Chapter 13

"Cormoran?"

"Yeah?" Strike was in the office kitchen making tea.

"Mum was asking what you're doing for Christmas this year. She wanted to invite you up to Masham."

"Really?" Strike turned around to look at Robin sitting at her desk.

"Yes, really." Robin smiled.

"Well, erm, that's very kind of your Mum to ask, but…."

Robin held up her hands. "I promised I would ask you, but don't feel obliged at all. I can make something up and let Mum down gently. Honestly, I can imagine the thought of a Christmas in Masham is probably horrific for you."

"No, no, it's not that," said Strike. "It's just that I've already got two invites this year, from Lucy and Nick and Ilsa. I haven't decided on which one I'm going to yet and I just think it would be awkward to turn down both of those at this stage….erm….sorry…..you know what I mean, don't you?"

"Of course. Anyway, I already warned Mum that you would probably being going to Lucy's. It's fine."

"Christ, I feel bad now." Strike had approached Robin's desk and looked at her intently as he said, "Please tell your Mum thanks very much for thinking of me. It's really very generous. I don't know what I've done to deserve it."

"Yeah, search me!" laughed Robin, trying to mask her shivers in response to Strike's stare. "Although Mum seems to be your biggest fan these days. She's always asking after you and back in the summer, she….."

Strike waited for a few moments before asking, "You were saying?"

"Erm…..it's not important." Robin blushed and lowered her eyes. Shit! Why did her face always give her away?

Strike raised his eyebrows and knit them together in a quizzical knot, but then just shrugged.

"That reminds me, what are WE doing for Christmas? Shall we have a night out or what?" he asked.

"Ooooh, a night out. Get you!" said Robin in a mocking, haughty tone.

"I can be quite sociable when I want to be," replied Strike defensively.

"Yes, I know you can." Robin laughed.

"So, what d'you think? Or would you rather have a lunch?"

"Well, I think we've left it too late to be honest. We won't get a reservation at a decent restaurant at this stage."

"Yeah, you're probably right," replied Strike, scratching his beard.

"Why don't we just go out for a wander on Christmas Eve? I'm getting the train up north later that day. I could bring all my stuff in early in the morning and then I'll be ready to go for the train later."

"Aren't you driving?" asked Strike.

"I thought about it, but then the roads will probably be chock-a-block with traffic. And on the way back. And I don't really need a car in Masham because I always drive Mum's car. So I just booked train tickets a while back."

"Right. A Christmas Eve pub crawl it is then. Sounds good to me." Strike smiled, then turned and walked back into his room.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Christmas Eve arrived and Robin was excited. She had carefully packed her Christmas gifts and clothes for her nine day trip back to Yorkshire. She had also risen early to do her hair, make up and clothes for the day. It might only be a pub crawl, but Robin wanted to look her best. For herself of course, but also for Strike. God, I'm behaving like a teenage girl she thought, looking in the mirror.

Robin was conscious that she would be travelling later in the day, so she put on dark jeans, heeled ankle boots, a top and some bright jewellery. Her top was dark green, with long sleeves, a deep v-neck and sparkly embellishment along the edges of the neckline. It was slightly transparent, so Robin wore a black camisole underneath. She couldn't decide whether to wear her hair up or down, so opted for down. She curled the ends of her hair a little to create some waves. To complete her look, she donned a black faux-fur fitted coat and a mottled, silk-like scarf. She surveyed her reflection in the mirror. Does he ever notice me beyond work and cases, she wondered?

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

For his part, Strike was deciding between two shirts, both new. Why am I bothered with this? he thought. It's only a pub crawl. No-one is the least bit interested in what I'm wearing for Christ's sake. But then Robin will be her usual gorgeous self, so better make an effort. I don't want to let her down. He chose a new, but casual white shirt. He always thought he looked best in a white shirt, although he was usually wearing one with a suit and tie, so maybe that was the reason rather than the shirt. Whatever.

