Page 278 of The Hallmarked Man

‘Great. This is fantastic, by the way.’

‘Good,’ said Robin, sitting down opposite him.

‘So, did you find out how Dirk is?’

‘Wh – oh, my nephew? Yes,’ said Robin, who had indeed calledher mother on the way to the supermarket that afternoon. ‘They’re happy with him. They’re still hopeful his palsy thing will clear up.’

‘What was the issue?’

‘It was a difficult birth,’ said Robin. A lump seemed to have lodged in her throat again.You’ve been left with quite a lot of damage…She took another swig of wine. ‘His nerves were torn, and he was premature, as well.’The embryo couldn’t get past the scarring, you see…

‘Smaller than the eleven-pounder, then?’

‘Much,’ said Robin with difficulty, remembering the bumpy ride on the gurney, and the icy feeling of the ultrasound wand.

Strike took another large mouthful of spaghetti. Notwithstanding the throbbing of his face and leg, he knew that the moment was fast approaching when he was going to tell her he loved her. What was required now was a bit of easy conversation, hopefully involving a few laughs, and more wine, to loosen inhibitions. He might initiate a bit of subtle probing about the state of her relationship with Murphy, and then…

‘So, from what you’ve seen, would you fancy living on Sark?’ he asked.

‘I don’t know,’ said Robin, who was having difficulty dispelling thoughts of Murphy’s text, and finding it hard to swallow her pasta, because of the lump in her throat. ‘It’s very pretty.’

‘I thought we’d see more horses.’

‘They probably only get the carts out in summer,’ said Robin. ‘For tourists.’

‘Yeah. I’d be all right if they let me have my own tractor, but—’

Strike suddenly realised, to his great consternation, that Robin was crying, though trying to conceal the fact. He swallowed hastily.

‘What’ve I—?’

‘It’s nothing, it’s not you,’ said Robin in a high-pitched voice. She got to her feet, stumbled towards the kitchen roll and tore off a few sheets. ‘Ignore me, just ignore me, I’m sorry.’

‘Why—?’

‘It’s n-nothing,’ said Robin again, leaning up against the side, but she couldn’t stop crying.

‘Don’t give me that, what—?’

‘I… lost a baby.’

‘What?’ said Strike, horror-struck.

Unable to keep it in any longer, unable to pretend, unable to copealone with the burden of her own confusion and guilt, Robin blundered back to the table, sat down, and told the short and brutal story of her accidental pregnancy, through sobs.

‘Shit,’ said Strike. ‘I’m… sorry.’

He had no idea what else to say. He didn’t know what this meant, for Robin or for her relationship, didn’t know whether she was mourning the loss of the child, whether she’d wanted the baby. He watched helplessly as Robin fought unsuccessfully to regain control of herself.

‘I don’t know why I’m so – ohGod.’

Unable to stop herself crying, she slumped forwards on the table, just as Danny de Leon had done earlier, face hidden in her arms, her hair falling into her plate of spaghetti. Her loyalty to Murphy mingled with her conflicted feelings about the text he’d just sent her, and she was battling a powerful urge to let out the things she hadn’t dared say to any other human being.

Strike could think of nothing to do except reach across the table and lay a large hand on her shoulder while she cried. He’d rarely been at such a loss, or so afraid of saying the wrong thing.

‘Did you… want it?’

‘No,’ said Robin, her voice halfway between a squeak and a moan. ‘It was a complete accident. I didn’t even know – until it was all – all over… oh God, I’m sorry…’