Strike felt an immediate and savage pleasure at the sight of Matthew and Sarah in the corner of the small yorkshire pub. Matthew appeared drawn, depressed and his smooth young face was showing the slight creases around the corners of his mouth that denoted prolonged stress. Sarah on the other hand, sat with her arms folded looking bored and over made-up, rolling the ankle of her crossed leg with ill-disguised impatience. Robin, who was busy shrugging her coat off her shoulders, had not seen the couple in the corner of the small pub. Although it had been many months since it seemed to strike she had been able to speak of Matthew and Sarah with ease and had even gone so far as to make light of her disastrous first marriage, Strike doubted that she would have willingly ventured out for christmas eve drinks if she'd known the drinks would be had in the same room as her ex and his new wife. Strike looked at her wordlessly, and looked meaningfully over her shoulder causing her head to swivel, taking in the small pub around them.

Blank shock registered on her face, followed by a slow rising color that diffused her face with a delicate blanche, that despite revealing her emotion, was flattering to her pale skin.

Deftly, Strike placed a hand on the small of her back and guided her silently to a small table in the opposite corner of the cramped space. Strike prided himself on being adept at reading the emotions of others, however, Robin, whose emotional states he was always most interested in, was hardest for him to read. For a woman of ease and good humor she was more stoic than most, a fact that was both a cause of gratitude and consternation to him. At the moment, he knew her well enough to recognize the swell of emotion that was rising in his partner but was not absolutely certain what emotion was its source. Was it anger? embarrassment? Fear? Or worst of all Regret?

"You alright?" he said quietly

"Fucker.." she muttered with some poison.

Definitely angry then, he thought, suppressing a small quirk at the corner of his happened to agree with her. Matthew WAS a fucker, and so was Sarah. He'd thought it of the former for years, and the latter as soon as Robin had introduced them at their housewarming party. Both of them were the sort that wanted six figure salaries, dreamed of beige walled houses and had a respectable 2.5 children– and then went on to sleep with other people's spouses. They really made quite a perfect couple, complimenting each other in both duplicity and misery.

"Cheer up, Ellacott. He looks fucking miserable." Strike said,leaning back in his chair to eye the bar, "Like He exchanged tiramisu for a turd."

An unwilling snort of laughter escaped her. He did look unhappy, she had to admit. Robin, who had known Matthew intimately as long as she'd been an adult, recognized his dissatisfied pout, which she had always found childish and petty, as well as weariness that was a new addition to the smoothly handsome man she'd married.

Robin was lost in the turmoil of her thoughts and therefore jumped slightly as Strike clapped her gently on the shoulder as he pushed up from the table to weave through the crowded space to the worn mahogany bar. Robin spared a glance at his retreating back feeling oddly exposed. His presence always buoyed her courage. However, an irritated part of her thought that a gentleman may have turned her around at the door upon seeing her ex and his new wife. It seemed to Robin however, that Strike was deriving some pleasure from seeing Matthew and Sarah in the flesh post-divorce. A small part of her brain not devoted to bitter recollection wondered at this.

The fact that Strike had agreed to spend his Christmas in Masham was odd enough, but the circumstances of her partner's invitation to the family festivities was still more mystifying.

After some polite inquiry about her partner's holiday plans by her mother the week prior, Robin had revealed that Strike had no plans to speak of. He told Robin that his sister Lucy and her husband Greg had decided to take their uncle Ted on a trip to Bavaria for Christmas rather than facing the prospect of a Christmas in Cornwall without Joan. Robin knew that Joan had been not only Lucy's chosen mother, but she had also been the heart of every Christmas for as long as Strike could remember. The expressed reason for not traveling with his family was, of course, work. The unexpressed reason, Robin knew, was that he would not suffer two thirds of his nephews for a long evening much less a long weekend- the exception of course was Jack (The only one of Strike's nephews that he didn't secretly regard as a tiny arsehole).

To assuage her irritation at him, Strike had untruthfully told Lucy that he would be having christmas dinner with his close friends Nick and Ilsa Herbert. It was true that Nick and Ilsa had indeed invited him to their small christmas party, but Strike declined quickly saying quite truthfully that he did not want to gate crash their first christmas as new parents. Robin found this reason quite thoughtful, although- she had not expressed that to him.

Strike was not the sort of man who felt unduly sad about the prospect of a Christmas spent in solitude. He had suffered far worse christmas' both as a child in the care of his vagabond mother or with the mercurial and vindictive beauty that was his ex, Charlotte. Despite this, Robin's mother had insisted that she offer Strike a place in their home and at their table over the holiday.
"It's the christian thing to do" she had said, as though she were speaking about feeding the homeless or giving shoes to a tramp.

Robin had agreed to convey the invitation, certain that Strike would decline it. Except he didn't decline. To her wide eyed amazement,he had agreed so quickly she was certain that he was taking the piss. Her shock deepened when he asked for details and even asked if he should look for a hotel for the weekend.

Robin assumed her mother Linda had some ulterior motives to inviting the lame legged detective to the family home in Masham, and even suspected that her mother was simply curious to know him properly as he now seemed a permanent fixture in her daughter's life. Robin still maintained to her mother that they were, "just friends" even going so far as to say were "very good friends" but always careful to add "and colleagues" as if to dispel any impression of them being friends for the sake of being friends. She worked hard not even to admit to herself how she really felt about her partner.