I’m an ungrateful bitch, Lizzie thought, and gave Kat an extra-warm hug to make up for her thoughts.

“Are you ready to go, babes?” Kat was looking very smart, from which Lizzie judged that the press must be outside. She made no reference to Lizzie flouncing out on her and Bill the previous day, taking it in her stride the way she had dealt with so many other dramas in Lizzie’s life.

“Sure.” Lizzie picked up her gym bag. She still felt jittery and vulnerable, not wanting to face the waiting cameras. She straightened her shoulders. If Jules was here her cousin would tell her to get some steel in her backbone.

They went out into the foyer and Kat called the lift. It was so quiet in here, protected, soundless, a padded box. It was almost a shock when the lift doors opened and one of Lizzie’s neighbours, a hedge fund manager called Natasha, stepped out and smiled at her.

“Hi, Lizzie,” she said. “I guessed the paps were all here for you.”

“Sorry,” Lizzie said, cringing a little. “I seem to be bringing the place into disrepute.”

Kat looked up from her phone in surprise as though anyone would find press interest a problem and Lizzie and Natasha exchanged another smile as they passed.

There was silence again as the lift descended. Kat seemed engrossed in WhatsApp. Lizzie tapped her foot. The lift doors opened. Lizzie stepped forward.

“Whoa!” Kat caught her arm at the same moment that the noise and chaos hit like a tidal wave. Normally the security guards kept the press firmly outside the building but today the elegant marble-floored foyer was full of people. At least three uniformed security officers were struggling to restrain a slight blond youth in jeans and a grey hoodie who was fighting them off as though his life depended on it. Jason, the normally imperturbable duty manager, was shouting urgently down the phone whilst people flooded in from the street, taking pictures and videos.

“I want to see Lizzie Kingdom!” the boy was shouting. “I know she’s here. Let me see her!”

“Sir—” one of the security guards was saying. “I’m asking you to stop fighting and lower your voice—”

“Shit,” Kat said. She had frozen on the spot, her hand still resting on Lizzie’s arm. “That’s Johnny Robsart, Amelia’s little brother.” She hit the doors open button and tried to drag Lizzie back into the lift but it was too late; it had shot off back up to the top floor. “Shit,” Kat said again, “this is a mess.”

Johnny struggled out from beneath the weight of security and stared straight at Lizzie. She could see in the teenager the child she had met just the once, at Amelia and Dudley’s wedding. The planes and angles of his face had sharpened and he was painfully thin. The wide blue eyes she had thought she remembered had darkened and reminded Lizzie of Amelia, although Amelia had always referred to her eye colour as lilac. Johnny’s skin was so white it was almost translucent and there were purple smudges beneath his eyes. For one long moment they looked at each other and Lizzie felt the shock of his grief and anger like a physical blow. Then as he started forward towards her, one of the guards caught him in an arm lock and wrenched him backwards.