‘Of course, if it
‘Anyway,’ said Strike, remembering a little late that he wasn’t supposed to be encouraging his partner to focus on violence and depravity, but encouraging her to keep her mind on pleasanter matters, ‘go and eat cake and watch a film with your mother or something. That should keep her happy.’
‘She’s probably hidden my laptop while I’ve been talking to you. I’ll let you know if the police get back to me about Jacob.’
‘Do,’ said Strike, ‘but in the meantime—’
‘Doughnuts and romcoms,’ sighed Robin. ‘Yes, all right.’
Relieved by the prospect of getting back to the investigation on Monday, Robin took the lift back upstairs to her flat. In the sitting room she quietly closed her laptop, with the intention of resuming work once her parents were safely tucked into the sofa bed that evening, then accepted a fresh mug of tea and a chocolate éclair from her mother.
‘What did he want?’ Linda said, sitting herself down on the sofa.
‘To tell me to take it easy and eat cake, so he’d be happy about this,’ she added, indicating the éclair.
‘So Ryan’s coming home on—?’
‘Next Sunday, unless he gets an earlier flight,’ said Robin.
‘We do like Ryan,’ said Linda.
‘I’m glad,’ said Robin, pretending she hadn’t heard the unspoken
‘He’s been very good about keeping us updated,’ added Linda, again with a silent addendum:
‘No idea,’ lied Robin. Ryan had in fact made it perfectly clear he’d like children.
‘He always asks after Annabel,’ said Linda warmly, referring to Robin’s niece. ‘Actually – we’ve got news. Jenny’s pregnant again.’
‘Fantastic!’ said Robin, who liked her sister-in-law, but wondered why this information had so far been withheld from her.
‘And,’ said Linda, taking a deep breath. ‘
‘I didn’t even know he had a girlfriend,’ said Robin. Martin, who came immediately after her in birth order, was the only son who still lived with their parents, and had a patchy job history.
‘They’ve only been together three months,’ said Linda.
‘What’s she like?’
Linda and Michael looked at each other.
‘She likes a drink,’ said Michael.
‘She’s called Carmen,’ said Linda.
‘Is Martin pleased?’
‘We don’t really know,’ said Linda.
‘Might be the making of him,’ said Robin, who wasn’t convinced, but felt it was best to be optimistic in front of her parents.
‘That’s what I said,’ said Michael. ‘He’s talking about getting his HGV licence. Long-distance lorry driving, you know.’
‘Well, he’s always liked driving,’ said Robin, choosing not to mention the many near misses Martin had had, full of drink and bravado.
‘Like you,’ said her father, ‘with that advanced driving qualification.’
Robin had taken her advanced driving course in the months after the rape that had finished her university career, when command of a vehicle had given her back a sense of safety and control. Relieved to be offered a conversational topic that was neither children nor her career, Robin began to talk about the old Land Rover, and whether it would pass its next MOT.
The afternoon passed relatively peacefully because Robin found a documentary on TV which fortunately caught both her parents’ interest. Itching to return to her laptop but afraid of disturbing the precarious calm, Robin watched mindlessly until, with evening drawing in, she suggested a takeaway, and ordered a Deliveroo.
The pizzas had only just been delivered when the buzzer beside the flat door sounded.
‘Robin Ellacott?’ said a tinny male voice, when Robin pressed the intercom.
‘Yes?’
‘This is PC Blair Harding. Could we come in?’
‘Oh, yes, of course,’ said Robin, pressing the button to let them through the outer door downstairs.
‘What do the police want with you?’ said Linda, looking alarmed.
‘It’s OK,’ said Robin soothingly. ‘I’ve been waiting for this – I gave a statement about something I witnessed at Chapman Farm.’
‘What thing?’
‘Mum, it’s fine,’ said Robin, ‘it’s to do with someone who wasn’t getting proper medical attention. The police said they’d get back to me.’
