Seeking a bit of normality, she checked her phone messages. Alessandro had called to invite her to have dinner with him and Christy. “Keep the faith, Lizzie,” he had said. “We know you haven’t done anything wrong.” Lizzie felt the tears spring into her eyes and rubbed them away with an impatient hand.

There were no voicemails from either Bill or Kat. It was unprecedented. She thought they must both be really angry with her. Or more likely they were waiting for her to admit she couldn’t manage on her own and beg for help. She felt relieved she hadn’t succumbed to the temptation of asking Bill for help when she had been down by the river—although if the police came back again, she supposed she would have to call the lawyers. She had no clue how to do that without his help.

She felt a sudden sharp ache of loneliness. She wished Jules was there. How long would it take her to get back from France? She needed someone she could trust. She’d been lonely all her life in the deepest sense of the word, and she was used to it now, but sometimes it was hard.

She wandered into the living room. The chair where Johnny had sat still retained the dent of his weight. Lizzie sat down opposite, as she had done earlier in the evening. The silence of the flat pressed closer on her. She could hear it, actively, as though it were breathing. It felt oppressive, smothering. She needed something to steady her and help her fight off the irrational waves of fear and reaction that were starting to swamp her. She needed to ground herself. She reached for the golden oak leaf-shaped necklace but it wasn’t around her neck. She knew she had been wearing it earlier when she had been packing her bags. The links were very old and worn; perhaps she had dropped it in her bedroom. Jumping up, she hurried down the corridor.

The blank panels of the bedroom door confronted her. That was odd. She knew she had left it open. She hesitated, feeling fear tiptoe up her spine. Had someone broken in to the flat whilst she and Johnny were out? But that was impossible; the flat was like a fortress. No one could get in.

She threw the door open. The room was in darkness. She’d left it with all the lights on. The snap of the switch sounded loud in the quiet and when the light flooded the room again it seemed brighter than ever. Nothing was different. Nothing had changed. Lizzie thought she must have turned out the lights and closed the door after all, and that she was losing her mind. She’d been sure...

Then she saw the jewel box. It was a big old bronze box that was another vintage piece she had inherited from her grandmother. She’d left it on her dressing-table whilst she’d been packing, intent on selecting a few bits and pieces to take with her when she’d finished choosing her clothes. Now, though, it was lying on its side on the bed, the contents scattered across the duvet. Lizzie stared. Her first thought, that it had been a burglary after all, was almost immediately followed by the realisation that nothing was missing. All her really valuable stuff was in the safe anyway, and she could see the diamond earrings she’d bought in Hong Kong and the gold bracelet she’d picked up in a souk in Dubai...