Strike then showered and trimmed and shaved carefully around his usual facial growth. He then donned his new shirt and his best jeans and carried his coat downstairs to the office. Does she ever notice me beyond the jobs and the files, he pondered?

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

When Robin appeared in the office, she was dragging her suitcase and had an extra bag around her shoulders. She positioned them in the corner before removing her coat and slumping in her chair. There would be a few hours of work to be done before they went out. Strike emerged from his office.

"You're looking very nice today Robin. Going somewhere special?" he joked. He had to make a joke to disguise his true reactions, an intake of breath, extra beating going on somewhere in his chest. That colour of green is a perfect contrast against her hair. She is utterly gorgeous. Why was I sent this beautiful creature to sit in my office and turn my world upside down?

"Yes, very special. It's my Christmas day out," Robin giggled. "You scrub up quite nicely yourself Mr Strike." She was also working hard to remain composed and shifted in her chair. He's wearing a white shirt, my favourite. I don't know what it is about that colour on him, I think it's the contrast to the darkness of his features. Why do I suddenly find him so dishy, when I didn't think that a few years ago?

"We'll work until about 12 o'clock and then we'll go. Does that suit you?" asked Strike.

"Yeah, sure."

Inevitably, the day out started in the Tottenham. It was already busy with revellers and they stood near the bar, already on their second drinks.

"I don't know about you, but I'm starving," said Strike.

"Now there's a surprise," quipped Robin.

"Just you watch it," replied Strike, looking at Robin with a mock scowl on his face. She dissolved into laughter, the wine already having a relaxing effect. I just love it when she laughs. It's irresistible. I feel it rubbing off on me, rubbing off on everyone. Today is going to be dangerous.

"Well, why don't we move on for food then? Can't have you being a grump because your belly's rumbling," said Robin teasingly.

"What variety of food would mademoiselle prefer?

"Oh you choose. I'm not bothered."

"Chinese?" offered Strike.

"Chinese? But you have that every week."

"Yeah, there's a reason for that. It's because I like it." Strike produced one of his cute smiles, which then turned into a chuckle. Oh God, there it is. That adorable smile and those eyes that just turn my legs to jelly. My resolve has gone to pot already.

"Ok then," said Robin, accepting the inevitable.

Strike and Robin wandered towards Chinatown and soon found themselves ensconced in a Cantonese restaurant. Strike was recognised by the restaurant staff, who made a fuss over him.

"You seem to be popular in here?" said Robin, looking at Strike in curiosity.

"Erm yeah, I suppose I've been in here a few times."

"A few? They're treating you like royalty for heaven's sake."

Strike just smirked. They ordered drinks while they perused the menu and chose their respective starters and main courses.

"Well here's a challenge for you Cormoran. Can you eat all of your main course only with chopsticks?"

"In a word, no."

"Oh come on. Will you not even try?" asked Robin, with a spark in her eyes.

"What's my reward if I do it?" asked Strike.

"Mmm, let me see," said Robin, as she rubbed her chin, thinking. "A kiss under the mistletoe in the office."

"We don't have any bloody mistletoe in the office."

"I know! Just testing."

"You are a minx, Robin Ellacott, d'you know that?" said Strike, looking at Robin with affection.

"When allowed." Robin fluttered her eyelashes in a mock gesture of flirtation.

Strike took a swig of his newly arrived beer while he stretched out his leg and made himself more comfortable in his seat. Fuck. Now all I'll be thinking about is kissing those rosebud lips, which is never gonna happen.

Robin felt the brush of Strike's leg as he adjusted himself, but she didn't move and let the connection remain. Bugger, what a bad joke. Now all I'll be thinking about is kissing Cormoran, which is as likely as flying to the moon.

The meal was served efficiently and Strike and Robin chatted and laughed their way through it. Never afraid of a challenge, Strike made an attempt to eat his main course with chopsticks.

