“I’ve got to ring my mother. Back in a bit.”

Leaning against a streetlamp a short distance away she called her parents’ number.

“Are you all right, Robin?”

“Yes, Mum.”

“What’s going on between you and Matthew?”

Robin looked up at the faintly starry sky.

“I think we’ve split up.”

“You think?” said Linda. She sounded neither shocked nor sad, merely interested in the full facts.

Robin had been worried that she might cry when she had to say it aloud, yet no tears stung her eyes, nor did she need to force herself to speak calmly. Perhaps she was toughening up. The desperate life story of Holly Brockbank and the gruesome end of the unknown girl in Shepherd’s Bush certainly gave a person perspective.

“It only happened on Monday night.”

“Was this because of Cormoran?”

“No,” said Robin. “Sarah Shadlock. It turns out Matt was sleeping with her while I was… at home. When—you know when. After I dropped out.”

Two young men meandered out of the Olympic, definitely the worse for drink, shouting and swearing at each other. One of them spotted Robin and nudged the other. They veered towards her.

“Thoo orlrigh’, darlin’?”

Strike got out of the car and slammed the door, looming darkly, a head taller than both of them. The youths swayed away in sudden silence. Strike lit a cigarette leaning up against the car, his face in shadow.

“Mum, are you still there?”

“He told you this on Monday night?” asked Linda.

“Yes,” said Robin.

“Why?”

“We were rowing about Cormoran again,” Robin muttered, aware of Strike yards away. “I said, ‘It’s a platonic relationship, like you and Sarah’—and then I saw his face—and then he admitted it.”

Her mother gave a long, deep sigh. Robin waited for words of comfort or wisdom.

“Dear God,” said Linda. There was another long silence. “How are you really, Robin?”

“I’m all right, Mum, honestly. I’m working. It’s helping.”

“Why are you in Barrow, of all places?”

“We’re trying to trace one of the men Strike thinks might’ve sent him the leg.”

“Where are you staying?”

“We’re going to go to the Travelodge,” said Robin. “In separate rooms, obviously,” she hastened to add.

“Have you spoken to Matthew since you left?”

“He keeps sending me texts telling me he loves me.”

As she said it, she realized that she had not read his last. She had only just remembered it.

“I’m sorry,” Robin told her mother. “The dress and the reception and everything… I’m so sorry, Mum.”

“They’re the last things I’m worried about,” said Linda and she asked yet again: “Are you all right, Robin?”

“Yes, I promise I am.” She hesitated, then said, almost defiantly, “Cormoran’s been great.”

“You’re going to have to talk to Matthew, though,” said Linda. “After all this time… you can’t not talk to him.”

Robin’s composure broke; her voice trembled with rage and her hands shook as the words poured out of her.

“We were at the rugby with them just two weekends ago, with Sarah and Tom. She’s been hanging around ever since they were at uni—they were sleeping together while I was—while I—he’s never cut her out of his life, she’s always hugging him, flirting with him, shit-stirring between him and me—at the rugby it was Strike, oh, he’s so attractive, just the two of you in the office, is it?—and all this time I’ve thought it just went one way, I knew she’d tried to get him into bed at uni but I never—eighteen months, they were sleeping together—and you know what he said to me? She was comforting him… I had to give in and say she could come to the wedding because I’d asked Strike without telling Matt, that was my punishment, because I didn’t want her there. Matt has lunch with her whenever he’s near her offices—”