And darling, if it's all the same to you
I'll have you to myself
Joining the Dots, Arctic Monkeys
For a few moments, time seemed to be standing still. Gazing at Cormoran, Robin was consumed by the glowing, overwhelming happiness that, yes, he had forgiven her. That he had come, after all that had happened, all this way to see her.
"What are you doing?" Matthew's furious voice interrupted her floating sense of timeless bliss. Ignoring her husband's infuriation she pondered.
Almost no time had passed since the crushing down of the flower arrangement and her becoming aware of Strike's sudden, dishevelled appearance. And the answering of the vicar's question.
What was she doing?
And then something shifted, jigsaw falling into place. Robin let the certainty of two truths, long suppressed, encompasse her: First, Strike was not just a friend to her, and second, he had not just come as a mere guest. This she knew.
She had witnessed his stubbornness, how he just let people go once he had decided to break with them. Even if he had never said it out loud, she perfectly knew that Strike wholeheartedly disapproved of her getting married to Matthew; because he disliked the accountant, because he knew that Robin could never truly be herself with him. Strike, however, would have never dared to say this to her face. He was far too respectful for that.
Memories of the past months flashed through her mind like flickering lights. Robin had seen his surly expression whenever she had turned up at the office tired after fighting with Matt the previous evening; she could still see his horrified face when she had told him about her fiancé's months of unfaithfulness; she now recalled in perfect clarity how Strike had tried to hide his anguish when she had shown up at the office after the bank holiday, engagement ring sparkling from her finger again.
Right from the start, Strike had pretended to like Matthew, when clearly he didn't – even after their first meeting in the Three Crowns, where Matt had been behaving like an arrogant sod, constantly talking about himself, preoccupied with showing off his best side. Back then, she had blamed Strike for making her think of Matt's behaviour as pompous and ignorant. How funny, she mused, that whenever she had seen a side in her fiancé she really did not like, she had always believed Strike responsible for a change in her perspective, when actually – and this dawned on Robin realised brutal honesty – she had then seen Matt for what he truly was: a pompous twit, only ever concerned about himself, about appearances.
Robin turned her gaze back to her new husband. She saw Matthew clearly now – possibly, for the first time.
Other memories were flooding her perception. She recalled how she had complained to her mother that no, Matt was not worried about her being sent a leg, even though he should have been; and no, he didn't want her to stop working because he was scared for her safety. But somebody else had been worried for her, had tried to keep her from working because he was terrified of losing her. Robin held her breath.
Either unaware, or perfectly unhinged by the sudden disturbance in the church that had created tension amongst the newly wedded couple, the vicar now reached for the rings, and continued, "Heavenly Father, by your blessing let these rings be to Robin Venetia and Matthew John a symbol of unending love and faithfulness, to remind them of the vow and covenant which they have made this day through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen."
"Amen," some in the crowd responded, while many were still looking at the infuriated groom and a happier, but entirely bewildered looking bride.
"You lied to me," Robin stated, looking Matthew in the eyes.
"What?" Matthew whispered back, furious, but panicked that somebody might have overheard her.
"You lied to me," she repeated in a calm voice "when you told me your phone was dead and you had to call your dad about the honeymoon. You never phoned your father."
"Do we have to talk about this now?", he murmured irritated, anxious for her to keep her voice down.
The officiant, finally aware that something out of the ordinary was going on, gave them both a quizzical look.
"Would you both like to follow me to the vestry?"
"Absolutely not!" Matthew hissed, very intent on ignoring Robin's inquiries in order to continue as if nothing happened.
Upset that he hadn't even considered her opinion, because she would have like it very much, in fact, to sort this out without an audience, Robin went on there and then. This was far too important, and she would not get sidelined by him again.
"And this wasn't the only thing you lied about. Strike didn't call to let me down easy. He wouldn't have come all this way just to tell me that he hired someone else!"
Finally, this elicited a reaction out of Matthew. "For heaven's sake, Robin – it's our wedding! Yet here we are, and you're talking about him again?" he hissed.
But Robin was having none of it. "So, you're not even denying lying to me about it? Manipulating me, controlling me to go along with what you think is best?" She couldn't stop herself now, voice slightly rising.
"No, Matt. This is not about Strike. It never was about Strike. This is about you not being able to support me, my wishes, my dreams. It's about you not accepting me, not loving me for who I am, or who I want to become."
Matthew just stood there, face red and angry, unable to think of anything to say.
Robin continued "This is horrible, and I truly wish I didn't have to come to this. But–" and she looked her almost–husband square in the face, squaring her shoulders "if you don't have any scruples about lying to me – on our wedding day even – to get me to do what you want; if you hate what I love–" she inhaled, anxious now, "how was this ever supposed to work?"
To this, Matthew had no answer. Turning to the vicar, she declared "I'm very sorry, father, but this ceremony cannot continue."
Robin felt a sense of elation that she had never felt before; an electrifying, liberating sensation that made her feel she could accomplish about everything right this instant, and she looked to the back of the church.
The agitated Strike, who had incredulously witnessed the altercation between bride and groom, captured Robin's blazing eyes and, in that moment, felt that never before had he been caught up by quite such a radiating, beautiful woman.