The envelope was identical to the one Tyler had given her on the train. An envelope that, no doubt, contained another diary entry from her grandmother’s past. Another clue, another insight into whatever message it was Emily was supposed to be grasping hold of but felt as if she was simply flailing about in the dark, completely ignorant of why she was being sent to Paris, to a woman she had only spoken to once.

“Why this book?” Tyler picked it up, turned it over as if seeking out a clue, and Emily frowned at the question. “I mean, why would Aunt Cat choose this book, if it’s not set in Paris?” he said, peering closer at the front cover, looking from the depiction of Ophelia to Emily and pausing. “What’s the connection? The first book actually has Hatchards in it, it’s where Ophelia first finds the magical atlas, but this one’s set on a ranch in California, so why aren’t we going there?”

“Because it’s not real.”

None of it was real. Catriona had made up stories as a way of showing Emily the world. It was her way of teaching Emily about life, about fear, about everything she thought her granddaughter needed to know.

“I get that, but surely there’s a connection between the books, other than the obvious fact it’s all about Ophelia? There has to be. Otherwise it’s all so random.”

Nothing was ever random as far as Catriona Robinson was concerned. Each plot point, each detail in every book was meticulously planned before she ever started writing the actual story. Which meant the quest, the treasure trail, would have been planned just as meticulously. Nothing would be left to chance. There was a meaning behind each and every clue. Each and every book had been chosen for its own, specific purpose.

“Google,” she said, pointing to Tyler’s phone.

“You want me to Google the significance of why she chose these two books?” he asked with a frown. “Emily, all that’s going to come up is a whole heap of photographs of you looking scared while stood in the middle of a bookshop.”

Emily snatched his phone away, opened up the Internet and tapped in the name of a painting that hung in the Louvre, behind what some would consider the most famous portrait of them all.

She showed the picture of Marriage at Cana to Tyler.

“I don’t get it,” he said, then waited as Emily began to type something on his phone, looked closer to read out the words that contained her explanation. “This is the painting that hangs on the wall opposite the Mona Lisa,” he read. “It depicts the first miracle of Jesus, when he turned water into wine. It’s a masterpiece, but no one ever goes into that room to look at it.”

She couldn’t stop watching him as he spoke, at the way one of his bottom teeth stuck out, just a fraction.

“Grandma took me there once,” he went on. “Then decided to put it in her story.”