1 The Cuckoo's Calling

10
ROBIN HAD FALLEN INTO THE habit of buying Strike a pack of sandwiches with her
own, if he happened to be in the office over lunchtime, and reimbursing herself
from petty cash.
Today, however, she did not hurry back. She had noticed, though Lucy had
seemed oblivious, how unhappy Strike had been to find them in conversation.
His expression, when he had entered the office, had been every bit as grim as the
first time they had met.
Robin hoped that she had not said anything to Lucy that Strike would not like.
Lucy had not exactly pried, but she had asked questions to which it was difficult
to know the answer.
“Have you met Charlotte yet?”
Robin guessed that this was the stunning ex-wife or girlfriend whose exit she
had witnessed on her first morning. Near-collision hardly constituted a meeting,
however, so she answered:
“No, I haven’t.”
“Funny.” Lucy had given a disingenuous little smile. “I’d have thought she’d
have wanted to meet you.”
For some reason, Robin had felt prompted to reply:
“I’m only temporary.”
“Still,” said Lucy, who seemed to understand the answer better than Robin did
herself.
It was only now, wandering up and down the aisle of crisps without really
concentrating on them, that the implications of what Lucy had said slid into
place. Robin supposed that Lucy might have meant to flatter her, except that the
mere possibility of Strike making any kind of pass was extremely distasteful to
her.
(“Matt, honestly, if you saw him…he’s enormous and he’s got a face like
some beaten-up boxer. He is not remotely attractive, I’m sure he’s over forty,
and…” she had cast around for more aspersions to cast upon Strike’s appearance,
“he’s got that sort of pubey hair.”
Matthew had only really become reconciled to her continuing employment
with Strike now that Robin had accepted the media consultancy job.)