‘He turned up his collar and limped away into the darkness for what should have been a five-minute walk, but which took him nearly fifteen. Only as he turned the corner into the neat terraced street with its well-tended front gardens did it occur to Strike that he ought, perhaps, to have brought a gift for his godson.’
Galbraith, Robert. The Silkworm: Cormoran Strike Book 2 (p. 178)
On his thirty-sixth birthday, Strike has dinner with Richard Anstis, the policeman in charge of the Quine case, whose life Strike saved in the explosion which cost him his lower right leg in Afghanistan. Anstis has pulled rank to work the case, because of Strike’s involvement. Strike is not over fond of Anstis, or his wife Helly, and is now a reluctant godfather to their son born just before the explosion. During the dinner, Strike keeps the fact it is his birthday to himself, but learns from Helly that his ex-fiancée, Charlotte Campbell has set a date to marry Jago Ross, the fourteenth Viscount of Croy.
The street in Greenwich where the Anstis family lives is only half a mile from Greenwich Park; the site of Greenwich Palace where King Henry VIII, and his daughters Queens Mary and Elizabeth, and the Royal Observatory. Greenwich inspired Samuel Johnson habitué of the Cheddar Cheese to verse, Where Greenwich smiles upon the silver flood: Pleased with the seat which gave Eliza birth, We kneel and kiss the consecrated earth.
Ashburnham Grove itself deserves some respect from crime writers, even if Strike is eager to get away. It was here in 1875 that Edgar Wallace was born and an unofficial plaque marks the spot. Wallace was a prolific writer of thrillers, crime, non-fiction and short stories, producing 12 novels in 1929 alone. Among his most famous non-crime works was the story for the original King King movie.
Perhaps his imagination infects Strike’s dreams, which that night see him facing Charlotte, wearing a blood-red gown in an eerie gothic cathedral.
