Chapter Seven

When Strike calls Pat, she greets him, "On your way back, then?"

"Not quite. We'll probably be a few days at least. How are things there?"

"Oh, we're managing. There're reporters at the door every morning, but they're getting no joy from me."

"Thanks, Pat. And I'm sorry about that."

"Not your fault. Oh, there's been flowers coming in too. I saved the cards, but the smell was givin' me an 'eadache. Timothy took photos and scanned them onto the computer."

"Flowers? Because of my mum?"

"Yeah. The biggest bunch was from your dad."

Never easily able to discuss Jonny Rokeby, Strike changes the subject, "Do you mean Timothy as in Herbert?"

"The one you call 'Spanner', yeah. He said you offered him a job."

"Uh, not exactly. I said I'd have to check with Robin first. She's okayed it, but where the fuck did you put him, on the roof?"

Pat hacks her smoker's laugh, and says, "Don't worry, we made room. And I gotta go; new client."

He's about to ask for details when she hangs up. At the look on his face, Robin asks, "Problem?"

"Not sure. I don't think so. But it might have been a bit reckless to leave Pat in charge."

Robin smiles and says, "You know it wasn't, though I wouldn't be at all surprised if she's got a new computer when we get back. Hers is practically an antique."

"Not hers, ours, and it was all I could afford at the time. Besides, it still does the job. Oh, Spanner is now working for us, presumably from the landing."

Robin laughs and suggests, "Guess we're not having any more staff meetings in the office."

"I guess not. And there are floral tributes rolling in, because of Mum."

That wipes the smile from Robin's face, and she says, "Oh. You okay about that?"

Strike shrugs, saying, "I think so, but mind if I catch up with you? I want to make sure Lucy is okay. Reporters are at the office, so they might be hassling her too."

"Of course." She kisses him and grabs her handbag, adding, "Say hello for me."

"Will do." She's almost to the door of their hotel room when he remembers, "Hat."

She spins on her heel and retrieves the sunhat she'd bought only yesterday, saying, "Thanks. I'm already a little well done after yesterday." She blows him a kiss and concludes, "Later, partner."

When she's gone, he shakes his head, marvelling that they've been together barely a month and yet, when Robin leaves the room, it's as if a part of him goes with her. He calls his sister, and she answers, "Stick! Are you back?"

"Not yet. Just checking in. Apparently, there are reporters at the agency, so I thought they might be giving you a hard time."

"Oh, thanks. They tried, but soon gave up, especially when Jeff and Switch gave interviews. I see they've stolen your limelight."

Not a clue to what she's referring, Strike merely says, "They're welcome to it."

"Yeah. How's Australia?"

He and Robin still hardly leave their hotel room unless working, but he doubts Lucy will ever want details of his sex life, so he says, "Good. I dipped my toes in the Pacific Ocean, and walked the solar system."

"Sorry?"

He chuckles and says, "I'll send you the photos. How are Greg and the boys?"

"Good. Greg's busy, and the boys are already dropping hints about what they want for Christmas."

"Well, we're about to close a big case, so get them to drop a few hints my way; Jack already has my number."

"You okay, Stick?"

"Yeah. Why?"

"You're acting so, I dunno...normal."

Strike barks a laugh and guesses, "As opposed to a grumpy bastard?"

"Well, yeah, quite frankly. Is it Robin's influence?"

Grinning, he jokes, "Nah, can't be that. Must be all this sunshine."

Lucy laughs and say, "That must be it; magic Australian sunshine. All right, I gotta go make sure the boys actually brush their teeth, instead of just gargling toothpaste. Thanks for the call, Stick. Give my love to Robin."

Strike had forgotten all about the time difference in his haste to make sure his sister is okay, and breathes a sigh of relief that it worked out. "Will do. Talk soon."

Remembering in time the keycard to their room, he heads to the cemetery, and soon spots Robin when she stands up from squatting before a grave. She sees him and waves. When he's closer, she points out the relatively new headstone, bearing the name "Arthur Ponsford" and the message, "I'll be seeing you."

Robin is staring at the engraved words, and comments, "Sweet, don't you think?"

"From the song, I presume." And then Strike notes, "Fairly fresh flowers."

"Yeah. I think we've either just missed their annual pilgrimage, or they visit regularly."

Strike puts an arm around Robin's shoulders, though he doesn't know why he feels the need, and says, "Let's hope it's the latter. You took a photo?"

Robin leans against him, saying, "Yep. Already sent it to Rose, with our sympathies. It's sad that her quest ended like this."

And then Strike understands that he sensed she needed comfort. "Perhaps not quite the end. Someone cares enough to put wildflowers on his grave."

"True." Then straightening out of his embrace, Robin asks, "Fancy a walk?"

"Sure. You okay?"

"I will be. Cemeteries always make me sad."

He takes her hand and follows where she leads, saying, "Funny, they make me hungry."

She laughs and reminds him, "Everything makes you hungry."

"True. It's not as hot today. Why don't we buy some fish and chips for lunch, and eat them by the water?"

Smiling, Robin asks, "Is this one of your weird food rules, that nothing eaten on holiday is fattening?"

Delighted that his attempts to cheer her up are working, he says, "I'm pretty sure that's everybody's rule."

Robin clutches his arm with both hands, and says, "You might be right. I love you, Strike."

