She would keep her knife on her tonight, in case she got hold of the Bridge and Costain tried to take it, in spite of all his promises. She was prepared to hurt him. She wouldn’t back away from that possibility. She was doing this for Dad, and she wasn’t going to stop now.

Alongside that, it was also going to be their third date. If he was being honest, if he was now genuinely on her side, they might end up together, might get to celebrate together. The possibility of that had turned her on all day, whenever she thought about it. She’d even gone out and bought some underwear.

It almost made her smile. Talk about all or nothing.

When he arrived, she opened the door to him and would have been happy to let him kiss her. But he didn’t. He looked calm and serious and committed to her cause. The librarian look he once again sported helped with that. ‘Let’s get this done,’ he said.

*   *   *

The map on the card had surprised Ross when she’d compared it to Google Maps. The location given hadn’t looked promising when she’d checked it out in person, either. But she supposed it made a sort of sense.

How thin the Millennium Bridge across the Thames felt as they walked over it that evening. Perhaps it was because with every step Ross felt something enormous growing all around her. The sun was still a way above the horizon behind her, making her shadow sharp on the new stone. The full moon was in the sky ahead, the base of it still hidden behind the buildings. She found that Costain, beside her, had slowed his walk too. She looked over the rail, to the river itself. It was sparkling in the combined light, a reminder of the great river of silver and gold that lay beneath all things in London. Tonight it felt as if it was simmering with the million sparkles on its surface, preparing, flexing like a muscle. It was uniting with the sky above, creating this enormous sensation of a waiting, observing, presence.

She could feel London tonight as if she had her palms against the heart of a wild animal. She could sense it watching them. She supposed it was because she herself was on the edge of a precipice. Maybe all Londoners felt it at times like these. Maybe this was how some of the Privileged felt all the time. It wasn’t the first time she’d thought of them as lucky. This was the truth that was under everything.