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Chapter 3

And I know love leads to pain
But memories serve our sweetest refrain.
- Ed Sheeran: Life Goes On

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Strike stood still by Robin's side while she finalised her order with the florist. Against his own will, he couldn't stop mulling over his friend's choice of flowers for the funeral - white Stargazer Lilies…

As they walked out of the small shop, crammed with flowers and greenery of all kinds and colours, his head was spinning - partially from the heady mix of various scents bombarding his nostrils from every direction and partially from a specific memory involving the same lilies Robin had just ordered. A memory that he would have rather erased from his troubled mind.

He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he only acknowledged Robin's presence when her hand landed on his forearm, making him stop walking just as they had reached her Land Rover, parked up on the curb of a quiet side road.

"Are you all right?" she asked, puzzled but also curious.
"Yeah, I just…" Strike replied, and laughed, shaking his head, still bewildered. He finally cast a confused look at her. "White Stargazer Lilies…"
Robin sighed. "I should have known you'd remember," she remarked, wincing. "It was Mum's wish. The white ones are often used at funerals, you know?"
"It's fine, I just…" Strike couldn't shake off the memory of Robin hating the very same flowers he had given her on one of her birthdays - out of sheer desperation to get a last-minute present because of course, he had forgotten about her special day again.
"I get it," he said with a deep frown, suddenly feeling ashamed. "Getting funeral flowers on your birthday is not exactly a sign of friendly affection."

Robin couldn't help but feel sorry for him and smiled.
"It wasn't…" she sighed, exasperated. Her eyes wandered about the empty street before settling on his face again.
Oh, sod it; I might as well tell him…

"The main reason why I was so annoyed when you gave them to me was that they reminded me of Sarah bloody Shadlock," she said, rolling her eyes. "She gave them to me and Matthew at our housewarming party. There, you can stop being upset."
She threw her hands in the air and exhaled louder than she intended. A small apologetic smile appeared on her face, followed by a shrug.

Strike's frown still lingered above his deep blue eyes that held a curiosity she found difficult to ignore. It said There's more to it.
"What was the other reason?" he wanted to know with the relentlessness of the shrewd investigator that he was. They had torn down a lot of barriers between them over the last few months, and he wasn't as afraid to ask about something so personal anymore. He was hungry for her thoughts.
Robin swallowed hard, lowering her eyes, suddenly unable to bear the intensity of his piercing gaze.
"It was nothing, just… I knew you had forgotten again that it was my birthday, and that's fine, some people don't remember their friend's birthdays and-"
"Best friend," Strike interrupted her.
"What?" Robin was startled.
"You're my best friend," he corrected her with an insistent tone.

Robin found herself with her mouth open, staring at him. He sounded almost offended that she would have omitted such an important detail. She managed to find her words then.
"Yes, I know… Anyway… I was just… I don't know… really angry and disappointed because I thought…."
Strike's frown and his narrowed eyes were willing her to continue. Her fingers were absent-mindedly playing with the zipper on her jacket, and she felt like one of their clients, hiding something important from them that could change the course of the investigation.
"I thought you didn't care about me," she blurted eventually, closing her eyes for a moment, then letting out a heavy, shaky breath.

When she opened her eyes again, she could barely contain a gasp. In an instant, Strike's expression had changed into disbelief and something resembling sorrow.
"How could you ever think that?" His question was simple, but the pain in his quiet voice was raw and cut deep. "After all we'd been through up 'till then?"

The truth was, Robin didn't know the answer for sure.
Miscommunication? Better said, the lack of any regarding anything personal between us? she thought immediately. But if so, it wasn't entirely his fault if she was fair.

"I don't know… I guess we didn't talk that much about… such things back then… I'm sorry…" she concluded after some struggle and dared to look into his eyes. Suddenly, she felt her old insecurities and fears creeping back into her mind, pushing the strong and brave Robin Ellacott temporarily into a dark corner.

Strike knew he would be crossing the line again, but he couldn't care less at that moment. With one fluent move, he gathered her in his arms and held her tightly. There was a strong sense of protectiveness and urgency in his hold. Robin instinctively wrapped her arms around his waist, releasing a long sigh of relief.
"Never, do you hear me?" Strike whispered into her ear after lowering his head. His timber baritone voice sent shivers down her spine. "Never again think that I don't care about you!"

