t believe you couldn’t see it, Hannah, you must have been blind. The man would have loved nothing better than a good licking, if it came from you. And now he’s dead, and you’re on the way to making the same stupid mistake with his son.’

‘Quite a speech.’ Hannah tasted her drink. The hand holding the glass was trembling.

‘Is that all you can say?’ Terri threw up her arms in frustration, knocking the wine bottle to the floor in the process. Giovanni scurried over to check everything was all right, and once he’d been despatched for the dessert menu, she said, ‘Sorry to be blunt, but you did ask. And it did need to be said.’

‘I suppose I should say thanks?’

‘Don’t come over all offended. You know I never speak with forked tongue. At least, not to you.’

Terri was actually a seasoned and accomplished fibber when it suited her, and Hannah was sure she was being economical with the facts about Stefan. That was another story. Reluctantly, she recognised enough truth in the caricature of her as a shrinking violet not to start a row. In vino veritas.

With exaggerated patience, she said, ‘I’m a career police officer. Daniel is an academic who travels the world, lecturing and signing books and all that stuff. Even if he was keen, it would never work. Not long term.’

‘Never say never!’

‘Isn’t that the motto that’s messed up your life more times than either of us can count?’

Terri pretended to recoil. ‘Ouch!’

Her fit of pique subsiding, Hannah managed a grin. ‘Don’t dish it out, if you can’t take it.’

Terri roared with laughter. She had an alarmingly high tolerance for alcohol, but the amount she’d put away was having an effect.

‘Okay, I deserve that. But you get the point? We only live once. Gotta make the most of it. A woman like you should aim high. Higher than that detective sergeant of yours, not to put too fine a point on it.’

‘What DS of mine?’

‘Come off it! You’re not the only smart detective sitting at this table, you know. The way you slag him off is such a red herring. Even that gay cop you used to be so pally with, he never made such an impression on you. Those were the days, when you knew better than to mess on your own doorstep.’

‘Quite the amateur psychologist this evening, aren’t you?’ Hannah’s temper was rising again.

Unrepentant, Terri smirked. ‘We’re like two agony aunts, really, forever looking out for each other.’

‘Well, I’m not screwing Greg Wharf, okay? Which means I don’t need to take care over him, thanks all the same.’

The intro to ‘Sweet Caroline’ began to thud out of the overhead speakers and a man in a bomber jacket strode onto the stage. He was wearing a black-and-white striped bob hat and scarf, Newcastle United colours. A couple of middle-aged women at the front of the room whooped with delight as, one by one, he ripped off jacket, scarf and hat to reveal a sparkly shirt and leather trousers at least a size too small. As a stripper, he was no Phyllis Dixey, but his fan club didn’t care.

Terri contemplated the wannabe superstar’s trousers for a couple of minutes before she said, ‘You may not be sleeping with him yet, but it’s on the cards, isn’t it? I took a peek at your star sign today. It said you were on the verge of a momentous event, one which will shake your world to its very foundations. Well, my advice is, make the earth move with Daniel Kind instead.’

By the time they were in the back of the taxi, easing through the lanes that led to Undercrag, Hannah had mellowed, and Terri seemed, through some metabolic miracle, to be sobering up. The crooning of the wannabe Neil had had a strangely tranquilising effect.

‘We need to talk about Stefan,’ Hannah said.

Terri gazed into the darkness of the night, humming ‘I’m a Believer’ slightly out of tune. ‘Sounds like the title of a film.’

‘Don’t dodge the issue. When you called me, you were scared to death. I heard it in your voice, and I didn’t like it one bit.’

‘Sorry, Hannah. It was selfish of me to disturb you at work, especially when you’re under the cosh.’

‘All I’m bothered about is making sure that man does you no harm. Stalkers are dangerous. You have to take them seriously.’

‘Oh, I am taking him seriously. You’re offering me a roof over my head tonight, and tomorrow I’m out at a party with … the people I work for.’

‘For Hallowe’en? How can you be sure Stefan won’t follow you? Trick-or-treaters get everywhere, he may sense an opportunity to make mischief.’

‘The party is at Oz and Melody’s house, out in the middle of nowhere. Stefan will never find his way to Ravenbank.’

After years of working for herself, Terri had found the going tough in a wintry economic climate. At a jazz concert, she’d met the wife of the man whose events company had organised it, and blagged herself a job. Early days, but she seemed to love it. Once the honeymoon period came to an end, though, Hannah suspected her friend would probably hate not being able to please herself. Most of her jobs had ended in tears; she was suited by temperament to being self-employed and answering to no one. Had so many of her relationships with men fallen apart because — though she would sooner die than admit it — she was better off single?

‘You haven’t said yet what Stefan did that made you call me.’

‘Is this the right turning, love?’ the taxi driver asked.

Hannah glanced out of the window. The new security lighting illuminated the area around Undercrag. No sign of that hulking brute hiding among the trees. Not that she expected Stefan to be quite so stupid as to stake out a DCI’s home on the off chance that his former lover might show up. She leant forward.

‘Yes, if you can drop us off outside the front door?’

Once they were standing out in the cold night air, and the taxi had disappeared off back to Ambleside, Hannah said, ‘Well?’

Terri hesitated. ‘All right, you did ask. He said he wasn’t going to let me treat him the way his wife did back in Poland. If he couldn’t have me, why should he let me go to someone else?’

‘And if you didn’t give in, if he absolutely couldn’t have you?’

‘Then he would kill me.’ Terri turned, and contemplated the moon. ‘To show he means business, he’s stolen my cat. I daren’t think what the bastard has done with poor Morrissey, but he’s dropped a hint by sending me a photograph with my head cut off.’