"Bloody hell. How are you supposed to hold these things?" he asked, as he examined them.

"I think it's like this." Robin held the sticks in her own hands. "You hold the top one almost like a pencil. At least, I think that's the right way. Here, let me show you." Robin reached over and directed Strike's fingers around his own chopsticks.

"Yeah, that seems better. But I'd still rather use a knife and fork. There aren't enough hours in the day for this!"

Eventually, Strike finished his meal, determined to eat all of it with the chopsticks. It's not just these bloody things, he thought. I can't take my eyes off Robin's long, sleek neck, those collarbones, the hint of her cleavage, the generous swelling of her breasts under her blouse. Fuck, shit and fuck.

Robin had long ago finished her meal and just sat observing and laughing at Strike while he struggled with his. Eventually, Strike finished and Robin gave him some small applause.

"I'm very impressed Mr Strike. But I knew you could do it."

"It won't be repeated. At least it stopped me from wolfing the whole thing down too fast."

"True. Do you want any dessert? Tea or coffee?"

"Nah. Let's just get to another pub for more drinks," replied Strike.

"Agreed. I think you've more than earned it."

Strike settled the bill and they left the restaurant in search of some more Christmas drinks. They stumbled into a pub in Soho, where they settled in a corner which had luckily just become vacant. Strike ordered two drinks each to save pushing through the mass of customers too often.

"Right Miss Ellacott, now for your challenge. Down that drink in a one-er." He pointed to one of Robin's wine glasses.

"Oh Christ. I'm going to be so sozzled on the train tonight," moaned Robin.

"No excuses."

"Ok."

Robin picked up one of the glasses, took a deep breath and steadily drank down the wine. When she had finished, she grimaced as if in pain.

Strike chuckled. "Why do you drink that stuff if you don't like it? You look as though you've just swallowed castor oil or something."

"I do like it. Just not in such a hurry. Honestly, I will be paraletic before long."

Strike laughed again. "You have to build up some resistance and that takes practice. You need more practice."

"You volunteering to give me that?"

"Maybe." Strike looked at Robin fondly and she in return. I do like his beard. I can imagine touching it, running my fingers over it to his Adam's apple. And his chest hair. It's so thick, so…. I'd love to feel that. Bugger and shit.

Strike and Robin moved on to two more Soho hostelries before deciding it was time to go back to the office, so Robin could catch her train. In between chatting, they were both caught up in their own thoughts.

Strike: I am in such fucking deep shit. I'm thinking all of the things I've been telling myself not to all these months. It wouldn't take much for me to do something really stupid with Robin. This could turn out to be the best Christmas lunch and the worst one all at the same time. How does that work?

Robin: Where has my willpower gone? Down the drain. I'm going to say or do something to Cormoran that's totally inappropriate, I just know it. There'll be no going back. God help me.

At the office, Strike slouched down onto the sofa, his hair tousled like a small boy. Robin went to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of water.

"Would you like some water?" asked Robin.

"No thanks. That's cheating."

"Cheating?" Robin laughed. "You won't be saying that in the morning. I know I won't."

"You'll be fine. You can sleep it off on the train."

"Mum will give me one of her disapproving looks when she picks me up. I'll just tell her that it was all your fault and you're leading me astray. That'll be your fan club finished." Robin pointed over to Strike in a provocative fashion.

"Aw no! Don't do that. I love Linda's fan club. It's the only one I've got. You can't deprive a man of his fan club for fuck sake." Strike held out his hands in mock horror.

Robin started laughing hard and Strike responded in kind.

"I'll see what I can do," replied Robin, still giggling.

"Yeah, you'd better. Or I'll be phoning up Linda myself," retorted Strike.

Robin moved to lean against the kitchen partition. "Well, thanks for a lovely day Cormoran. I've really enjoyed myself."

"Me too Robin, me too. We should do this more often. Even when it's not Christmas."