There was so much more he wished to say, his heart shouting the same three words over and over again into the silence stretching between them, but this wasn't the right time to say them out loud. And yet, he wished, oh, he wished… so badly that his chest hurt more than his whole body after the explosion that had torn half of his leg off.

"I know now," Robin spoke softly, her breath warming the place close to his heart where her head rested. He could swear he felt it even through the thick layer of his coat and the sweater underneath.
"Good," he replied, his lips dangerously close to the small, exposed bit of her neck as he breathed in the scent of her skin, instantly thrown back to the memory of their hug at her wedding. Back then, she smelt of roses. Now, she smelt very lightly of musk and bruised flowers. And then he remembered the impossibly soft feel of her lips on his cheek...
"Try to remember that for the future," Strike added after he swallowed hard. "Just as I'll try to remember setting a fucking reminder about your birthday on my phone for a month in advance so that Pat doesn't have to shove it in my face on the day."

She laughed into his chest, breaking the intensity between them.
You made it up for me the following year, she thought, her smile slightly fading as she remembered the less-than-satisfactory ending of her birthday celebration at The Ritz that night. She wouldn't remind him of that, though…

In the confines of Robin's embrace, Strike finally felt relaxed and comfortable again. Maybe too comfortable…Reluctantly, he pulled back to look at her, his arms still around her, although not as tightly anymore.
"You don't have to do that," Robin said, a gentle smile back on her face. "It's all right; nobody's perfect."
He knitted his eyebrows, feigning hurt. "How dare you ruin it, Ellacott? I'm trying fucking hard here!"

Robin laughed even more, her head falling on his chest again. She couldn't help but tighten her hold on him, even if just for a little longer.
"You didn't forget my last one," she remarked with a wide smile, hidden from his view.
"Guess my brain had temporarily reached its limit for screwing up. But well, you know me…" Strike replied, amused.
"Yep, I do." She chuckled, suddenly feeling proud that it was true.

Robin finally pulled back, and after one more look into his eyes, she slowly released him, reaching into her pocket for the car keys. Strike saw it as a cue they would be on their way again and walked around the Landy to get to his seat, still smiling and mildly dazed from the scent of her skin lingering in his memory.

"Strike…" her voice stopped him in his tracks, and he lifted his head, meeting her eyes across the Rover's roof. "Thank you… for understanding, for… everything. It means a lot to me."
The familiar wide, lopsided smile reached his eyes. "The feeling is mutual."

With a beaming smile and a heart beating at a rate that could easily rival Ussain Bolt in his best form, Robin entered her battered, beloved Landy and sat down next to her equally battered and beloved best friend, whose grin didn't disappear for a good while after they had set out on the journey back to the Ellacotts' house.

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Robin entered the large kitchen, walking over to join her mother. Her arm went around Linda's shoulders, and she pressed a peck on her cheek.
"Hey," she said quietly. "We're back."
Linda's smile was tired as she patted Robin's arm, leaning a little into her for a moment.
"We've got everything sorted as you wanted," the younger woman continued softly. "The flowers will be there in the morning on the day."
"Thank you, darling," Linda replied, genuinely grateful.

Robin watched her work for a while. Linda was dusting icing sugar over the apple pie she baked while Robin and Strike were in town. She was quite generous with the sweet, snowy layer, and her daughter contemplated remarking something about catching up on all the chocolate bars she had missed out on before her ill-fated wedding but then thought the better of it. She knew her mother well, and she knew that Linda would do anything but sit and stare into nothing now that her world had fallen apart so unexpectedly. Robin herself knew how devastating shutting oneself off from the world could be, having lived through her own trauma years back. Whatever made her mother go through the day, she would let her do it, watchfully standing by. A little, insistent voice in the back of her mind asked her What about you? but she chased it away, as many times in the previous three days, and opened the nearest cupboard.

"Tea?" she asked, glancing at her mother, who had turned on the sink tap and started washing up after her baking. Even after years, she refused to use the dishwasher one of her sons had installed in her large, rustic kitchen.
"No, thank you, dear. Stephen made me one just a little while ago," Linda replied with a grateful smile.

Robin took out two mugs and popped a teabag in each, for her and Strike. Although the end of March was near, the whole of Yorkshire was mercilessly tested by bone-chilling weather, and after their outing in the gloomy morning, both detectives craved something warm.

"I must admit, he's actually really… nice. Really nice," Linda remarked suddenly, smiling into the sink while waiting until Robin filled the kettle. "There is something very pleasant about him."

