‘Please could you send it to me?’ said Robin, as a beeping in her ear told her she had a call waiting.
‘Will do,’ said Pat, and she rang off, leaving Robin to check the screen of her mobile. When she saw Murphy’s name, she had a strange sense of foreboding. Sure enough, when she answered, his first words were:
‘We’ve been fucking gazumped.’
‘What?’
‘Some bastard’s offered the seller another five grand. The estate agent’s just called me.’
‘Oh, shit,’ said Robin.
But she was shocked by the relief that had just washed over her.
‘You don’t sound exactly upset,’ said Murphy.
‘Of course I’m upset, but I’m in the middle of Selfridges, Ryan, I can’t burst into tears without attracting attention,’ said Robin quietly, while Mrs Two-Times tried on a pair of emerald green stilettos. ‘What’s the estate agent’s advice?’
‘Offer more, obviously.’
‘OK, well – d’you want to? Or shall we look for something el—?’
‘I don’t fancy another twelve months of this. I’ve had to virtually drag you just to see three bloody houses.’
‘That isn’t true,’ said Robin, taken aback by his sudden aggression, and certain he was pushing for an argument to vent his frustration about the gazumping. ‘I like this one, I was the one who argued for getting it, remember?’
‘But you’re happy to let it go and keep looking.’
‘I’m not
‘What’s the end game, finish up with something even smaller?’
‘I haven’t got an “end game”, I’d just rather we didn’t bankrupt—’
‘Well, it’s not like you need to save for a new car, now Strike’s bought you a Land—’
‘
‘I’m not—’
‘Oh,
‘That’s in your head, not mine!’
‘Don’t gaslight me, Ryan, I’m not a fool. I’ve got to go.’
She hung up.
A few minutes later, Murphy called her back. Robin didn’t pick up, because she was still feeling anxious and upset, not only about this fresh burst of temper from Murphy, but by her own feeling of relief, which she knew was telling her something that she’d been suppressing and denying ever since she’d first agreed to move in with him.
For the second time in a few days, Robin imagined fleeing somewhere warm and light, where she’d have space to decide what she really wanted. Distance, she felt, might give her perspective; unfamiliar surroundings might jolt her out of this pattern of agreeing because she felt she ought to agree, because when you said ‘I love you’, certain obligations ensued. She reminded herself yet again about how kind and considerate Murphy had been after the ectopic pregnancy, and following her long stay at Chapman Farm, not to mention how open and upfront he’d been in the discussion about children. She thought – knew – she loved him, but when he phoned her a third time, she let him go to voicemail again.
Robin handed over surveillance of Mrs Two-Times to Midge at four o’clock, then set out for the garage where the new Land Rover was parked, because she was supposed to be taking over from Strike, who was watching the house in Carnival Street where Plug Junior had received his dog bites, and which Plug Senior was currently visiting. She’d just put the key in the ignition when a text arrived from Murphy.
Seeing as you’re not answering my calls, I’m texting. This isn’t how I wanted Valentine’s Day to go. I hoped you’d be as disappointed as I was about being gazumped, but you didn’t sound it, that’s all I was saying. I said the thing about small places because we both like a bit of space. It wasn’t anything to do with kids.
You talked about me having an ‘end game’. What ‘end game’? I don’t appreciate the remark about the car, either. I’d have thought you’d be glad I didn’t have to lay out thousands of my own money when we’re trying to buy a house together, but any chance to drag Strike into an argument, you take it.