Manny stalked away on rubber-soled shoes.
‘He’s sulking,’ Chard told Strike, with an uncomfortable half-laugh. ‘They don’t like it down here. They prefer London.’
He retrieved his crutches from the floor and pushed himself back up into a standing position. Strike, with more effort, imitated him.
‘And how is – er – Mrs Quine?’ Chard said, with an air of belatedly ticking off the proprieties as they swung, like strange three-legged animals, back towards the front door. ‘Big red-headed woman, yes?’
‘No,’ said Strike. ‘Thin. Greying hair.’
‘Oh,’ said Chard, without much interest. ‘I met someone else.’
Strike paused beside the swing doors that led to the kitchen. Chard halted too, looking aggrieved.
‘I’m afraid I need to get on, Mr Strike—’
‘So do I,’ said Strike pleasantly, ‘but I don’t think my assistant would thank me for leaving her behind.’
Chard had evidently forgotten the existence of Robin, whom he had so peremptorily dismissed.
‘Oh, yes, of course – Manny! Nenita!’
‘She’s in the bathroom,’ said the stocky woman, emerging from the kitchen holding the linen bag containing Robin’s shoes.
The wait passed in a faintly uncomfortable silence. At last Robin appeared, her expression stony, and slipped her feet back into her shoes.
The cold air bit their warm faces as the front door swung open while Strike shook hands with Chard. Robin moved directly to the car and climbed into the driver’s seat without speaking to anyone.
Manny reappeared in his thick coat.
‘I’ll come down with you,’ he told Strike. ‘To check the gates.’
‘They can buzz the house if they’re stuck, Manny,’ said Chard, but the young man paid no attention, clambering into the car as before.
The three of them rode in silence back down the black-and-white drive, through the falling snow. Manny pressed the remote control he had brought with him and the gates slid open without difficulty.
‘Thanks,’ said Strike, turning to look at him in the back seat. ‘’Fraid you’ve got a cold walk back.’
Manny sniffed, got out of the car and slammed the door. Robin had just shifted into first gear when Manny appeared at Strike’s window. She applied the brake.
‘Yeah?’ said Strike, winding the window down.
‘I didn’t push him,’ said Manny fiercely.
‘Sorry?’
‘Down the stairs,’ said Manny. ‘I didn’t push him. He’s lying.’
Strike and Robin stared at him.
‘You believe me?’
‘Yeah,’ said Strike.
‘OK then,’ said Manny, nodding at them. ‘OK.’
He turned and walked, slipping a little in his rubber-soled shoes, back up to the house.