Contents ( 57)
- Prologue
- One
- Two
- Three
- Four
- Five
- Six
- Seven
- Eight
- Nine
- Ten
- Eleven
- Twelve
- Thirteen
- Fourteen
- Fifteen
- Sixteen
- Seventeen
- Eighteen
- Nineteen
- Twenty
- Twenty-One
- Twenty-Two
- Twenty-Three
- Twenty-Four
- Twenty-Five
- Twenty-Six
- Twenty-Seven
- Twenty-Eight
- Twenty-Nine
- Thirty
- Thirty-One
- Thirty-Two
- Thirty-Three
- Thirty-Four
- Thirty-Five
- Thirty-Six
- Thirty-Seven
- Thirty-Eight
- Thirty-Nine
- Forty
- Forty-One
- Forty-Two
- Forty-Three
- Forty-Four
- Forty-Five
- Forty-Six
- Forty-Seven
- Forty-Eight
- Forty-Nine
- Fifty
- Fifty-One
- Fifty-Two
- Fifty-Three
- Acknowledgements
- About the Author
- Also by Sharon Gosling
Edie walked to the shed and bent to pick up the torch, then used it to look inside.
‘Have you been sleeping in here?’
Gilly said nothing until Edie turned to look at her. The girl had her arms crossed, pulling Ezra’s coat even more tightly around her. She looked, suddenly, very young.
‘I didn’t use anything except stuff that was lying around and that I wouldn’t break,’ Gilly said. ‘I haven’t taken anything. You can check.’
Edie looked back into the shed, at the pathetic little nest made of her roll of weed matting. There was a plastic bag of neatly folded clothes set to one side, the ones she’d washed for Gilly herself.
‘Let me get my things,’ the girl said. ‘I won’t come back, I promise. But I really need my things. Please.’
‘And then you’ll go where, exactly?’ Edie asked.
Gilly didn’t answer. When Edie looked at her, the girl wouldn’t meet her eye, but she shrugged.
Edie stepped back from the shed and held out the flashlight. After a second Gilly took it.
‘Gather everything up,’ Edie said. ‘I’ve got a spare room. You can move into that.’
‘I don’t want your spare room,’ Gilly said.
Edie turned to look at her. ‘Fine. Whatever. But it’s raining and it’s late, and you can’t tell me that you’ve got somewhere else you can go right this minute. I suggest you take the offer tonight and then tomorrow you can do whatever the hell you want. All right?’
They stared at each other through the rain.
‘All right,’ Gilly said eventually.
Edie nodded once and headed for the print room.
‘I swear to God if you leave mascara on the pillows I will let Dora McCreedy do whatever she damn well wants with you. And shut the garden gate, would you? I don’t want any more uninvited guests tonight.’
She was halfway down the path when Gilly started to follow.
‘I’ve never worn mascara in my life,’ she said.
‘Well,’ said Edie. ‘Thank the Lord for small mercies.’
Twenty-Three
It was early evening and Toby was sitting at the table in the kitchen of his cottage, his finished bowl of thrown-together spaghetti and pesto pushed to one side, his wine glass topped up, his laptop in front of him. Since their unravelling of the camera obscura mystery, he’d stopped spending so much time after hours with Rachel at the bookshop, and instead he’d gone, rather reluctantly, back to fiddling with his own lacklustre manuscript.
Alan Crosswick had called Toby to thank him personally for his efforts, but said he didn’t want to take up any more of the journalist’s time.
‘I enjoyed it, to be honest,’ Toby told him. ‘What are you going to do about the camera obscura?’
‘Not sure yet,’ the solicitor had said. ‘Whatever happens, it’s not my decision to make anyway until I know for sure there’s no heir out there. We’re still looking. I’ll keep Rachel posted, and I’m sure she’ll keep you in the loop.’