‘She had quite the rep at work, I hear.’

Robin really wasn’t in any mood to hear what a wonderful detective Kim had been, so she changed the subject to US president-elect Donald Trump’s latest public pronouncements on the subject of whether or not he’d pursue the imprisonment of his defeated opponent, Hillary Clinton. There was one thing to be said for Trump’s shock election triumph, thought Robin: it always gave you something to talk about, if you wanted to avoid other, trickier, subjects.

After they’d finished eating, Murphy took the cutlery through to the kitchen and washed them up, instructing Robin to remain where she was, then returned with coffees. Seeing his tentative expression as he sat down again, Robin felt a prickle of dread.

‘So… how’re you feeling about…?’

‘I told you, a lot better. I’ll definitely be good to go back to work on Wednesday.’

‘I didn’t mean physically.’

Robin, who’d known exactly what Murphy had meant, said,

‘Well, I’m glad to be out of hospital, obviously… Mum just called me, by the way. They had to put Rowntree down. His liver packed up.’

‘Shit,’ said Murphy. ‘I’m sorry.’

Robin, who’d mentioned Rowntree’s death purely to change the subject, found herself temporarily unable to speak. Her throat had contracted and she was afraid she was going to cry, not least because she could tell Murphy wasn’t going to be deflected from what he really wanted to talk about.

‘Can’t we discuss it?’ he said quietly.

‘Discuss what?’ Robin said with difficulty.

‘What the doctor said.’

‘I told you, I’ve restarted the pill.’

‘No, not that. About freezing your eggs.’

‘I haven’t thought about it,’ said Robin.

‘Don’t you think it might be a good idea? To be on the safe side?’

‘What safe side?’ said Robin, her voice suddenly ragged. ‘I’ve looked up what it involves. You have to be pumped full of hormones and go under a general anaesthetic, and sometimes you have to do it multiple times, if they don’t get enough eggs, or they aren’t viable.’

‘Why wouldn’t they be viable? You’re only thirty-two.’

Shocked by her own anger, Robin was avoiding eye contact again. Don’t cry.

‘I feel like you’re blaming me,’ said Murphy.

‘I’m not blaming you, I just – you’re talking about egg freezing as though it’s nipping down to the shops. It isn’t. It’s invasive and time intensive, I might need time off work—’

‘Can you not forget about work for two minutes?’

‘That’s rich coming from you! You’ve been working round the clock lately!’

‘I’m sorry I’ve left you alone today – d’you think I wanted to? You were the one who didn’t want your parents to know!’

‘This isn’t about being left alone, I’m fine on my own, I’m just pointing out it’s apparently OK for you to put work first, but not me!’

‘That’s different, I’ve got to do what I do—’

‘Someone put a gun to your head and made you join the police, did they?’

‘Come on, you know what I mean!’

‘Yes, that my work’s so trivial it doesn’t matter if I don’t turn—’

‘I never said it was trivial!’

‘You want me to “forget about work”. Well, I don’t want to forget about it. I happen to love my work, and I’m also damn good at it,’ Robin added, in a shaking voice.

‘Bloody hell, I know you are! I’m just asking you to put yourself first for a bit!’

‘No, you’re asking me to put my eggs first. My eggs and I are not the same thing.’

A silence followed.

‘I’m trying to tell you,’ said Murphy, at last, ‘that if you want to do the egg thing, I’d support you through it, I’d be with you—’

‘What d’you mean “with me”? Will you have to be prodded and poked and fiddled about with, Ryan? Will you have to have things inserted inside you, and swallow drugs, and suffer any pain or discomfort at all?’

‘No,’ said Murphy, looking unnerved.

‘We’ve never talked about children,’ said Robin. ‘You’ve never even asked if I want them.’

‘I assumed – you like kids. Your niece, your god-kids—’

‘I do like them, I love them, of course I do. That’s not the – look,’ said Robin, still fighting tears she was determined not to shed, ‘this isn’t the way I ever wanted to have this conversation, but if you’re asking, I don’t know whether I want kids of my own, OK? But even if I don’t, it wasn’t easy – having that surgeon – tell me – out of the blue – that that fucking rapist did this to me and – no!

Murphy, who’d risen to hug her, recoiled.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Robin. ‘I’m still sore. I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t apologise.’

Murphy dropped to his knees beside the sofa and reached for her hand instead.

‘What can I do?’ he said humbly.

‘Stop bitching about my work, and Strike, and the agency,’ said Robin angrily, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. ‘I’ve had enough of that from Matthew and my bloody mother. Nobody’s trying to show anyone up, we’re just trying to find out whether we can help that woman. She’s just given birth to her boyfriend’s baby and doesn’t know where he’s gone. It must be awful.’

‘I’ll stop bitching,’ said Murphy quietly. ‘I was being a dick. What can I do to make you feel better? Name it. Ice cream? Weekend in Paris?’

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