‘Everything’s fine,’ Gabriela said. ‘I was just thirsty. Sorry, I didn’t want to disturb you.’

‘That’s no problem.’ His eyes flicked briefly to Polina. ‘Will you lock up down here if we go up?’

Polina nodded as Gabriela moved past, more quickly, towards the stairs, aware of Polina’s eyes following her across the house.

Chapter 44

Isobel

I’d intended to use the newspaper’s infinitely more efficient Wi-Fi to continue my online search into the owners of the premises off Tottenham Court Road, but with everyone gathering around my desk to toast Si’s thirtieth birthday, it is impossible to do so without alerting Ben to the fact that I am up to something.

In the end, I’m obliged to go along when everyone piles out of the office for a drink to celebrate Si’s birthday at arguably the shittest pub in Camden.

At around 9p.m., desperate to get back to my research, I spot Si disappear to the bathroom and take it as an opportunity to grab my coat, telling the others I am going for a fag before pulling open the double doors back onto the high street and heading for home.

Autumn is preparing to slink away and it strikes me the months are passing too quickly, the threat of winter starting to creep in, stroking its icy fingertips across the city.

Even as I step out onto the pavement, into the night with its drizzling sky and illuminated grey pavements, I feel a bristling at the back of my neck. By the time I reach my front door, the pane of glass still only covered with cardboard and tape, I know in my bones that something is wrong.

Easing my key into the lock, the sharpness of the feeling lingers, following me into the hallway at the foot of the dark staircase, shadows dancing on the walls, the glow of streetlamps casting a golden haze across the narrow ceiling. Reaching for the light switch, I press it on and off, but once again it isn’t working.

Fuck, I curse under my breath.

In the darkness, I hear a sound above the slow creaking of my own footsteps. Near the top of the stairs I stumble back, reaching out an arm just in time to steady myself. When I reach the top and move forward to press a hand against the door, it swings open before I even have time to reach for the lock.

Automatically, my hand plunges along the wall inside the room, searching for the switch. As it comes on, casting the studio flat in a dingy yellow glow, I take a step back.

Across the living area there are papers strewn over the floor, cups, bottles, drawers upturned.

Leaning back against the wall, my heart pounds inside my chest. Suddenly, I hear a noise. Without considering what I am doing, I move slowly towards the bedroom, my whole body on high alert.