Yet here she was, sitting in a pub across the road from where her father used to work, with two people who used to be such a huge part of her childhood, only to disappear as soon as tragedy struck. Nothing more than a token letter or a gift sent through the post from afar. As if Emily had only ever been important when attached to her mother.

“I assume you’ve solved the first clue?” Adrianna smiled at Emily, only it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

“Hatchards.” Emily nodded as she sipped her drink and tapped her fingers against the underside of the table in sync with the beat of her heart.

“I thought as much. Margot always said you spent more time there than you did at home, which is why, I suppose, Catriona put it in the very first book.” She reached across to put her hand on Emily’s knee, pretended not to notice when she moved away. “Is it true she was working on another one before…you know?”

“Before she died, Mum.” Tyler drained his pint, banged the empty glass on the table. “She won’t crumple into pieces just because you mention it.”

Adrianna narrowed her eyes at her son, then turned her attention back to Emily.

“It’s rather exciting, this treasure trail, this puzzle you need to solve. Everyone keeps asking me about the book. It’s been all over the press, as I’m sure you know.”

Emily ran her fingertip around the rim of her glass, waited for the vibrations to take hold, to transform into one, pure note that echoed in the air.

“No doubt your phone has been ringing off the hook with demands from the press. But remember, we’re here for you if you need anything. Anything at all.”

“Thank you.” It seemed like the right thing to say, when really there was nothing she could say that could possibly explain how furious she really was.

Emily’s finger continued its circle around the glass, and she stared at it, let the repetition dampen the sounds of the room. If she could somehow cloak them all, with all their subtle insinuations of normal life, perhaps she could forget about the one she used to have.

Adrianna put her hand on top of Emily’s and held it there firmly, cutting off the note. “William sends his regards,” she said. “He’s very sorry he couldn’t make it today.”

“Since when does Dad apologize?” Tyler pushed back his chair, a cigarette ready and waiting between his lips, phone pressed tight to his ear as he yanked wide the door and stepped onto the street outside.

Adrianna watched him go. She sucked in her bottom lip, then picked at an imaginary piece of lint on her trousers. “He’s not been the same since, well…I’m not even sure that you know about what happened with his job?”

Emily had always found that people responded to her silence in one of two ways: with indifference, meaning they chose to say barely more than a few words before turning away to find someone more interesting to talk to; or, as with her darling godmother, they tried to fill the silence with babbling. Quite often, they would find themselves revealing things they otherwise might keep to themselves, as if Emily were some sort of confessional.