Look at her. So shapely in those jeans. They must be painted on. I would just love to touch her golden hair, her face, her…..stop. Fucking STOP!

"Yeah, we should. I'm going to remind you every week. Maybe every day."

Look at him sitting there. His hair all messy, but masculine and broad and hairy and those hands….Christ almighty. Would you have a word with yourself?

Strike rose from the sofa a bit unsteadily. He walked through to his office. He had run out of cigarettes, but suspected he had a spare packet in his desk drawer.

Robin looked at her watch and realised the time.

"I think I need to be going now Cormoran. I have to think about the traffic and the cab getting to the train station at this time of day."

"Yeah, good thinking." Strike had now discarded his coat and was sitting in his office chair, raking through his drawers.

Robin went to retrieve her suitcase and extra holdall from the corner and placed them by the door. She then tidied away some files and items on her desk and walked slowly into Strike's office.

"Right, that's me off then. I'll see you on the 3rd January."

Strike stood up. "Well, I hope you have a great time. Enjoy the break, cos you know January will be busy with wall to wall divorce work."

"Of course, yeah, can't wait," said Robin rolling her eyes. "You enjoy yourself too. I know it's not your favourite time, but… y'know. Is it Lucy's you're going to?"

"Yes, Lucy's."

They stood awkwardly for a few moments. Sod it. "Listen, let's do this properly," said Robin eagerly.

She moved across the floor towards Strike and then leaned her head into his chest, snaking her arms around his torso and giving him a light squeeze. "Merry Christmas Cormoran." She then loosened her hold, reached up to give him a quick peck on his left cheek and looked into his eyes, smiling.

Strike had momentarily frozen. But without thinking, his hand had come up to rest on Robin's shoulder, right in her hair. "Merry Christmas Robin." He looked into her eyes, so warm and open and inviting. Fuck it. I just can't stop this. He started to lean down, his mouth preparing to capture those rosebud lips…..

RAP RAP RAP RAP came the sudden banging on the outer office door.

Robin jumped in fright. "Shit."

"Who... The... Fuck... Is... That?" asked Strike slowly and deliberately, his head pointing to the ceiling, eyes closed and his hand still entangled in Robin's hair.

"No idea."

"Leave it. I am not answering at this time on Christmas Eve," said Strike, almost in anger.

RAP RAP RAP RAP RAP RAP came the noise on the door even more persistently than before. Robin jumped again.

"Look, I'll get it. They'll see my suitcase and they'll surely get the message." Robin pulled away and made for the office door.

"Robin…" Strike called after her, a noticeable pleading tone in his voice.

"It's fine," she called back. "Probably just some courier or something."

Strike couldn't think of enough swear words to curse his bad luck, bad timing, bad karma, bad everything. Soon, he could hear an exchange of female voices and walked through to the outer office.

"Cormoran, erm, there's someone here to see you," said Robin in a soft voice.

Strike could already see who the unwelcome visitor was. He felt his heart fall to his feet. "Charlotte….."

Robin glanced from Strike to Charlotte and back again three times over. Nobody said a word for several seconds.

"Look, I, erm, I really need to go for my train Cormoran," said Robin picking up her bags. "Nice to meet you Charlotte. Have a good Christmas. Both of you. Erm, each of you," she quickly corrected. "Bye then."

Robin beat a hasty retreat out of the office, dragging her suitcase alongside and closing the door behind her. Strike was still rooted to the same spot, in shock, trying desperately to digest this bizarre turn of events.

"Bluey…."

"Hang on a minute, will you?" he asked, flustered.

Strike yanked open the outer office door and once again leaned over the stairwell. Robin's distinctive hair was only just visible at the bottom of the building.

"Robin….." he bellowed, but she was already gone. He then whispered to himself, "I don't fucking believe this."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Thanks for reading. I won't be around for a few weeks, so I hope you enjoy this.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx