Page 338 of The Hallmarked Man

‘I ’ate fuckin’ advice, an’ all. That’s why I don’t like Danni’s fuckin’ ’usband. Keeps givin’ me ’is PR perspective, then saying “that’s for free, Jonny”. One of these days I’m gonna ask ’im ’ow much ’e charges to keep ’is fuckin’ mouf shut. I was only gonna say, all that counts, in the end, is if you’re wiv a good person. I learned that the ’ard way. An’ there ain’t as many good people around as you fink. Notpropergood.’

For a moment, Strike was transported back to Ted’s wake, and Polworth raising his pint to the ceiling.Proper man, Ted.

‘Don’t let Robin go, if that’s what you want,’ said Rokeby. ‘Life’s too fuckin’ short.’

The mobile on the table rang and he picked it up.

‘Denholm,’ said Rokeby, passing Strike the phone again.

‘Strike here,’ said the detective.

‘I’ve informed the paper you can provide cast-iron proof you’re not the father,’ said the upper-class voice on the end of the phone.

‘I’ll send it to you now.’

‘No need, he took me at my word,’ said Denholm, ‘which he knows from experience is the wisest, cheapest course. I’ve also told them you never slept with the woman and will take legal action if you’re named. On the other matter, the journalist is going to be spoken to before they decide whether to back down. I gather Culpepper insisted the woman’s story was genuine, but, by the amount of blustering I’ve just heard, I think his superior might have had suspicions at the time. I’ve made it clear, of course, that the damages you’re owed will be mounting for every day they refuse to make an apology, given the harm done to your reputation, and consequences for your livelihood.’

‘Thank you,’ said Strike. ‘I want you to bill me for this. Not my father.’

‘I’m not cheap,’ said Denholm, sounding faintly amused.

‘Sounds as though damages might help cover the bill.’

‘They should,’ agreed Denholm. ‘I’ll be back in touch once I’ve got their decision on the Candy girl, but the baby story is definitely quashed. Withdrawn from the website and a hasty reprint is underway.’

For the second time in as many weeks, Strike felt a wave of almost dizzying relief. He handed Rokeby back his phone.

‘’E sorted it?’

‘Yeah,’ said Strike.

‘An’ what abou’ the prostitute fing?’

‘He’s working on it,’ said Strike. With some difficulty, he added, ‘I appreciate this. Thank you.’

‘I ain’ done nuffing ’cept make a phone call,’ said Rokeby. ‘S’not much. Can I ’ave a favour back?’

‘What?’

‘I wanna keep in touch. Not for me fuckin’ image, not for any of that shit. I don’t like not knowin’ ya. You’re my flesh an’ fuckin’ blood. I know I was an arsehole, all right? I know I can’ go back an’be daddy now, but I’m old. You never fink you’ll get there, if you’ve lived a life like I ’ave, I should be fucking dead, but I’m old and I don’t wanna die wivvout knowin’ ya. You fink I ’aven’t got the right to be proud, maybe, but I am. I’m proud of ya.’

Rokeby’s bloodshot eyes had filled with tears.

‘You don’t ’ave to take nuffing, I’m not tryna buy ya, I know you didn’ like me offerin’ money, before. I jus’ wanna know you. Jus’ a beer or somefing, not nowhere public. Anuvver beer, when there ain’t some fuckin’ journo after you. One beer.’

Strike looked at him for a few conflicted seconds, then said,

‘Yeah, all right. We’ll have a beer.’

PART NINE

Reasoning from the trend of the cavern, he came to the conclusion that somewhere on that further side there were openings…

John Oxenham

A Maid of the Silver Sea

106