a____________cs

Robin had undergone three relocations in as many years. Her first move occurred after marrying Matthew, and together, they rented a splendid house in an upscale neighborhood, courtesy of Matthew’s substantial income. After their separation, Robin had depleted her resources due to the expenses of the divorce process, and one of her savings was tied up during the proceedings. Robin found solace in sharing a flat with a delightful queer actor, where their friendship played a significant role in Robin’s mental healing during the challenging divorce process.

Initially, Robin had intended to continue living in the flat, cherishing the support and companionship her roommate provided. However, due to a sensitive case she was handling, she hesitated to expose her work-related risks to her roommate, suspecting she might be under surveillance. Reluctantly, she made the decision to find a new place, eventually leading her to her current apartment.

Despite her efforts to settle in, Robin struggled to feel at home. Adapting to new environments always made her anxious and uneasy. This discomfort was exacerbated by living alone for the first time in a long while, the last instance being during her college years in a dormitory. She longed for a sense of peace and freedom, knowing it might take some time to achieve. The ongoing construction in the building next door added to her distress. Trees had been relocated, leaving the area around her building looking more barren and significantly dustier than usual.

The construction next to her apartment was bothersome, especially since some trees had to be relocated, further contributing to the barren appearance of the surroundings. The ongoing dustiness was also a nuisance, prompting Robin to consider calling Mrs. Tawney, her cleaning lady. The night before, Mrs. Tawney had messaged Robin, inquiring if she needed cleaning services this week, as she would be out of town over the weekend, offering assistance just in case Robin required it.

“This place totally feels like a college guy’s dorm, Robs,” said her older brother when he visited one day., chuckling at the familiar atmosphere. 

With only two more nights in her surveillance schedule for the week, Robin anticipated having enough energy to tackle her biweekly apartment cleaning routine. 

“I can manage it on my own this week, Mrs. Tawney. Thanks for checking. See you in a few weeks,” she typed into the chat.

After reviewing her case notes and photographs, Robin decided to take a short break and enjoy the biscuits and coffee she had prepared a few hours ago, quickly glancing at the time on her phone screen. 

Tsk. 

She should have left for the museum ten minutes ago.

—

Robin stood in the dimly lit hall of the museum’s art stockroom, gazing at the stack of  artworks that seemed to be resting in the subdued space after such a long period of needing to dazzle visitors, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of belonging. She remembered when her detective partner, Cormoran Strike, first left this case file on her desk. She knew he had taken on the case without much consideration or further consultation with the team, even though it was in the midst of a pile of cases being handled by the agency, because he knew Robin would be interested in this case.

Their client is a family conglomerate oil and gas businessman who has suspicions that there is an art forgery network operating under the guise of restoration in several museums where he acts as a patron. He also suspects that there may have been an exchange of counterfeit artworks within the national museum’s collection as a result of this forgery. Robin has been busy reconnecting with old contacts in the art world for consultations and to learn more about art dealers in London. One of them is a former college friend who has become a curator and art researcher she greatly admires. Although initially confused and disbelieving when he  found out that Robin is now a private detective, he wasn’t too surprised. 

‘I suppose you don’t exactly fit the typical image of an art school graduate.’ he remarked.

True, Robin thought to herself. Her style in school was much duller compared to her fellow art students on campus, unlike most others. Her social circle was different too. Despite being a promising student, she constantly believed she lacked the actual talent of her artsy friends, preferring to remain a tourist in the art world. In her view, it was always more enjoyable that way.

After consulting with her curator friend, Robin discovered several intriguing facts about The Brontë Museum, one of the museum networks being investigated by the agency. From the stockroom, she walked towards one of the corridors to make a phone call to one of the contractors to follow up on a few matters. Faint sounds of visitors could be heard on the ground floor, where the main exhibition room was located. Tomorrow being the Summer Bank Holiday, it was understandable that the museum was bustling with visitors, especially considering the weather wasn’t as gloomy as it had been yesterday.

Robin decided to visit the office on the top floor. The workspace was located in the museum’s most captivating corner, bathed in natural light and offering a lovely view of the street. She could see some staff members preparing for next month’s exhibition. One of the interns she spoke to was a product design graduate who had been previously interviewed by Strike. She was a tall woman with an athletic physique and a strikingly attractive face. Robin wondered whether she was also a model alongside her work at the museum, then wondered whether wondering this was offensive.

‘I thought he came across as rude from the articles I read in the tabloids, but he’s surprisingly charming, isn’t he?’ she said, clearly impressed. 

Robin responded with a smile, choosing to address the topic gracefully. 

Despite her efforts to push aside her thoughts and feelings lately, especially after the incident at the Ritz, she knew the boundaries. Yet, in quiet moments, when she allowed herself to acknowledge the truth, her heart fluttered with an emotion she was both afraid to confront and unable to deny. Of course, she didn’t know what the consequences would be this time. 

—

Robin decided to ask Ryan to pick her up at the office. She was happy as she arrived at Denmark Street with a positive feeling about the progress of her case. She made her way to the inner office, where Strike was waiting.

‘Fancy updating me before you leave?’ said Strike, checking his watch. 

He knew Robin was due to take some long-overdue leave today. 

‘Unless you need to get going?’

‘No, I’m waiting for Ryan,’ said Robin. ‘I’ve got time.’

Strike closed the door.

‘Are you alright?’ Robin asked. 

‘What?’ said Strike, though he’d heard her. ‘Yeah. I’m fine.’ 

Strike and Robin had once before sat in this office, after dark and full of whisky, and he’d come dangerously close to crossing the line between friend and lover. He’d felt then the fatalistic daring of the trapeze artist, preparing to swing out into the spotlight with only black air beneath him, and he felt the same now. This time, he was going to tell her that he fell in love with her.

—

Four months later.

The old Land Rover rumbled along the deserted snow-covered road, its headlights cutting through the winter darkness. Inside, Robin sat bundled up, a hood pulled over her head to shield against the cold. She clutched a thermos of hot tea and resisted the temptation to devour the contents of the biscuit box in the driver’s seat. She was fully immersed in her undercover role for the case.

As she sipped her tea, a soft smile played on her lips as she gazed at the distant silhouette approaching her vehicle. The figure walked purposefully through the snow, heading towards Robin’s Land Rover. 

He looks a few stones lighter. But he seems healthy, which is good. Robin thought.

The door creaked open.

“Hi,” Strike greeted, a smile lighting up his face.

“Hi,” responded Robin, mirroring his smile. “Want some biscuits?”

Smiling, Strike chuckled, “Give me a hug first.”

The “Unlived Lives” series represent short fiction of the roles that might have been destined for me in an alternate dimension, purposes I believe were meant to be mine but remained unfulfilled in the present life.

Read the first series here: Unlived Lives: Art Curator