Chapter Twenty-seven

They've been texting during the evening, but the newlyweds aren't again within arm's reach of each other until late that evening. They just hold each other for several seconds, and then Strike says, "Thanks, I needed that."

Robin laughs and releases him, saying, "You sound so sincere."

"I am," pouts Strike. "I've been worried about you."

"I'm sorry, darling, but I told you that I was fine."

"But I couldn't quite believe it until now. Did you get anything out of Mrs. Goldberg? That was a brilliant idea, talking your way into their house while I was with her husband."

She's not upset, so Robin is smiling slightly as she teases, "Apparently, not worried enough to stop thinking about the case."

As he starts unpacking the bag of takeaway Chinese food, Strike claims, "Hey, you wouldn't have me any other way."

With a laugh of pure joy, Robin concedes, "True." As she watches the feast unfold, she says, "Thanks for this; I'm starving. Mrs. Goldberg had already eaten, so I made do with tea and a biscuit. You got this from Newlyn?"

"Yeah. I've never been before, but it's quite nice."

"Isn't everywhere in Cornwall nice?"

With a grin, Strike accuses, "Now you sound like a tourist. Everywhere has problems, including Cornwall."

Remembering an article she'd read recently, about shocking mistreatment of clients in a Cornish care home, Robin asks, "Can we make visiting Ted a priority when we get back?"

"Of course." With such a solemn subject now on their minds, they're quiet as they decant the food onto plates—sharing everything—until Strike says, "You didn't answer me."

Understanding what he means, Robin says, "Obviously, I couldn't ask any targeted questions, given our cover story, but we bonded over husbands who spend too much time at the pub and too little time on chores." At the narrowing of his eyes, she grins and apologises "Undercover," before continuing, "Her name is Valerie, and she knows how to hold a grudge. She still hasn't forgiven Robbie for tramping mud through her house in the middle of the night the one time he visited."

About to eat, Strike pauses with a forkful of food on the way to his mouth, and asks, "Father's Day weekend, 2011?"

"Exactly. Guess the city boy didn't know to remove his boots at the door. They'd had rain all that day."

His heart beating faster with hope that they've found another clue, Strike nevertheless argues, "He could have picked up the mud from their driveway."

Robin shakes her head, saying, "Melvin is good at his job; the driveway and yard behind their house is sealed, including the carport where they must have parked."

Genuinely impressed, Strike asks, "How the hell do you know that? You visited after dark."

With a smug grin, Robin reveals, "The outside light was on, presumably for Melvin. And I'm a country girl; unless you're selling something, it's polite to use the side or back door."

Remembering that visitors to Joan would hardly ever use the front door, Strike says, "I think I knew that. Rob, you're a fucking genius." She responds to this with only a wide grin and starts eating. Having remembered an earlier conversation, Strike asks, "Was it Matthew who suggested you're flaky?"

Robin's expression hardens, and she swallows before saying, "Yes. In his defence, I'd just told him that I was leaving him."

"There is no defence for such a manipulative lie. Any time you're okay with me punching him, just say the word."

That makes her laugh, and Robin reveals, "Martin beat you to it. Matt began our ill-fated marriage with a bloodied nose."

"Broken?"

"Not quite."

Strike shrugs and says, "Shame."

Robin laughs again and reveals, "Well, Marty was three sheets to the wind, and probably seeing at least two Matts, so he did well to connect at all."

Strike chuckles and says, "Good for him." They eat in silence for a while, until he asks, "Was that about Matthew deleting my messages from your phone?"

"Yes, and clearly should have been the end of our relationship, but I don't want to talk about that. We've both done stupid stuff, and I'd rather focus on the present." Resting a hand on her still flat belly, Robin adds, "And maybe the future."

His expression wary, Strike asks, "Does that mean I'm forgiven?" At Robin's obvious confusion, he reminds her, "You were pondering recompense."

"Oh, I totally forgot about that, sorry." And then Robin waves away his concerns, saying, "Don't worry about it, Oxford. Like I said, we've both made mistakes."

"Not sure I deserve such leniency, but I'll take it. Thank you."

They eat in silence for a while, and then Robin asks, "Did you get anything useful out of Mr. Goldberg?"

"Not a fucking thing, and I paid for his drinks. Oh, except Ned Rogers' details, for Wardle. I pretended that we might be interested in that old place. If the cops can get permission from the owners, they won't need a warrant."

Nervous about saying it, Robin nevertheless reveals, "You know, nightmares and bedwetting aside, I'm actually enjoying myself. This is much more fun than my first honeymoon."

Strike erupts in laughter and says, "I certainly hope so." They again focus on the meal for a while, until he says, "I think Ilsa was right."

Robin smiles and guesses, "That us as a couple might just work?"

