Chapter Text
“I think it was the pâté.” said Robin, head still in the toilet bowl and then hurled for the third time in as many minutes.
“Not the copious amounts of shots you’ve done with Mrs Wardle this evening, then?” replied Strike, gently rearranging the makeshift ponytail he had been holding since he followed her into the cubicle to assist.
“Oh shurrup!!!” Robin snapped at him, her face still very much in the toilet bowl. Strike smiled as her endearing Yorkshire accent became more pronounced as her anger and embarrassment heightened.
“No… You shurrup!” he was quite proud of his own Yorkshire impersonation back at her. Robin looked back up sharply towards him, incensed by his mimicking. He raised his eyebrows and smiled back, teasing her further. “Be nice Ellacott. I’m helping you out here. You forget I know exactly how much of a lightweight you are. Ready for some water?”
“Yup” she replied and then immediately hurled for the fourth time.
“Clearly not then.” He leaned further into the toilet area within the small confined space, and then added “looks like the seafood main wasn’t your wisest choice before embarking on ‘tequila hour’ as it will now forever be known.”
“You!! You are not helping! And you bloody well know it!” said an exhausted Robin, finally lifting her head up and placing both hands on the seat sides. She sighed in relief, “why are you in here anyway?! with your big body taking up all of my space?”
He could tell her the truth, that he was worried about her out of character behaviour tonight or the fact he didn’t like to see her so upset and cranky. But most importantly, he was present because he cared far too deeply for her. “Always wanted to see the inside of a Ladies Loo. Saw this chance, seized the opportunity. But I acknowledge, I’m crowding your space with my big manly body” he let go of her bunched hair and lightly smoothed her back before adding sincerely “so, i’ll be outside with a wet hand towel waiting for you.”
Robin slumped into a seated position on the cold tiled floor and hunched her legs up to her chest. “I never said ‘manly’!!“ she corrected him as he opened the door.
“But you meant to. I’ll meet you outside, take your time.” and with that he retreated to the wash basin area directly in front of Robin’s cubicle.
Robin crashed her forehead onto her knees in embarrassment. ‘stop being decent Strike’ she said to herself ‘it just… just makes it harder…’
She sat for a moment and simply listened to Strike outside running the taps in the luxurious parlour room of the five star hotel. She could hear him chatting to some surprised but jovial wedding guests, entering the Ladies. “First time actually” she heard him reply to their obvious questioning. “-won’t make a habit of it, I promise. Although, it smells a lot better than the male equivalent”.
“Is your wife ok now? Does she need anything sir?” Robin had spotted the middle aged, plump parlour attendant briefly as she entered, desperately searching for a free cubicle to chunder in.
“Thank you. As you probably heard, she’ll be better now than she was” Robin heard Strike’s reply, he hadn’t corrected the attendant about her wrong assumption. “But.. just out of interest, are those lollipops you have, are they free to all of us visitors?” Robin rolled her eyes, and tutted, always, he was always looking for the next oral fixation.
“Of course Sir!” the attendant replied in her heavy accent, chuckling away. “Please. Help yourself. There are also fragrances but no cologne Sir. Not in the Ladies Sir.” Robin was annoyed with him again, even more so than she’d been earlier that evening. He clearly would have frequented 5 star establishments throughout his Charlotte years. He clearly knew you were meant to tip for those sort of extras, to take it for free, well, it was nothing short of being cheap. Robin’s annoyance was interrupted by the sound of multiple heavy coins clanging into a glass dish. “Very kind Sir. Oh thank you!! That’s very generous. Sir! Please. Take another.” God, he was infuriating. Why couldn’t Robin simply be free to be irritated by him.
“Very kind! Go on then. I’ll take a lemon lollipop for ‘the little Mrs’. She’s going through a sour stage at the moment. Thank you…” The inflection before his pause meant only one thing, Robin knew him far too well. He’d be reading her name off the name tag and any second now he’d- “Thank you Juanita”. Robin shook her head, he was so predictable, with his polite manners, and making total strangers feel immediately connected. The attendant’s giggle was as expected, another female instantly charmed by his easy attention to detail. Robin scowled and pushed herself up into standing.
“Little Mrs?!” Robin snapped at him as she opened the cubicle door. She was ready to challenge his sexist language. Oh yes, she was ready to immediately hold him to account, but the sight in front of her caught her off guard. Strike was now propped up leaning back against the washbasins, arms folded, all handsome in his predictable wedding attire - the Italian suit. That bloody suit. He was always wearing it. Always looking confident, always looking fine. It was always distracting.
His mischievous smile was only interrupted by him rolling around a lollipop in his mouth, his eyes were teasing her, he’d known the comment would poke Robin into battle. “Here she is Juanita!” He was beautifully handsome backlit by the mirrored backdrop. Juanita was 5ft nothing standing next to him, only emphasising how good looking a giant he was. Damn him. He was indeed manly.