"Good, because I'd look pretty foolish loving you if you didn't."

They walk in a comfortable silence for a while, and then Robin asks, "What would you put on your gravestone?"

Despite having cheated death quite a few times, it's not something Strike has ever considered. So it takes him a few seconds to come up with, "Dunno. I suppose something like, 'Here lies most of one lucky fucker.'"

Robin laughs and says, "Very you. I like it."

"What about you?"

"Depends. Are you visiting my grave with fresh flowers?"

"In the unlikely event that I outlive you, I'll be visiting your grave with fresh tears." That stops Robin in her tracks, and she bestows upon him a long, tender kiss before resting in his embrace, until he's moved to ask, "Awright, Rob?"

She looks up at him with shining happy eyes, and says, "Yes, but I think we'll postpone lunch, it that's okay?"

Recognising her desire, Strike grins and says, "That's my other holiday rule; the sex is better."

Robin giggles and says, "So far, yes. And I think that I'll go with Pooh."

Poo? When it comes to sex, Strike will try just about anything the woman wants, but faecal matter doesn't appeal at all. "Sorry?"

Robin laughs loud at his horrified expression and explains, "Winnie the Pooh, for my epitaph."

"Oh. Phew. Which quote?"

Smiling up at him, Robin reveals, "I knew when I met you an adventure was going to happen." He's not quite quick enough hiding his smile, and she asks, "What?"

Strike starts guiding them back to the lodge, as he says, "If I tell you that's not A. A. Milne, will we still have sex?"

"Oh, it's not?"

"The original quote is about Winnie the Pooh seeing Christopher Robin putting on his boots, and that's what signifies a big adventure."

They walk in silence for a few seconds, with Strike hoping he hasn't blown it by being a know-it-all; wouldn't be the first time. And then Robin shrugs, saying, "Guess I'll instead go with 'Oh, bother.'"

Strike chortles at that, unable to stop himself, and then says, "Actually, I've changed my mind. I'm gonna go with wise old philosopher Tigger."

"Oh?"

Strike stops their progress and slips his arms around Robin's waist, relishing that she automatically slides her arms up over his shoulders to welcome his kiss. And then he quotes, "I've found someone just like me. I thought I was the only one of them."

That evening, Robin emerges from the bathroom to find Strike watching something on his laptop, headphones in place. His dark scowl suggests that it's not a cartoon, so she asks, "Everything okay?"

He removes the headphones and tosses them onto the table, explaining, "Lucy said something about Whitehall and Whittaker giving a statement to the press, so I checked it out. Looks like a full-blown father and son reunion with both claiming they worked out separately who killed Mum but were too scared to speak up, which is bullshit, at least on Whittaker's part. What the fuck is Whitehall playing at now? He can't seriously want anything to do with that desiccated vestige of a human being."

His mood noticeably improves when he finally looks at Robin, to see that she's wearing only a towel. And she comments, "To be honest, I'm surprised Whittaker is still alive."

Strike gestures to the computer screen, saying, "Just barely. It's like a fucking Dorian Grey snapshot."

Robin peers over his shoulder, to see Stephen Whitehall looking like a mournful model, and his father looking like what he is, a 47-year-old man who has consumed more drugs than the human body was made to withstand. Yet the family resemblance is still there. "You're right; that's disturbing. It's like that 'Faces of Meth' anti-drug campaign. But at least it means the press have better things to do than hang around Denmark Street."

Strike reaches behind him to draw Robin close for a kiss, and then says, "True. Rose will be here in a few days, and then we can go home...assuming my flat isn't already Spanner's office."

Robin laughs, and says, "I don't think Pat would go that far."

"You didn't hear her on the phone. I only worked it out later; she was nice to me."

Bringing her palms to her cheeks in mock horror, Robin teases, "Oh, God, no wonder you're scared."

He glares at her, saying, "I'm not joking. She's never nice to me."

"No point worrying about it. We can't do much from here."

"I could put a stop on all our accounts."

"But you won't, because you know she'll do what's best for the agency."

Strike grumbles a protest, but doesn't argue, because she's right. When she moves away, he swivels in his chair so that he can keep her in view, and asks, "Not that I'm complaining, but what's with the outfit?"

By then, Robin has retrieved her hairbrush from her handbag, and shows it in explanation. Walking back to the bathroom, she says, "And don't look at me like that. We just had sex. You'll have to at least feed me before the next round."

He chuckles, saying, "Fair enough. Downstairs or in town?"

From the bathroom, Robin says, "Town. If your leg is okay with more walking?"

"So far, so good. Might let you take the first shift tomorrow though, just to give it a rest."

"Can do. Oh, I meant to ask if you want Barry to look into it for us? He probably has contacts on the mainland that would help."

Strike misses knowing how and where to ferret for information, and who to bribe with favours when he doesn't, but he says, "No. He seems discreet, but the fewer people who know the better. Both men have living descendants, and I don't want to make life difficult for them."

Robin now emerges fully dressed, which seems like a magic trick, even though she's chosen a sundress. And she says, "You're a good man, Cormoran Strike." On seeing his smirk, she asks, "What?"

"As you said that, I was wondering if you've bothered with knickers, considering how quickly you got dressed."

She slips her shoes on and picks up her handbag, saying, "You'll just have to wait until later to solve that mystery."