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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

She takes my hand and gives me a tour of the rest of the house. The dining room. Her mother’s study. Her father’s wine cellar. Up to the first floor to her father’s office and the open plan living room and kitchen, which is much less formal. I mean, it still looks like something out of an interiors magazine with its tall windows and white marble fireplace. It’s not the sort of room I could imagine sitting in, on the sofa under a blanket, watching EastEnders. But then, I don’t imagine Poppy’s parents watch EastEnders, do they?

Still, I’m not scared of disturbing anything here. It just looks like a normal living room, even if everything is oversized. The television. The bookcases on either side of the fireplace. The sofas. The purple velvet buttoned footstool, a glossy black tray on top with some equally glossy hardback books stacked on it, a candle on top of them. I walk over to it and lift the lid, giving it a sniff to find that it smells like her.

‘This is your perfume,’ I say, turning to her and holding up the candle.

‘Well spotted.’ She seems genuinely impressed. ‘My grandmother wears it.’

‘So you get on, then? You and your grandmother?’

‘Yeah. She’s my favourite. I can’t wait for you to meet her.’

We share a smile that goes on for a beat too long. She turns away first and as soon as she does, I put the candle back on the pile of books before I drop it. I walk over to one of the windows then and look out at the sea. It’s dark now, the light from the moon picking out the tips of the waves so they look gilded in silver.

‘This must be magnificent in daylight,’ I tell her and she comes over to stand next to me.

‘I guess. I’m not here much to look at it, though.’

I sneak a look at her and she suddenly looks so sad, I almost reach for her hand. But before I can she catches herself, smiling and asking if I want to see the rest of the house. I tell her that I do, so she takes me up to her parents’ floor (yes, they have a whole floor) with its dressing room and shiny copper bathtub and what is quite possibly the biggest bed I have ever seen.

‘Should we turn off the lights? My father would have a stroke. He’s always going on about saving energy.’