“Sir says you like sour currently. Yes?” Juanita held out a sour flavoured lollipop to Robin. Strike barely contained his joy and laughter at Juanita’s unwitting collusion in winding up Robin. He did so by sucking on his own lollipop, pulling on the stick, he made a pop sound with his mouth.
“Who loves you baby?” he said looking directly at Robin. Robin was discombobulated by his comment. Was he for real? What did that even mean?
“What?! What are you chatting about? I don’t understand.” Robin replied.
“Who loves you baby?” he repeated in exactly the same tone. Robin blushed. She could blame the blushing on the tequila or the pâté if she had to. He wasn’t breaking eye contact, this was unsettling. He was unsettling.
“Who loves you baby?” now Juanita was saying it, but in a deep voice. Strike laughed and pointed his lollipop at his new sidekick. “Juanita gets it.” he said proudly. Robin thought they were surely the drunk ones, for they both made no sense at all. Juanita popped the sour lollipop into Robin’s hand and smiled. “Sir, your wife is beautiful and too young to know.”
Strike snorted “To be fair Juanita, I’m a bit young myself for Kojak. Surely you are too?” His wink made Juanita slap his arm in delight and flattery.
“You very lucky lady!” Juanita giggled at Robin. “Handsome and nice man you have. He care for you so kindly when you drink too, too much.” Robin was mortified, Strike rolled the lollipop around his mouth but couldn’t hide his smirk and delight at Robin’s expense.
“Thank you for the lollipop Juanita!” said a yielding Robin. She shouldn’t be embarrassed or apologetic for enjoying herself at a friend’s wedding. A man certainly wouldn’t. And yet Robin was. The maudlin mood that had grown stronger throughout the day was back in full force, only briefly curtailed by the vomiting.
“Enjoy your evening!” smiled a departing Juanita as she moved away to help a another guest locate the hidden soap dispenser.
Strike handed Robin a carefully prepared, folded cold wet hand towel and she placed it against her forehead. Strike looked on at Robin’s side profile as she stood next to him, facing towards the wall sized lit mirror. Juanita was right, she was so beautiful- even in this state of weeping mascara and smudged lipstick.
“Want to tell me what’s going on with you tonight?” said Strike in a low calming tone.
“No.” replied a very affirmative Robin.
Strike nodded in acceptance.
“Little Mrs?!” Robin attempted to distract his current line of questioning back to her previous unresolved irk.
Strike shrugged. Robin shrugged in return. “Is that it? Shrug at your own use of sexist language?”
Strike was not biting. “ye who throws the first stone, fair maiden.” he said indifferently.
“Er, excuse me? Well this better be good Strike!” she said genuinely intrigued at what nonsense he was conjuring up now in his much more sober state.
“you body-shamed me whilst I looked after you in your hour of need..” he swirled the lollipop over to the other side of his mouth with glee.
“I. Did. Not!” Robin said clearly affronted.
“You said my ‘big manly body’ was taking up your space.”
“I did not say ‘manly’!!!”
“But you meant too. We’ve already covered this Ellacott.”
“Grrr. You’re incorrigible.” Robin stuck her head under the tap, gargled some water and rinsed. She felt better for it.
“You’re most welcome! Now. Back to the real issue - what’s going on with you tonight?” Strike took her hand nearest him and turned Robin to face him. His caring, sincere tone was back. “Because we do that talking thing now. Remember? You know, that best mate sharing thing.” Robin dipped her head in pure heartache. The best mate stalemate. He was clueless.
“Is it a wedding vow thing? Too soon after the divorce?” he ventured.
“No.” She giggled dismissively. He wasn’t letting go of her hand.
“Wardle thinks I’m somehow to blame…” Strike considered her carefully for tell signs. “Thinks you’re pissed off with me, because I used your ‘plus one’ to get chatting to DCI Stanley about the Hanover case…”
“And? Did Stanley cough up?” asked a naturally interested Robin, making eye contact with Strike briefly, this was work related and a much more comfortable footing for toilet room banter.
“Sang like a canary. Clearly loves a wedding and the free bar. Warrant for Webster being issued on Monday.” Robin smiled at this information.
“so it was totally worth it” said Robin triumphantly “being my plus one, it was useful, productive. Mission accomplished!”
Strike wasn’t convinced. “It was. Thank you. …but did it potentially stop you bringing someone else..?”
“No!” said Robin slightly more defensively than she had wanted. “I mean, I invited you, I initiated that idea. The Stanley ambush was my idea!”
“It was.” He replied confidently. Strike tugged her hand towards him so rather than standing beside him, Robin now stood in front of him.
“Your new drinking buddy April also thinks it’s my fault…”
“Oh God!” Robin winced, she felt much more sober after vacating her entire wedding meal and numerous drinks from her body and soul. However she was now too sober to rehear April’s perceptive theory again. “What’s her theory then?” Robin did however, want to hear Strike’s sober take on April’s analysis.