Robin almost dropped the kettle, but didn't look at her mother. There was no need to ask who he was. She moved away from the sink and turned the kettle on, resting her hands against the worktop while waiting for the water to boil.

"I didn't really get round to talking to him at the wedding. His manners are not at all what I had imagined." Linda paused again as Robin gave her what reminded her of a look of annoyance over one's favourite pet being insulted. "I mean… I didn't really know what to expect as you never really talked about him as a... man."
"There was never a proper chance," Robin said, more settled again. "And Matt's stupid jealousy and arrogance when badmouthing him everywhere didn't help either." Her voice was coloured with bitterness.

"Matthew was never a good judge of character or the most tactful man if I'm honest," Linda admitted, bemused.
Why did you want me to marry him then for so long? Robin couldn't help but ask in her mind. However, she decided not to comment on the biggest mistake of her life – willingly wasting a year of her life in a marriage which most of the time, had brought nothing but misery upon her.
"In truth, I've always assumed that there was a bit more under that rough exterior, even after that dinner disaster with Jonathan back then," Linda continued about Strike. "I knew you could never respect and be friends with someone rude and arrogant."

Robin remembered that fateful evening at her back-then housemate Max. All it was supposed to be was Strike giving Max some information about the army, at the aspiring actor's request. All it turned out to be was Strike getting drunk before he had even arrived, venting his frustration from what preceded the dinner on Jonathan and his friends, and making Robin very upset.

"He had already come drunk to the dinner," Robin explained. "His biological father called him that night and told him he had cancer… They've been estranged all his life. It just threw him off-balance." She let her mother digest the information before continuing.

"I know that people who don't know him closer think he's rough around the edges, and he definitely has his flaws but…" Robin paused, exhaling, as she stopped stirring the tea in the mug and looked absently out of the window. She couldn't suppress a gentle smile.~
"He's incredibly kind, empathic, decent and honest… His commitment to the job is so inspiring… Cormoran's like a dog you throw a bone at. He chases it wherever it falls until he gets it, even if he has to run for days to find it. And he's bloody clever; he's an excellent people reader." She chuckled and glanced at Linda. "He'd figure you out before you could figure out yourself."

Linda's eyes lit up with fondness as she observed her daughter with unmasked interest while Robin continued.
"Did I tell you that he almost killed me on the staircase when I first arrived at the office?" She snorted. "It was an accident, but his reflex was so quick that he probably saved my life." Her voice softened. "I've never trusted any man in my life as much as I trust Cormoran. When I'm with him, I feel…" A long pause caused by a firework of emotions exploding in Robin's heart. "Safe... and valued."

Suddenly aware of herself, she flashed a smile at her mother and returned to finishing the teas.

Despite the grief she was living through since her husband had passed away, Linda couldn't stop smiling, her eyes lingering on her only daughter.
"You should be careful," she said when resuming her own work at the kitchen sink.
"Why?" Robin shot her a curious look.
Linda turned off the tap again, and while drying her hands in the kitchen towel, she looked at her daughter and stated the obvious fact.
"Because in case you're trying not to, you might reveal more than you are willing to admit to yourself. And what's more," Linda added, smiling, "to him."

Robin stared at her mother with an unnerving feeling that in a single unguarded moment, she had exposed her heart to its bare core. She swallowed hard. A quick smile was all she could manage to mask her embarrassment before averting her eyes to pick up the two cups of tea and go back to the living room. Suddenly, she heard her mother add one more observation, stopping her at the door.

"He's stronger than one would assume with his handicap."
Robin's look was puzzled.
"I can't imagine it being easy to carry an extra load up those stairs with his leg," Linda added with a knowing smile.

It suddenly dawned on her… Only now, Robin stopped to think why she never wondered how she made it to bed the night before. They were sitting at the fireplace… A vague memory of someone lifting her appeared in her mind, its contours faint. The feeling of safety and warmth stepped forward immediately, though, refusing to be overlooked. Strike…
She didn't know whether to kick herself or revel in the fact that he would risk an injury to his leg for her well-being. He could have just woken her up and told her to go to sleep, but he didn't. Somewhere deep inside, a blossom of something started opening up, hope for something she had been dreaming of but never believed could be true…

"I'll bring the pie," Linda said softly, failing to wipe the smile off her face. The warm look in her eyes rested on her daughter, who was visibly struggling to keep her emotions at bay.
"OK," Robin replied barely audibly and left the kitchen.

