Michael Ellacot was the first of Robin's family to enter the small kitchen, grunting a good morning as he shuffled to the refrigerator to heft the thawed turkey out, thudding it into the sink to begin the laborious process of Christmas dinner. Strike looked at Robin rather shiftily as he took his tea and settled at a far seat of the kitchen table so as not to be underfoot. With a hasty hug to her father, Robin wasted no time making herself useful by fetching the sprouts from the fridge and bringing them to the other sink basin to wash. She spared Strike a small smile as she turned to her father, picking back up a conversation thread from last night about an elderly neighbor who'd slipped and fallen down the church stairs. Strike let his mind slide out of focus as he sipped and enjoyed the attractive domestic picture of Robin in her native habitat. She moved smoothly through the familiar traditions of family, knowing her place and the routine of it all by heart. It was precisely this domesticity that his own mother had so conspicuously lacked. He had no fond memories of Leda washing sprouts for Christmas, although he never held this against her. She lived outside the mundane realm of household tasks and Christmas fond memories of Christmas tradition he had were because of Ted and Joan- who treated the holidays with scrupulous deference that bordered obsession. Although Robin never seemed particularly sentimental about things like holidays, he also imagined that she would be the type of person who knew how long to cook a turkey without looking it up. He appreciated her for little things like this.
After a few minutes Martin came yawning into the kitchen scratching himself unashamedly and with another yawn he flipped the kettle on to boil and began rummaging for food. He prized open a metal tin on the counter and extracted a ginger biscuit and, sighing heavily, collapsed into a chair looking completely at ease. Catching sight of Strike, a slow knowing smile spread across his face making Strike feel oddly uneasy.
"How was the pub?" said Martin in a deep morning voice.
"Not bad," said strike clam-like.
He wondered if Martin knew something? His mind raced through the circumstances of last night and he found to his horror that the answer to that question was very likely a yes. If years of surveillance had taught him anything it was that if something happened in public, it could be found out. He glanced at Robin as she pulled her hair back into an effortlessly attractive bun at the base of her neck. Fuck. He thought suddenly.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He was a love-sick idiot. Unlike a cozy London pub with the anonymity of strangers as protection, Robin's local was likely full of people who'd known her since birth. Shouldn't the fact that Matthew and Sarah were there have been a clue? Well, thought Strike bleakly- Martin may know something but that didn't necessarily mean that anyone else did. He wouldn't make it easy for him but, as he now had personal experience to attest to the fact that Robin's brother was not above making a scene for his own enjoyment, he wasn't sure that Martin could be deterred. Strike looked at his phone and decided that his best shot at avoiding further scrutiny was to leave.
"'Scuse me," said Strike, abandoning his sheep mug as he grabbed his cell phone and headed for the front door with the idea that he might go outside and call Ted and wish him a merry Christmas. He pulled on his coat doing his best to ignore Martin's subtle smile as he opened the door to the brisk winter morning. He wished suddenly for a real cigarette instead of the slim electronic vape pen he kept in the inside pocket of his coat. He walked quickly away from the house to sit himself on the low slush covered wall at the edge of the Ellacot's front garden. Clamping the vape between his lips he took a long drag of nicotine and looked down the tidy street with neat stone houses and reflected that the Dales village was quite picturesque, frosted with wet snow as it now was. He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Lucy's number. A few rings and he heard Lucy's breathless voice on the other end of the line
"Hi, Corm!" behind her, the sounds of a noisy disagreement could be heard.
"Sounds like the Boys are having a good time in Germany." Said Strike, trying to pretend the sound of arguing could be mistaken for sounds of joy.
"It's been great! Our BnB has a beautiful view of the Alps" she said with enthusiasm, "Yesterday we went up in a cable car. You should've seen Ted- I don't think he likes heights."
"No, I don't 'spose he does," said Strike with a chuckle, "He's more of a seaman, I think."
"He nearly threw up. Had to keep his eyes closed for most of it." laughed Lucy.
Strike did not hear the faint clunk of the front door behind him as a coatless Robin padded her way down the walk toward him.
"Are you making a turkey?" asked Strike curiously as Robin stopped a foot behind him, frowning at him with slight concern.
"Everything alright, Cormoran?" asked Robin. Strike spun about with a start, and on the other end of the line Lucy's reply faltered.
"Well we…. Wait… is that Robin?" Came Lucy's Voice from the end of the line. Robin continued to watch Strike carefully.
"Errr…" Said strike to no one in particular.
"I thought you said she was going to be in Masham with her family this year?" said Lucy sharply.