‘You need to make a formal complaint.’ They were facing each other on the massive sofa in a living room warmed by a roaring fire. A bottle of Bailey’s and a couple of half-empty glasses sat on the table in front of them. Hannah had decided not to fret about how she would feel in the morning. ‘I’ll give you the name of someone who can take steps to sort this out once and for all.’

Terri shook her head. ‘We’ve been through this. It’s not a solution.’

‘Please, do it for me.’ Hannah grasped her friend’s wrist. ‘This is how violent men get away with it. They rely on terrifying their victims. Women who suffer repeated beatings, women who are raped. Even when they tell us what has happened to them, so often they are too scared to follow through. The CPS need evidence, and witnesses who won’t be intimidated, and time after time we see cases fall apart and the guilty walk free. So they can do it all over again.’

‘You make it sound like I’m letting the side down.’ Terri pulled her arm away. ‘I’ll be fine, promise. I just need a little time. Breathing space.’

‘Stay here as long as you like, that’s not a problem. But you must do something to protect yourself.’

‘Stefan is already up for trial after smacking the lad he worked with. Chances are, he’ll be deported soon.’

‘Don’t bank on it. His brief will wheel out the Human Rights Act and before you can say Strasbourg, he’ll be issuing a writ for false arrest. And how long will it take for the case to come to trial? There’s a massive backlog in the courts.’

‘Then what difference would it make if I did file a complaint? You’ve moaned so many times about how bureaucracy complicates the job of locking people up, and right now I don’t need any more stress. Anyway, the papers are full of people being let out of prison because they’ve run out of room. Stefan will go apeshit if some spotty young constable knocks on his door and says I’ve shopped him.’

‘And what about Morrissey?’

Stefan had given Morrissey to Terri. Not that Terri was an animal lover; she’d never so much as kept a goldfish in the past. When Hannah was introduced, she couldn’t help thinking Morrissey was even more obsessed with his looks than his owner, but at least the gift seemed to mark a promising start to the relationship.

Not for long. Since the break-up of her third marriage, Terri had rebounded from man to man. She’d taken this new job because hairdressing, make-up and all her other business ventures never made enough to finance her extravagant spending. Her shoe collection alone would turn Imelda Marcos green with envy. A shrink would have a field day with Terri. The men, the boozing, and now the facelift were all down to a search for something lacking in her life, something she’d yet to find. Hannah had no doubt that secretly, she craved stability. Her mother was dead, and her father had emigrated after falling for a Spanish-American woman who drank even more heavily than he did. More than ever before, she was on her own. Other than Hannah, her closest friends were all in steady relationships, and she’d managed to antagonise most of them, or their partners, at one time or another. ‘Me and my big mouth’ was a favourite phrase. In moments of self-awareness, Terri was at her most vulnerable, and that was when Hannah loved her most.

At other times, she felt like shooting her.

‘It makes me sick to think of what has happened to the poor creature. Confession time, I’m not really a cat person. Morrissey and I didn’t really get on, he obviously thought I was common. But even so.’

Hannah wasn’t a cat person either, but cruelty to anyone or anything made her gorge rise. ‘Are you sure Stefan has taken him?’

‘The woman who lives next door told me she’d seen him picking up Morrissey in the street when I was out at work. Said she didn’t think any more of it till I came round asking if she’d seen my cat. She’s as daft as a brush, thinks I’m after her husband because I took round cakes I’d baked one day when she was out.’

‘And are you after him?’

‘Give me a break. The feller’s seventy, he’s got one leg, and he keeps pigeons. I mean, I know you think I’m desperate, but honestly.’

Terri always made her laugh, even at times like this. ‘This photograph you mentioned, when did it arrive?’

‘I was only working a half-day today. I came home and found it stuffed through the letter box. It’s a snap Stefan took of me at Bowness. I was looking rather tasty in my bikini top, though I say it myself. Anyway, it was a head-and-shoulders snap — converted into just shoulders. He’d cut off my head, from the neck up.’

‘Did any witnesses see him posting the photo?’

‘No, the neighbours were out. Pigeon Club annual meeting, more than likely. It had to be Stefan, who else? But it’s only a photograph. He’s not actually harmed anyone. Well, at least not me.’

Hannah fought back a yawn. She wasn’t bored, but shattered. The clock said twenty past one, and she’d been up since six. She’d drunk too much, her temples were roaring, and if she didn’t go to bed soon, she’d crash out right here. How to make Terri see sense? One last heave.

‘If you won’t talk to the police, will you see a solicitor? I’ll come along too if it helps. Take out an injunction. Stalking is a crime these days, but there are civil remedies too. You could seek compensation.’

‘I’m not interested in money.’

In the pantheon of Terri’s breathtaking statements, this was up there with ‘I don’t know why I was barred, I’d only had a couple of small vodkas’ and ‘He reckons he’s gay, but if you ask me, he’s open to persuasion.’

‘You wanted help,’ Hannah snapped, ‘but every suggestion I make, you throw back in my face. All right, I give up. I’m going to bed.’

‘Already?’ Terri’s face fell. ‘There was something else I thought I might …’

Hannah groaned. ‘What?’

A loud sigh. ‘Doesn’t matter, it’ll keep. I hadn’t really meant to bother you yet anyway. Sorry, Hannah. You’ve been brilliant, as always. What would I do without you?’

‘I don’t need thanks. What I need is to be sure you’re okay.’

‘Hey, I’ll be fine. When I found that photograph on the mat, it spooked me, but I’m over it now. Stefan won’t turn my life into a train wreck, believe me.’

‘Goodnight, then.’

‘G’night, sweetie.’

Hannah blew her a kiss, and hauled her weary body up the stairs. Unlike Neil Diamond, she wasn’t a believer.