Page 398 of The Hallmarked Man
John Oxenham
A Maid of the Silver Sea
Robin’s heels were making so much noise on the metal stairs she didn’t realise her partner had followed her until she heard him call her name. Turning, she saw him standing above her on the dingy landing. To her surprise, he said nothing, but just looked at her.
‘What?’ she said.
Strike descended a couple of steps.
‘Don’t make the same mistake twice.’
‘What?’ said Robin, confused.
‘Just because Murphy’s been decent over – you know – you don’t owe him.’
Robin, who felt nothing but astonishment, stared up at him. Then, suddenly, realisation hit her.
‘Youknow?’
‘Know what?’ said Strike.
‘That Ryan’s going to propose.’
‘Soyouknow?’ he said, descending another step, trying to read her expression.
‘How—?’
‘He told Iverson. She told Wardle.’
Robin suddenly felt a powerful, inexplicable urge to cry. She hated the idea that people, especially Strike, knew the proposal was about to happen; it added almost unbearable pressure, when she had less than an hour in which to decide what on earth she was going to say when Murphy reached for the ring box in his pocket.
‘I’ve got to go,’ she said, and turned to leave.
‘Robin.’
‘What?’ she said, yet again.
‘You need to – I want to say something.’
Strike descended one more step, so that they stood only two apart, and the blood was pounding in his ears, exactly as it had the morning he’d found out Charlotte was dead. The seconds ticked past, until, almost aggressively, he said,
‘I’m in love with you.’
Robin neither moved nor spoke, but somewhere inside she felt a cold eruption, and couldn’t have told whether it was shock, pleasure or pain, and nothing occurred to her except to say for the fourth time, ‘What?’
‘I’m in love with you,’ Strike repeated.
Robin’s expression was entirely blank, her face a little paler than usual, but unreadable. The silence stretched on, and Robin simply stared. She couldn’t believe what she’d just heard, but the conclusion she’d reached over the last few, excruciatingly painful months finally decided her to say in a clipped voice,
‘I know exactly what you’re doing.’ It was taking every ounce of her self-possession not to break down. ‘You’re scared I’ll leave the agency if I marry—’
‘Bullshit, that’s not—’
‘Then why say this tonight? Because you think you’re about to lose me,’ she said, before he could answer. ‘Well, you needn’t worry, I’m not going any—’
‘This isn’t about the agency. It isn’t,’ he insisted, before she could contradict him. ‘I’llleave this fucking agency before you do. I’ve been trying to find the right time to say it for months. This wasn’t the plan,’ he said, gesturing at the dingy stairwell. ‘I was going to say it in the Lake District, and then on Sark—’
‘I don’t believe you,’ said Robin, with difficulty, because her throat seemed to have swollen. She didn’t know whether this was out of anger – at Strike, at herself, at Murphy – or because of the terribletwisting pain in her heart. ‘If you genuinely – if this was real – I’ve got to go,’ she repeated, and she began to hurry down the stairs, leaving Strike where he stood.