What she didn't know, though, was that just as she turned away from the kitchen counter, prepared to leave, Cormoran Strike moved away from the shadow of the kitchen door, where he was out of sight, and hasted back to the living room to resume his place on the sofa. He didn't intend to eavesdrop. All he wanted was to ask for a glass of water, but suddenly his body refused to move when he caught the conversation topic between mother and daughter.

Robin also didn't know about the smile that softened his features and the exhilaration that made him suddenly feel like he could run a marathon, even with a metal leg.

※※※

Strike took the last sip of his tea, then looked at the page of the photo album he had just turned. He was sitting next to Robin on one of the sofas in the spacious living room, which reminded him of the pictures he saw in the Country Life magazine he browsed through while waiting for his medical appointment once. They were facing Linda and Robin's older brothers Stephen and Martin, sitting on the sofa opposite them and browsing through a similar album in Linda's hands. Jonathan was sitting on the floor next to his mother, his legs stretched out and his head leaning against the sofa's armrest.

"Oh, this was in Cayton Bay, the first holiday we went to taking the Land Rover," Linda said fondly. "Jonathan had just turned four."
"Oh God, is this the one where I won the children's Fancy Costume contest?" Stephen asked, embarrassed and frowning.
Martin grinned. "If you mean the one with you dressed up as Tin Man from The Wizard of Oz and Mum wrapped you in tin foil from head to toe, then yes, that's the one."
"Jesus, remind me never to mention that to Annabel," his brother remarked, embarrassed even more. "I had enough of Jenny laughing her tits off at it."
"Don't worry, bro," Jonathan joined the conversation. "That wasn't the most embarrassing costume you've ever had on. Remember the Baywatch outfit – those way too small trunks were smashing."

He laughed as a cushion landed on his head where Stephen threw it. Robin shook her head, a fond smile settling on her face. She paused to think about how much she loved her brothers, with all their flaws, pulling her leg time and time again, and joking about her divorced or single status, sometimes to the extent it was driving her crazy. All in all, there was an undercurrent of genuine care between all of the Ellacott siblings, instilled by their parents ever since they were born. Whenever things got rough for any of them, there was always someone on guard, ready to soften the blow.

Strike watched the emotions play on Robin's face as she was lost in her thoughts. He didn't want to stare but caught himself moved by her soft, almost vulnerable expression, and a gentle smile tugged on his lips. Strangely, he didn't feel out of place sharing the space with the Ellacotts. He liked the sense of humour Robin's brothers shared; their exchange reminded him of his friends Nick, Ilsa and Shanker. Maybe that's why he felt an unexpected wave of belonging, which he was trying not to get used to. He knew he was there only for a few days and once the funeral was over, he would be back in London, sitting in his small attic flat alone, only with his memories.
But Robin will be back too…

After a few seconds, he forced himself to look away from Robin, only to meet Linda's eyes. Judging by her smile, his musing didn't go unnoticed.

"Did you ever dress up?" Strike asked Robin then, trying to sound casual.
Robin snapped back to reality as she registered his question.
"Oh… yeah, but nothing special," she answered, not keen on elaborating when she remembered her costumes as a child, which were even more ridiculous than her brother's.
"Come on, can't be that bad," Strike teased her, raising his eyebrows.

Damnit, Strike, why do you always have to catch me out?

"Come on, Rob, I already humiliated myself," Stephen challenged his sister, smiling.
She rolled her eyes and sighed, unable to suppress a smile, though, noticing Strike's curious expression.
"Sporty Spice," she said then, shaking her head. Seeing the puzzled look on her friend's face, she elaborated more. "One of the Spice Girls, the most popular girl group of the 90s."
Strike's mouth twitched with amusement. "I know who they are." He chuckled at her amazed expression – an interest in pop culture was certainly not something she connected her partner with. "It's just… I see you more like Scary Spice."

The brothers laughed as the mischief in his eyes broke Robin – she grinned and playfully punched him into his arm.
"Good one, Cormoran," Martin acknowledged, still grinning. "Trust me, she looked scary."
"I was eleven," Robin interjected, mildly annoyed. "And I had to improvise since somebody…" She pointed at Martin. "- forgot to put the bag with my tracksuit that I wanted to use into the Landy."