"ah…" said strike again to no one in particular. He felt precariously close to danger.
"Who is it?" Said Robin Curiously, now noticing the color rising in his cheeks.
"It's Lucy." Said strike honestly. Robin's mouth silently formed on an 'oh' that never came out as the situation became suddenly clear to her. She grimaced apologetically at Strike who shrugged in return.
"Give her the phone Corm, I want to talk to her." demanded Lucy. With a sigh that admitted defeat, he hesitated and then passed the phone to Robin, returning her grimace. "She wants to talk to you."
"umm… hello?" said Robin awkwardly.
"Robin!" exclaimed Lucy excitedly, "How's Christmas?"
"It's….fine." Said Robin, panic beginning to rise in her.
"How's your family?" said Lucy, probing, "when do you get back to London?"
"Umm good…" replied Robin, alarmed at the assumption that She, and therefore Strike, were not currently in London- as, in her opinion, would be the decent assumption. She hesitated, then seeing no way around the admission, replied "We're back in London tomorrow."
Strike raised his eyebrows at Robin, surprised she'd admitted this.
"Well, you'll have to drag Corm over to ours soon so that he can collect his presents. Incidentally, I got something for you too." Said Lucy who now sounded full of Christmas spirit.
"Oh, thank you... I will." said Robin, her color now rising too. She could think of no response just now, but thankfully Lucy spared her the need by saying,
"Hugs, Robin! I'm going to have to ring off in a minute but I want to speak to Corm again before I go."
"Ok, sure" said Robin, handing the phone back to strike with a shrug, mouthing, 'I'm sorry" as she did so.
Lucy began talking as soon as Strike put the phone back up to his ear.
"You know, you could have just told me the truth." she said, no trace of anger in her voice "I promise not to make a big deal out of this- Consider it your Christmas gift. Fair warning though, I am going to tell Ted. He'll be absolutely chuffed about it. He loves Robin"
"Thanks Luce," said Strike, who knew that his lack of dispute amounted to an admission. Without thinking he added, "I know, me too."
He could almost hear Lucy's eyebrows raise at this, but good as her word, she said nothing.
"Love you Corm, Merry Christmas."
"You too Luce." said Strike, ending the call at last.
The silence stretched on for a minute as both Robin and Strike looked at each other in stunned silence.
"Well that was…." Robin trailed off, unable to put her finger on what exactly it was.
"An accident?" Strike finished for her, a nervous laugh now escaping him, "look Robin, I also think you should know that I suspect Martin may know something about the pub last night."
"...wait, really?" said Robin looking dismayed, "how do you know that? Did he say something."
"Not exactly," said Strike, "it was more the way he asked how my night was."
"Shit" Robin Groaned loudly, "We're supposed to be bloody detectives, how did we not think of this?"
Try as he might, Strike couldn't find it in himself to feel too upset about it. He'd spent too many tormented nights wishing for these problems to give much credence to any short term discomfort that they were now causing. He tried, somewhat unsuccessfully, to flatten his smile for her sake anyway.
"Why are you smiling?" She said, eyeing him critically.
"I'm not." He said failing still further at not smiling.
"You most definitely are." She said sharply.
Strike gave up and grinned broadly at her,
"Look, I know the timing is a bit shite," he said earnestly, "but they're all going to know eventually."
"It's not really how I'd have had them find out" Robin said, arms folded.
"I know." He said, taking her hand and pulling her sideways out of view of the family home, "But it's a little late now to cover our tracks."
"I'm a little surprised that you're not the one losing it" she said looking up a him, "this seems like your territory"
He slid his hand gently around her waist as he pulled her closer.
"Mmmhmm" he said distractedly, placing a kiss lightly on the top of her head absorbing the smell and sensation of her. "I'd have thought that too- but it turns out I could actually give a fuck about who knows- as long as you do."
She smiled as he lifted her chin and let his lips fall to hers. It was a little disconcerting how comforting it was to be kissed like this. It wasn't driven and lusty as the ones before had been. It was communication. It told her that to him, it was all irrelevant. A kiss to tell her he only really cared if it was important to her. How she knew all this, she couldn't say, but she sighed as they broke apart, resting her head on his chest. Her anxiety eased as she swayed gently on the spot.
"Thanks, Cormoran," she said quietly.
"Let's go back, I'm hungry." He said as his stomach growled, "and I need a piss."
Robin laughed as they made their way back across the garden to the house, but steeled herself nonetheless for what was doubtlessly going to be a Christmas to remember.