Page 22 of The Hallmarked Man
‘Come on, you know what I mean!’
‘Yes, that my work’s so trivial it doesn’t matter if I don’t turn—’
‘I never said it was trivial!’
‘You want me to “forget about work”. Well, I don’t want to forget about it. I happen to love my work, and I’m also damn good at it,’ Robin added, in a shaking voice.
‘Bloody hell, I know you are! I’m just asking you to put yourself first for a bit!’
‘No, you’re asking me to put myeggsfirst. My eggs and I arenotthe same thing.’
A silence followed.
‘I’m trying to tell you,’ said Murphy, at last, ‘that if you want to do the egg thing, I’d support you through it, I’d be with you—’
‘What d’you mean “with me”? Willyouhave to be prodded and poked and fiddled about with, Ryan? Willyouhave to have things inserted inside you, and swallow drugs, and suffer any pain or discomfortat all?’
‘No,’ said Murphy, looking unnerved.
‘We’ve never talked about children,’ said Robin. ‘You’ve never even asked if I want them.’
‘I assumed – you like kids. Your niece, your god-kids—’
‘Idolike them, I love them, ofcourseI do. That’s not the – look,’ said Robin, still fighting tears she was determined not to shed, ‘this isn’t the way I ever wanted to have this conversation, but if you’re asking, I don’t know whether I want kids of my own, OK? But even if I don’t, it wasn’t easy – having that surgeon – tell me – out of the blue – that thatfuckingrapist did this to me and –no!’
Murphy, who’d risen to hug her, recoiled.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Robin. ‘I’m still sore. I’m sorry.’
‘Don’t apologise.’
Murphy dropped to his knees beside the sofa and reached for her hand instead.
‘What can I do?’ he said humbly.
‘Stop bitching about my work, and Strike, and the agency,’ said Robin angrily, wiping her eyes on her sleeve. ‘I’ve had enough of that from Matthew and my bloody mother. Nobody’s trying to show anyone up, we’re just trying to find out whether we can help that woman. She’s just given birth to her boyfriend’s baby and doesn’t know where he’s gone. It must be awful.’
‘I’ll stop bitching,’ said Murphy quietly. ‘I was being a dick. What can I do to make you feel better? Name it. Ice cream? Weekend in Paris?’
A reluctant laugh escaped Robin.
‘Dog? D’you want a puppy?’
‘Ryan, you sound like you’re trying to lure me into a van.’
He laughed, and Robin did too, even though it hurt.
‘Come on, I’m serious,’ he said. ‘Anything. Name it.’
‘Anything?’
‘That’s what I said.’
‘OK,’ said Robin, taking a deep breath, ‘find out how certain the police are that it was the armed robber in that vault.’
Murphy sat back on his heels, his expression so strangely blank that Robin said,
‘Sorry, forget it. I don’t want you to do anything—’
