But people who fundamentally change are rare, in my experience, because it's bloody hard work compared to going on a march or waving a flag. Have we met a single person on this case who's radically different to the person they were forty years ago?""I don't know . . . I think I've changed," said Robin, then felt embarrassed to have said it out loud.Strike looked at her without smiling for the space it took him to chew and swallow a chip, then said,"Yeah. But you're exceptional, aren't you?

Happy birthday, this isn't your real present,you'll get that later. (Not flowers)Love Strike x

Thanks for the balloon donkey. Perfect timing. My old one's nearly deflated.She received an answer sixty seconds later.Great. I was worried it was so obvious, everybody would've got you one. See you at 5.Light-hearted now, Robin drank tea, ate her toast and returned downstairs to open her family's presents.

She'd washed her hands in the bathroom, but they were still damp, because she'd been in such a hurry to get back to Strike.

Mostly Strike was savoring the pleasure it had given him to hear Robin return his declaration of affection.

The memory of Strike telling her she was his best friend made her heart feel immeasurably lightened, as though something she hadn't realized was weighing on it had been removed forever.After a moment's pleasurable savoring of this feeling . . .

The memory of him telling her she was his best friend caused a little spurt of happiness every time she returned to it . . .

Now she hesitated, wondering whether she dare do what she wanted . . . but surely, if they were best friends, it was all right?

They beamed at each other: for a moment, Robin thought she saw the idea of hugging her cross Strike's mind, but instead he held out his hand and shook hers.