Page 134 of The Hallmarked Man (Cormoran Strike #8)

… forgive me! I abase—

Know myself mad and monstrous utterly

In all I did that moment; but as God

Gives me this knowledge—heart to feel and tongue

To testify—so be you gracious too!

Judge no man by the solitary work

Of—well, they do say and I can believe—

The devil in him…

Robert Browning The Inn Album, IV

At exactly the moment Robin heard Murphy’s key turn in the lock of the front door again, Strike called her mobile. She refused the call and waited, feeling sick, for Murphy to reappear in the sitting room, which he did seconds later, phone in one hand and a curry in his other.

‘Got you chicken Madras,’ he said, smiling and holding up the bag.

Then his eyes fell on the open water bottle Robin had positioned on the coffee table in front of her.

‘What’s that doing there?’

‘It spilled,’ said Robin. ‘In your sports bag.’

‘What were you doing rummaging in my—?’

‘It leaked out onto the floor,’ said Robin. ‘I was mopping it up when I realised what it was.’

She stared up at him, waiting, feeling strangely shivery, like someone in the early stages of flu.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. He looked at the bottle with its vodka dregs, back at Robin, then said,

‘I…’

Robin had imagined his possible reactions while waiting for him to return.

She’d wondered whether he’d try and pretend this was a one-off lapse, even that someone else had filled the bottle without his knowledge.

Life had taught her there were few limits on the lies desperate men were prepared to tell.

Murphy’s eyes filled with tears. He dropped the takeaway and sat down in an armchair, face in his hands, and began to sob. There was no question that his tears were genuine: he was making noises that were barely human; strangled, whooping wails, his whole body shaking.

Robin had never seen him cry before, but she offered no comfort. She wanted to hear what he had to say, how many more untruths he was prepared to tell.

At last, he began to talk in broken sentences, not looking at her, and still crying.

‘Those kids who were shot… I fucked up… it was all on me… I thought the eyewitness was bullshitting… went and arrested the wrong… it was all on me, I did it… I was sure the fucker had done it… I got rough with him… investigation… complaints…

‘I had a beer in the pub… just one… couldn’t stop… couldn’t fucking stop… you’re going to leave, aren’t you?’

He looked up at her, red-eyed, face wet.

‘You’ve gone on and on about honesty,’ whispered Robin, ‘and all this time , you’ve been drinking…’

‘Not all the time – I swear, not all the time, it’s been stop-start – I kept trying to – I’m going back to AA tomorrow. I’ll throw all the booze I’ve got out, you can watch me doing it.’

‘You’ve got more, in this flat?’ said Robin, testing to see what he’d say.

‘Yeah, in – in the wardrobe,’ said Murphy. ‘I’ll do it right now. Robin, you’re literally the best thing that happened to me, I’ll make this up to you—’

‘What about that night?’ she said. ‘The night I got pregnant?’

‘I wasn’t drunk then,’ he said quickly. ‘It started after that.’

She didn’t believe him. Getting up off the sofa, she went into his bedroom to fetch the overnight holdall she’d already packed, and her coat. When she returned, Murphy was on his feet.

‘Robin, I swear I’m going back to AA tomorrow, it’ll stop—’

‘I need… not to be here,’ said Robin, pulling her coat on. Her insides felt icy. For months now she’d felt guilty about lying to him by omission, while he’d been hiding this gigantic secret.

‘Is this it?’ he said, sounding panicked. ‘It’s over?’

‘I need some time,’ said Robin.

‘Do you love me?’

‘Yes,’ she said automatically.

‘The house—’

‘We need to withdraw the offer,’ said Robin. She’d thought that through as well, while he’d been picking up his phone from whichever pub or bar he’d been in, unless he really had gone to the gym and sat in the café, drinking neat vodka, pretending to be rehydrating after exercise.

‘No,’ said Murphy. ‘Robin, please—’

‘You need to focus on getting sober,’ said Robin. ‘We’re not adding moving house to everything else that’s going on. I’ll call you when I’ve—’

‘Decided how to break it to me gently that it’s over?’ said Murphy, starting to sob again. ‘Robin, don’t go. Please don’t leave. I swear, I’m going to clean up—’

‘I’ll talk to you tomorrow,’ said Robin. She shouldered her holdall and headed out of the front door.