Page 5

5

THE DAY BEFORE THAT THURSDAY

Lilah

Grief was so strange. Lilah had been very young when her mother died, and she didn’t really remember how she’d felt then. Since losing Dad, she went through cycles of feeling almost normal, and then being hijacked by sadness so overwhelming that she felt as if she were being erased from the world. And she was so tired, as if nothing had any point anymore.

But, as Zachary quite rightly said, she couldn’t spend all day lying in bed crying.

She was living in a suite in the Dorchester next to Hyde Park. This wasn’t something she would have chosen for herself—she would have been satisfied with the Premier Inn in Chislehurst, or if she wanted to be extravagant, a Marriott—but Zachary insisted on a five-star hotel. “You need to get away,” he had said, “be surrounded by life and people. And it’s so much easier to have you in town, especially if I need to work late.” He was working as a consultant in cyber security for a bank in the city, and often worked late. But he made sure he ate dinner with her as often as he could and checked up with her on the phone multiple times every day, because he missed her.

They had room service sent up to the suite. She didn’t feel like eating most of the time, but it did her good to sit at a table with Zachary and force down at least a few mouthfuls.

Tonight, she was having the soup again. Zachary was having steak and a salad. It was nice he took the time to have a meal with her. He always turned off his phone when he was with her, left his laptop at the office, so he could give her his full attention.

“Have a bite of this,” he said, holding out his fork to her. There was a piece of steak on it. Rare.

“No thanks.”

“You’re wasting away, darling. You need some protein and some iron.”

“I’ll take a multivitamin.”

“That won’t give you protein. Here. Just a bite. Do it for me?”

The steak was still bloody. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth. The meat tasted metallic, animal. It was too chewy and at the same time too soft. Little fibers lodged themselves between her teeth.

She swallowed as quickly as she could, feeling it go down her throat in a lump. She opened her eyes and gulped water.

“That wasn’t too bad, was it? Don’t you feel stronger already?”

Lilah nodded doubtfully. She worried a bit of meat caught between two molars with her tongue.

“Tomorrow you should try ordering something other than soup,” Zachary said.

Her mouth still tasted of blood. “I’ll try some pasta,” she said.

“Carbs are terrible for you.”

“I’m not sure I can manage anything else.”

“At least try it with meat sauce, darling.” He cut another piece off his steak. He had a point: he was older than her but so healthy. Practically glowing with it.

“Anyway,” she said. “I’ve been thinking that I’d like to go back home.”

“Hmm,” said Zachary, chewing. “Is that a good idea?”

“I don’t know. But it’s my home. I can’t avoid it forever. I have to come to terms with what happened, I think. And I can’t do that sitting in this hotel, reading books.”

“I thought sitting in a luxury hotel reading books was your idea of heaven.”

“Well, yes. But I also miss Dad. I want to be in a place that reminds me of him. This suite is like...a Wedgwood prison. And I think it would be a good idea for me to go back to work.”

Zachary put down his fork and knife. He took a sip of water, and he smoothed his napkin on his lap. It was all cloth napkins here and Zachary was so meticulous. It was one of the things she loved about him.

“Actually, darling. There’s something I’ve been wanting to bring up with you, but I wasn’t sure how to do it.”

“What’s that?”

“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe I’ve spoken too soon. Maybe I should wait until you’re a little stronger.”

“Wait for what?” Lilah asked, feeling uneasy.

“I just...maybe I’m being overprotective. But I’ve waited all my life to find you, Lilah. I couldn’t bear it if anything were to happen to you.”

“Happen to me?”

He sighed. “Have you ever wondered...if maybe what happened to your father wasn’t just a robbery gone wrong?”

Lilah shook her head. “No one would ever want to hurt Dad on purpose. I don’t believe that. That’s what I told the police.”

“No, not that someone wanted to hurt your father. I agree that your dad couldn’t make an enemy if he tried. Maybe it’s because I love you so much, but I can’t help wondering if the real target wasn’t your father...but you.”

She nearly dropped her spoon. “Me? Why?”

“You were working late that day. If you’d been following your regular schedule, you would’ve been home that afternoon when the breakin happened.”

She’d thought of this herself, mostly in the small hours of the morning when she couldn’t sleep. If she hadn’t volunteered to lock up for Jimiyu, if she hadn’t lingered over closing the library...she could have been at home. She could have done something.

Her dad might still be alive.

“The robbery theory just doesn’t make sense to me,” Zachary was continuing. “Why would someone break in at random in the middle of the day? They hardly walked away with anything, either. A couple of laptops and a TV. If they’d done even the most cursory of research beforehand, they would have known that you didn’t have lots of cash and electronics in the house.”

Lilah didn’t like talking like this, as if her dad’s death was part of a murder mystery in a book, and not something that had really happened and was the most painful thing in her life. But Zachary was talking about it because he was concerned for her, so she went along with it.

“Maybe they didn’t do any research,” she said. “Maybe it was opportunistic. That’s what the police said.”

“The murderer did enough research to know that you didn’t have any cameras or an alarm system. And opportunistic thieves are people like junkies, who need money fast. Whereas you’re on a private road, in an exclusive neighborhood.”

“Well that seems like all the more reason to rob it.”

“No, whoever broke in was organized. They’d planned it. Watched the house.”

“Oh God this is horrible.” Lilah pushed away her bowl of soup.

“Terrible,” agreed Zachary, reaching over to take her hand. “But that’s the way my brain works. I like to look at things logically, step by step. But you’re in shock, so you’re not able to think logically, my poor darling.”

“So why do you think it happened?”