The sombre atmosphere was lifted, even if just for a while, and everyone appreciated it, especially Linda. A feeling of warmth spread in her chest as she watched the friendly interaction of her family. Family… She suddenly realised there was one person who was not a family member, and yet…

Her eyes landed on Strike again, seeing the gentle expression on his face as he watched Robin when he listened to something she was explaining to him while pointing at some photo in the album in his lap. He wasn't family on paper, but seeing the way Robin subconsciously leaned closer to him, her arm brushing his for a lingering moment, he might as well have been. His bulky, rough frame perfectly fit around Robin's slender, feminine one. They looked almost like two puzzle pieces, shaped in a completely different way, and still fitting together perfectly…

Strike turned over another page in the album. His eyes fell on a photo with Skegness, 29th of July 1990 written underneath. Its colours were slightly faded, but the image was clear, and he felt a slow, soft smile growing on his face at the sight of a sweet little girl with blond braids, proudly sitting on a black donkey.
"Noddy?" he asked, casting a knowing look at Robin.
She let out a quiet gasp caused by utter amazement.
"Bloody hell, Strike! How come you…?"
"Yeah, I've heard I have quite a good memory," Strike cut her off, amused at her stunned face. "For some things, at least," he added.

Did she really think he could ever forget their conversation on the Skegness beach? It was one of his most treasured memories - a time when they allowed themselves to dive into much more personal territory, including some of their childhood memories.

"Yes, Noddy…" Robin replied eventually, smiling and still amazed that he remembered something so… insignificant about her. "And I won the race that day," she added proudly.
"Never doubted you," Strike replied, admiring the photo again. He was strangely thrilled, suddenly not feeling like a stranger on a visit to his friend's house. It almost felt like he was a part of her memories, a part of her.

His eyes then dropped to the photo below, in which Robin was still sitting on Noddy, but a tall, handsome man with a pleasant, calm face was standing next to them, smiling proudly. Robin's father…

It wasn't the first photo Strike had seen of Michael Ellacott that day, but all the same, he glanced sideways at Robin to see her reaction. With the sight of each photo of her father, her face grew more melancholic. Even the light jokes she threw in between couldn't have changed that. Strike watched the tension in her building as the time progressed, although she was trying extremely hard to hide it. He expected this reaction from the start; grief needs time and, above all, space to manifest itself, and he had yet to see Robin buckle under its weight. He marvelled at her mental strength, he always had, but especially in this, highly personal matter, Strike couldn't help but think that his best friend was the strongest woman, no… person he had ever known.

Robin interrupted his musings as she suddenly stood up and started collecting the empty tea mugs from the coffee table.
"I'll help you," Linda said immediately.
"It's fine, Mum. I've got this. More tea, anyone?" Robin's voice was unnaturally high-pitched, and her smile forced. When everyone politely refused the offer, she collected the tray and walked away, aiming for the kitchen.

Strike wasn't fooled for a second.
"Excuse me," he said, a hint of a frown on his face, and raised himself to follow his partner.
As he entered the kitchen, he saw Robin furiously scrubbing one of the mugs under running water. She was applying so much pressure to it that Strike worried it might break in her hands and cut her. But she seemed completely oblivious to the danger. Her jaw was tight, her mouth drawn into a thin line, and her eyes pinned to the mug in her hands.

Strike slowly, as not to startle her, walked toward her, and once he stood by her side, he covered her fast-moving hands with his large one, stilling her, though he noticed her hands were shaking. With his free hand, he turned the water tap off. Robin didn't flinch, but she didn't dare look at him. The irrational fear of her true emotional state being exposed to anyone, especially to her partner, gripped her with its iron fist.

"Accepting help won't make you any weaker," Strike said quietly but firmly, his eyes focusing on her face.
"I know that," she managed to reply with a weak, strained voice, her chest heaving now.
"Robin, you can't keep trying to do everything by yourself and shutting your pain under lock and key," he pressed on. "I've been there. I know how it feels, and it's a fucking scary place to be in." He paused. "Let me help you."
He slowly pulled his hand away and waited for her response.

She hesitated for a moment but then turned on her heel and hurriedly left the house through the back door leading into the garden.

Strike's frown deepened, and with a heavy sigh, he followed her out.
The late afternoon was veiled in dark, thick clouds gathered in the sky, sucking all colours out of the world and covering everything with angry shades of grey.
A storm was coming.

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