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Chapters (86)
  1. Title Page
  2. CONTENTS
  3. Love
  4. Before
  5. One
  6. ONE
  7. Two
  8. TWO
  9. Three
  10. THREE
  11. Four
  12. FOUR
  13. Five
  14. FIVE
  15. Six
  16. SIX
  17. Seven
  18. SEVEN
  19. Eight
  20. EIGHT
  21. Nine
  22. NINE
  23. Ten
  24. TEN
  25. Eleven
  26. ELEVEN
  27. After
  28. One
  29. ONE
  30. Two
  31. TWO
  32. Three
  33. THREE
  34. Four
  35. FOUR
  36. Five
  37. FIVE
  38. Six
  39. SIX
  40. Seven
  41. SEVEN
  42. Eight
  43. EIGHT
  44. Nine
  45. NINE
  46. Ten
  47. TEN
  48. Eleven
  49. ELEVEN
  50. Twelve
  51. TWELVE
  52. Thirteen
  53. THIRTEEN
  54. Fourteen
  55. FOURTEEN
  56. Fifteen
  57. FIFTEEN
  58. Sixteen
  59. SIXTEEN
  60. Seventeen
  61. SEVENTEEN
  62. Eighteen
  63. EIGHTEEN
  64. Nineteen
  65. NINETEEN
  66. Twenty
  67. TWENTY
  68. Twenty-One
  69. TWENTY-ONE
  70. Twenty-Two
  71. TWENTY-TWO
  72. Twenty-Three
  73. TWENTY-THREE
  74. Twenty-Four
  75. TWENTY-FOUR
  76. Twenty-Five
  77. TWENTY-FIVE
  78. Twenty-Six
  79. TWENTY-SIX
  80. Twenty-Seven
  81. TWENTY-SEVEN
  82. Twenty-Eight
  83. TWENTY-EIGHT
  84. Eleven Months Later
  85. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  86. Copyright

Dev squeaks and Esen holds her arms out as if to say, I told you so. ‘A working week, then.’

‘OK. OK. That’s enough,’ Deborah tells them with a weary sigh then holds up a neon pink Post-it note. ‘We’ve got another stabbing at the station. Which one of you wants it?’

Esen sticks her arm up. ‘Me! I haven’t done one for a while.’ She clambers off the sofa, coat swinging at her sides as she walks over to the counter and takes the Post-it before turning to me. ‘You ready for one?’

‘Not yet,’ Deborah warns, peering over her glasses at her then at me. ‘Ash needs to get some rest.’

‘OK,’ Esen says with a swift shrug, buttoning her coat and striding to the door. ‘Laters, losers.’

The bell rings and she’s gone, the bookshop suddenly much quieter.

‘An eternity with that?’

I don’t realise that I’ve said it out loud until I hear Dev let out a sigh. ‘Now you know why they had to lock me upstairs for a week.’

Not that she needs to, but Deborah reminds me that it’s been a long night and suggests I go upstairs and get some rest. I don’t hesitate, for once. Dev offers to show me the way and I get the impression that she does this a lot – volunteering to help Deborah – like that girl in class who jumps up to distribute the handouts before the teacher has even asked. It’s nice, I suppose – thoughtful – but I’m more of a sit-at-the-back-of-the-classroom-and-hope-no-one-notices-me kind of girl so I fear that we’re not going to get on, Dev and I.

I follow her upstairs into a bedroom. It’s about the same size as my parents’ room and just as neat, with the same wide floorboards as the shop downstairs and a window that, even with net curtains, I can see looks out on to the Lanes. There’s a double bed with bedside tables either side, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers. Normal things, but I still feel uneasy. Nothing goes together, as though someone’s gone into a charity shop and said, ‘I’ll have that, that and that.’ Even the duvet and pillowcases don’t match, the cover cream with huge red flowers while the pillowcases have red, white and blue stripes. They’re creased, but must be clean, at least, given that the colours are dull from being washed too many times. Still, as exhausted as I am, I’m not in any rush to get in.