“April Wardle, who has always been cuttingly honest with her feelings of me, is a very loyal friend. First to Lorelie and now to you. Apparently ‘she gets it’, whatever that means, but over my manly dead body is she going to let her new drinking buddy be taken in by me and my manly ways”. He was smiling gently at Robin, whilst self mocking.
Robin scrunched her face up, slightly relieved, April could have been even more brutal, as she had been fairly direct to Robin after the second tequila. “What did you say in response to that?” Robin asked.
“I told her we’ve been working together 5yrs now and people constantly get our relationship status wrong. Like my mate Juanita. But we both know where we stand and professionally it works. We have no intention of fucking it up. We’ve found what works for us and we know exactly where we stand.” He knew this to be a lie as soon as he said it. “I told April she had nothing to be concerned about. Her Tequila totting bestie was quite safe.”
Robin dropped her head overwhelmed in sadness again. “Absolutely. Completely safe.” Strike studied her. He wasn’t quite sure if her sadness was down to his last statement or she was simply returning to her off-mood that everyone had witnessed throughout the day and evening.
“So what’s the deal? What gives? Tell me what’s got you rattled. …Please?” He was burning eyes into her, desperately trying to get her to re-make eye contact.
Robin went to open her mouth, she was torn between sharing with the one person that could comfort her, that could cheer her up, and the same person that was responsible for her overt heartache, the heartache that was clearly proving harder to hide by the hour. She closed her mouth again, wordless.
Strike studied her throughout as she struggled to verbalise a reply.
“OK. Let’s start at the beginning. Because you seemed ok when I met you outside the tube station.” Agreed, she had been, she thought to herself. “It was only in the church, when you saw Vanessa in her dress that I first noticed it.” Strike gave a long pause, to see if Robin would fill the silence. Robin was too busy internalising his perceptiveness. Even she didn’t realised it started then. “You were melancholic after that”. Another long pause. Strike reached for her other hand and gently tugged her a step nearer to him. “If it’s something i’ve done…”
“It isn’t.” Robin said immediately.
“….or something I haven’t done…” Strike said in a low, concerned tone.
“it isn’t” she replied, more quietly and less convincing.
“Tell me and I’ll-“
“It’s nothing.” She interrupted him. She couldn’t talk about it anymore.
“Well, I’m sorry Robin”. He tugged her a step nearer, he spread his legs to make space for her to step nearer. She conceded and followed his lead. “I’m genuinely sorry” he repeated.
Robin looked up at him and her eyes told him she accepted his apology.
“Robin!! There’s you are!! Come!! DJ is playing Beyoncé! Quick! Cormoran?!! whads you doing in the Ladies bog?! I’ve told youse already, let Robs find her new-“
“She’s coming now! You sent me after her, remember?” Strike interrupted April from finishing that particular sentence. He dropped his hands away from Robin before April spotted and made reference to their intimate contact.
“I need to go home and brush my teeth.” whispered Robin to Strike.
“You need to go dance through the Beyoncé medley with the other hens. Eric and I have already heard far too much today about this dance routine that you all learnt at Dublin’s finest hen pole-dancing class. You and April’s finest moment today is yet to be executed. Now cheer the fuck up Ellacott. Go have some fun. After that, I promise to get you home, I’ll even splash out on a Hackney carriage for us.”
Robin smiled at him. He was seeing her home. That was nice.
“Listen…” a very drunk April approached them both and now had one arm around each of their shoulders, April pulled them both in closer to form a huddle. It was clear she was about to impart some wisdom, the type that only a drunk party girl, now past her prime, would confide to two mates after 4hours of daytime drinking. “Either leave each other alone” she whispered, taking turns to look them both in the eye “or… get a bloody room!! Do you know whad I mean?! Jeez, you two!! Like, it’s, it’s like Van says. Neither uv youse is moving on until-“ April burped. “Soz, sorryz Robin. Not so sorry to youse Mr Manly Fit Man!! …But sorryz Robs.” Strike and Robin both looked at April bemused. April took a deep breath and continued. “No one’s getting laid again until youse both move on. Hang on! No, no, what I means is… no one’s moving on until youse both get laid! That’s what I’d meant to say… or is it? …But, youse understand me, yeah?! It ain’t happening. You’se both blocking, youse both blocking each other. Cock blocking. All this ‘it’s just work’ bollocks. Well, it’s deluded bollocks thadz whad it is! I’m telling you! she poked Strike in his chest on each remaining syllable “it is utter bullocks.”
“Beyoncé needs your moves now Mrs Wardle!” said a jovial Strike.
“Come on April!” Robin dragged April away by grabbing her wrist and heading to the exit. “Beyoncé hasn’t put a ring on it yet. Let’s go!”
Robin gave Strike their well established hand gesture to suggest ‘give me 5mins and I’ll be ready’. Strike nodded to confirm his understanding as they left. He took a deep breath and inspected his lollipop. It was small and crunchable now. He stood up from his perch and headed to the exit of the Ladies himself, waving farewell to Juanita now busy wiping down a counter. He had one last quick look around at the pinkness of the parlour and gathered his thoughts.
April Wardle was right.