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Pringle, Flopsy and Pong.” “Jesus Christ,” muttered Strike. “It’s like interviewing the Teletubbies.” Robin laughed.
Of course, people do stay, even when they’re treated abominably.
How often were you aware, while it happened, that you were living an hour that would change the course of your life forever? She would remember this room for a long time, and she gazed around it now, with the aim of fixing it in her mind, thereby trying to ignore the sadness, the shame and the pain that burned and twisted inside her.
“Sorry,” said Robin nonsensically, and then, bewildered by her own apology, she said, “I’ve—I’ve just left my husband.” “Yeah?” said the driver, switching on her indicator. “I’ve left two. It gets easier with practice.”
“You can bloody hate someone and still wish they gave a shit about you and hate yourself for wishing it.”
“Obviously not. If you were that bloody annoying I wouldn’t be working for you.” “Maybe you could put that on the next employee satisfaction review. ‘Not as bloody annoying as the woman who shagged my husband.’ I’ll have it framed.”
