‘I am sorry, but we are not allowed to pass on that kind of information without the buyer’s consent.’

‘Can’t you make an exception?’

‘Sorry, love. More than my job’s worth, especially on a day like today.’

‘Day like today?’

‘Valentine’s Day.’

‘Of course.’ I’d forgotten. It had been so long since I’d had a card or gift, the date no longer registered with me.

‘Sounds like you have a mystery admirer.’

‘It does, doesn’t it?’

‘Don’t worry. He’ll probably reveal himself at some point. You can be sure of that.’

After the call, I put the flowers in a vase and inhaled the heady scent. A mystery admirer? Michael? No. He’d never sent flowers before. Jon? He’d sent me white flowers as a thank-you just after he moved here and I’d cooked for him. Richard? He didn’t often buy flowers but, when he did, he didn’t spare any expense. Or maybe Marcia? It was the kind of thing she’d done in the past when I was going through a difficult time. Yes, probably her, but then again, she’d have said they were from her. She didn’t do mystery. Heather’s words from a conversation weeks ago came back to me. ‘If you have a soulmate out there, then let him come to you,’ she’d said. Could these flowers be from him? I wondered. If they were, then he’d left one clue, and that was that he was a man with good taste.

30

On Sunday morning, Marcia texted me to meet at Waterlow Park, by Swain’s Lane gate, at eleven.

I texted back: Great. Need some fresh air after being cooped up in the shop.

It was one of my favourite spots to walk in all seasons, with lakes, bridges, a great variety of trees, and the added bonus of a charming café in the old house up near the main road.

Marcia was waiting for me at the entrance when I got there and, instead of heading off into the park, she started off down the lane towards Highgate Cemetery further down.

‘Where are you going?’

Marcia pointed ahead. ‘To see if we can find Grace’s grave.’

I groaned. ‘Why? What’s that going to prove?’

‘More evidence that she existed.’

‘We know she existed.’

‘I want to make it real for you, then maybe you’ll take what Saranya Ji told you more seriously.’

‘I don’t think we have any doubt that she was a real person; what is in doubt is that I used to be her in a past life. Besides, wandering around a cemetery on my day off is not my idea of relaxation.’

‘Ah, but have you ever been to these cemeteries?’

‘No but—’

‘They’re amazing. Come on, trust me, you’ll like them and, you never know, something might act as a trigger.’