"Yeah. You know me better than anyone ever has, and you still want to be with me." It's almost a question when Strike continues, "And I'm beginning to think that I'm good for you too."

"Darling, I've said as much."

Strike shrugs and says, "But you understand that believing you and accepting the truth don't always happen at the same time."

"Yes, I understand. I love you, Cormoran."

He beams at her and says, "You don't often call me that. Not a complaint. I like whatever name you choose, because it always sounds better from your lips."

Strike watches, fascinated, as desire sparks in Robin's eyes and slowly fades. She eats some more and then asks, "What does it mean 'three sheets to the wind'?"

Amused at the subject change, he explains, "On a boat, the ropes are called 'sheets'. They should always be taut, to make best use of the available breeze. If they're loose enough to flap in the wind, you won't have any control over your craft."

"That certainly sounds like Marty when he's drunk." After another mouthful of food, Robin comments, "I've never been sailing."

"Is that a hint?"

"Not particularly, but I'd probably enjoy it with you. Does Ted still have his boat?"

"It's the Jowanet, meaning 'Joan'. He'd never sell it."

Silenced by this quiet revelation, Robin eventually says, "Perhaps not then."

Reaching out to touch her arm in reassurance, Strike says, "No, it's fine. I'm sure he'd love knowing that it's being used." Tapping his metal shin against the similar table leg—the sound ringing in the small room—he adds, "Though you'd have to be first mate; the old girl is a bit much for me to handle nowadays."

Appeased by his jocular tone, Robin says, "Okay, if you're sure. Sounds like fun."

"You understand, it would mean doing precisely what I say, when I say it?" Strike has managed to keep his smile contained, but the twinkle in his eyes confirms that he finds the idea amusing.

"Don't I always do as you say?" Claims Robin, without even a hint of humour.

"No."

They stare at each other for several seconds, and it's Robin who breaks first, laughing long and loud before saying, "Yeah, okay, but I will be an obedient first mate, Captain."

"Oh, I like that."

"You just said that you like anything I call you."

"True. But say my name again."

Smiling, Robing obliges, "Cormoran." And then she laughs at his beatific expression as, eyes closed, he savours the sound of the word. And then she adds, "I love you."

When his eyes open, the love shining from them stops her next breath, until she's released by him saying, "I'm beginning to suspect that's the truth too."

With her mum running interference, and covertly supplying mocktails, Robin manages to avoid questions about her abstinence from alcohol during the rowdy wedding reception/birthday party at the Victory Inn the next night. Ilsa claimed to be angry at the couple for getting married in secret, but her fury manifested itself in hugs and happy tears, and one punch to Strike's arm, which only made him laugh and hug her again.

At some point in the evening, a cry of "Speech" goes up, and quickly builds to a chant that fills the main room. Strike is amused to find that he's suddenly holding a cordless microphone, and sees the proprietor retreating with a wink. Reaching out his other hand for Robin, he waits until she's by his side and a hush has fallen over the crowd before switching on the mic and saying, "Thank you all for coming, especially as a few of you have come such a long way." Gazing down at Robin, he continues, "I know some of you feel cheated that we got married without you, but you shouldn't, because I'm happy. I'm not sure I even knew what happy was before now. They call it falling in love, but it felt more like sinking to me, as if I'd blundered into a massive maelstrom from which there was no escape, only I didn't notice at first because the current was so gentle. Don't think I didn't try to break free when I realised, but it was too late; I was already drowning. Still, I struggled for years against feeling anything but friendship for Rob, because I worried...oh, fuck, I barely remember what I was so afraid of. Because, the simple truth is, if I'd known it would feel this good to marry my best friend, I would have surrendered without a fight." Robin is smiling up at him with unshed tears in her eyes when he concludes, "Robin, you're the best person I know. Every moment we're together convinces me that you're the best person I'll ever know. I'm proud to be your husband, and grateful to be your friend. I love you."

When he bends down, she meets him halfway, and a cacophony of celebration shatters the quiet. The noise settles down when he ends the kiss and hands the microphone to a nervous Robin. She clears her throat, laughs when the sound is amplified, and then begins, "What he said." When the laughter soon dies down, she continues, "It really was similar for me. Falling in love with Strike happened so gradually that I think other people knew it before we did."

"Everyone knew it," loudly proclaims Ilsa, to more laughter.

Robin smiles and says, "Apparently. I'm trying to think what I love about Strike. I mean, there's loads of things: he's honourable, brave, smart, considerate, loyal...seriously, I could go on forever. But there's one image in my mind that best explains why I agreed to marry him; whenever we're walking together, he always adjusts his pace so that we're side by side." Looking up at her husband, she concludes, "And this is where I want to be for the rest of my life, by your side."