He walked inside, and although he’d been there before he was looking around him as if he was seeing it for the first time. I picked up my glass. “I’m drinking,” I said. “You want some?”

“All right.”

I poured him some wine and handed it to him. He took a gulp and pulled an approving face. He picked up the bottle and studied it. Then he raised his eyes and looked me squarely in the face. “Have you heard about Frances?” he said.

“What? Tell me.”

“She’s dead. She was murdered.” There was a pause. “You don’t look shocked.”

“I knew.”

“How?”

“I found the body,” I said. “I called the ambulance.”

Johnny was visibly startled. He stepped back as if I’d struck him. “You did? Then why weren’t you there when they arrived? Why didn’t you talk to the police?”

“I came straight home.”

“Why?”

“I wasn’t ready to talk about it.”

“I don’t think it works like that,” he said. “When you find a body, you’re meant to stick around, you know, talk to the police, that sort of thing.”

“There’s too much to explain.”

“Is there now?” He raised his eyebrows and a shiver of apprehension ran through me. “David rang me. One of the things he said was that the police want to talk to everybody involved. Apparently they’re having trouble tracking you down. For someone who’s been working in the office for several weeks, you haven’t left much trace.”

“I wasn’t on the books,” I said.

“No address. No phone number.”

“You’ve got my address,” I said. “Why didn’t you tell them?”

I had a sudden sense of alarm. Had I miscalculated? Did anybody know that Johnny knew me? Did David?

“Is there any reason why I shouldn’t?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’ve been thinking about it.”

Johnny frowned at me. “I don’t understand this and neither do I like it. Not one bit. You found the body. What’s the problem with talking to the police about it? Don’t you want to help them? And why are you so difficult to track down? Is there anything you want to tell me?”

It may have been the memory of Frances’s body in my arms or the wine or the sheer tiredness, but I couldn’t spin any more lies, not just then. But I took a deep breath before I spoke, because I felt I was stepping out into a different sort of world and I was scared. My skin was cold with fear.

“I’m not Gwen,” I said.

“I don’t understand. What does that mean, you’re not Gwen?”

“It means that my name isn’t Gwen. There is a Gwen Abbott. She’s a friend of mine. I borrowed her name. Stole it.”

“I . . .” He stopped, his mouth hanging open as he stared at me.