‘I’ll bet you were. Like what you see?’
‘What’s that supposed—?’
‘Eyeing up the competition? You were
‘As I wasn’t competing, that’s neither—’
‘D’you know what she called you?’
‘I really couldn’t care le—’
‘“PP”,’ said Valentine. ‘Want to know what that stands for?’
‘I think we’re done here,’ said Robin, but with execrable timing, the waitress now returned and put a plate of spaghetti in front of her.
‘Thank you,’ muttered Robin.
‘Parmesan?’
‘No, thank you.’
The waitress walked away.
‘I think we’re done,’ Robin repeated to Valentine, but he didn’t move.
‘If Corporal Brokeby had come to me with that “what if Fleetwood’s killed himself?” bullshit he pulled on Sacha, I’d’ve given him what he deserves,’ said Valentine. ‘He wants to talk suicide, I’m more than fucking ready to talk suicide.’
‘Well, you had your chance,’ said Robin, ‘and you refused to speak to him.’
‘It’s on him Charlotte’s dead.’
‘It isn’t,’ said Robin.
‘He fucking
‘They split up six years before she did it.’
‘That’s what he told you, is it?’
Robin felt a creeping sensation in her stomach. Had Strike hidden that, too? Had he continued to meet Charlotte, and sleep with her, through those years he’d pretended they’d split up?’
‘PP stands for the pit pony,’ said Valentine remorselessly. ‘Cormoran Strike’s scruffy little Yorkshire helper.’
‘Charming,’ said Robin. ‘If you’ve quite—’
‘He screwed around when he was supposed to be with her, he knocked her about, and she still fucking loved him, and the night she died, he said stuff to her—’
‘My information is, he didn’t pick up the phone,’ said Robin.
‘Then you need a better source of fucking information,’ said Valentine.
He got to his feet, looking down at her.
‘You
He strode away, jacket over his shoulder, swearing at a woman who was too slow to move aside from the door.
63
A. E. Housman
Robin didn’t have the slightest appetite for her spaghetti now. Just as she was thinking of calling the waitress over to say she’d like the bill, her mobile rang for a third time. Seeing her mother was calling again, she took a deep breath, put a finger in her free ear to block out the noise of the restaurant, and answered.
‘Hi Mum, sorry I didn’t answer earlier, I was on a job. Is everything OK?’
‘Carmen’s had the baby,’ said Linda.
‘Wait – what? I thought she wasn’t due ’til—’
‘He’s a month early,’ said Linda, ‘and it was a bad birth, and they think there’s something wrong.’
A chill ran through Robin.
‘With the baby?’
‘Yes,’ said Linda. ‘We’re waiting to hear, we’re at the hospital.’
‘What—?’
‘He’s not moving an arm properly or something, I don’t know, nobody’s giving us full information. They think it’s a birth injury, torn nerves, or – nobody seems to know.’
‘Oh no,’ said Robin, who felt completely helpless. ‘I – what can I do?’
‘Nothing, nothing, I just needed to let you kn – Robin, that’s the doctor – I’ll call you back.’
She hung up.
‘Everything all right with your spaghetti?’ said the young waitress, reappearing at the table.
‘Fine,’ said Robin, looking up. ‘Could I have the bill, please?’
‘Are you sure there’s nothing—?’
‘No, please – please just get me the bill.’
Five minutes later, Robin emerged into the icy night, and set off in the direction of the nearest station. Finally, unable to bear her anxiety alone, she tugged off her gloves and called Ilsa.
‘Hi, how’re you?’ said the latter, answering on the third ring.
‘I’m really sorry to do this to you again, Ilsa, I just need to talk to someone. Well, to you.’
‘Why? What’s wrong?’
‘I – my brother’s girlfriend’s just had her baby a month early, and there’s something wrong with him, I just heard—’
‘Oh no, Robin, I’m so sorry—’
‘It’s not that, I can’t do anything about that tonight,’ said Robin distractedly. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t care about this right now, but Ilsa, I just need to know, was Strike violent to Charlotte Campbell?’
‘
‘I just met a man called Valentine Longcaster, and—’
‘
‘It’s complicated,’ said Robin. ‘Anyway, he told me Strike knocked Charlotte around, and Ilsa, if he did—’
‘Did he hell,’ said Ilsa.