“As I said. I think we have to look at the possibility that whoever did this awful thing was actually trying to hurt you instead of your father. You were supposed to be home at that time, after all. I think it’s possible that they broke in and were looking for you. And that when you weren’t there, they attacked your father.”

“But why? Why would someone be looking for me?”

“Well. You’re so wonderfully modest that sometimes you forget that you are a very wealthy woman. And some people, they see a wealthy woman, and they think, I want a piece of that . They could have been breaking into your house to try to get access to your bank accounts, for example. To force you to give them your passwords and access codes, or transfer money to them. Or to kidnap you, for ransom. Or, God forbid, to punish you for being lucky.”

“People don’t do things like that,” said Lilah, though there were shelves upon shelves of books in her library that said that they did.

“You have millions and millions in the bank.” Zachary lowered his voice. “And what did you do to earn them? You chose a few numbers. People are envious. Especially when they think that someone has something that they don’t deserve.”

“But that’s how the lottery works . It’s not for whoever deserves it most, it’s literally by chance. And I don’t even want most of this money. Dad and I had been making plans to give the lion’s share of it to charity, we just have to deal with setting up trusts and all the taxes and things.”

“Of course. Of course, you’re a good person. And you do deserve that money. Every penny, my love, even though some people might say you don’t.” He squeezed her hand. “But there are bad people out there. And I’m worried that some of them may have it in for you. That’s one of the reasons why I wasn’t keen on you talking to lots of people at the funeral.”

He had been very protective of her during the funeral. He’d never left her side. And he’d stuck right with her every single time she’d spoken to the police, holding her hand, keeping her strong.

She chewed on her lip. “Dad and I did our best to keep the lottery win out of the media.”

“Well...you did after I met you, and I explained how important privacy is. And then that photo got out anyway to the press, after your father died.”

Zachary had been so angry about that photo being published, raging about violations of privacy. It had been a nice photo, though, of her and Zachary and her dad on holiday. She was glad the media had got hold of that one, at least.

“But that would mean that if someone did have it in for me, it would be someone I knew. I can’t believe that’s true.”

“Everyone who really knows you can’t help loving you,” agreed Zachary. That was a little overenthusiastic—Lilah generally felt that people, other than her dad, found her inoffensive rather than inspiring of love. And Evil Alice seemed positively to hate her. But he was her fiancé, after all, and he might be biased.

He added, “But we can’t discount the possibility that someone is following your movements. And that you’re in danger.”

“Do you think we should tell the police?”

He smiled. “I love that you have such faith in institutions. It’s utterly charming.”

“Shouldn’t I? I work for a public institution.”

“And is it always managed properly, for the benefit of the public?”

She thought about the Monday closures. The slashed budgets. “Well. No.”

“I won’t feel good about you being back in your home until we’ve installed a full security system.”

“Yes, that’s a good idea. If I’d had cameras and an alarm installed before all of this happened...”

The idea made her feel sick. She could have prevented her father’s death, if she’d been a bit savvier.

“It would have been wise,” agreed Zachary.

“Yes,” she said, with more conviction. “I’ll start doing some research and get some quotes.”

“Better late than never.” He squeezed her hand and beamed at her, and Lilah managed a smile back. “But you don’t have to make the calls. I have contacts in the security industry.”

“I thought you worked in cyber security.”

“Yes, well, it’s all connected obviously.”

“Oh.”

“I can sort it all out for you. A full security system for your home, so you can be the safest you can possibly be. State of the art. I’ll get in touch tonight, and they can start tomorrow first thing.”

“Are you sure, Zachary? You’re so busy with your own work.”

“You’ve got enough to think about right now. Leave it to me, I’ll arrange everything. It’s the least I can do for the woman I love.”

“You’re so good to me,” she said. “I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve it.”

“I’m just like any man. I want to protect you. Nobody’s going to hurt you on my watch. Meanwhile, promise me that you’ll be careful, okay? Be aware of your surroundings. I know you’re a little daydreamer, always with your head in the clouds. In fact, I got you this. I want you to carry it from now on.”

He pushed a small cylinder across the table. She picked it up.

“Careful!” he said, and she held it at arm’s length.

“What is it?”

“It’s pepper spray. For self-defense. You should carry it at all times when you leave the hotel. Don’t show it to anyone, though; it’s illegal in the UK.”

She put it down quickly. “I don’t want to do anything illegal.”

“It’s okay, darling. It’s mostly for my peace of mind. I’m sure you’ll never even have to get it out of your bag. In any case, there’s no need for you to go out—you can get anything you need sent to the room.” She glanced around. This place was all soft upholstery and glossy surfaces. When she ventured out into the public areas of the hotel, the staff were polite and unobtrusive, and no one else seemed to pay any attention to her. But, if Zachary was right, she’d been oblivious to threats all along.

And because of that, her father was dead.

* * *

Zachary took the keys to Lilah’s house, telling her that he’d set up a meeting with the security team. “Don’t worry about anything,” he told her before he left. “Before you know it, we’ll have your house as safe as the Bank of England.”

She picked at her room service breakfast while she finished the book she was reading, a history of the bloody history of Koh-i-Noor diamond. Thinking about it rationally, this was probably not the best book for her to have chosen. It was fascinating, but she didn’t need any reminders of the violence, tragedy, greed, and human suffering that was attracted by great wealth.

She needed something more cheerful.

Lilah looked through the stacks that she’d had delivered to the hotel. They took up most of the glossy desk in the seating area of the suite. She’d never been one for ebooks—she liked the feel and smell of a book, she liked its heft in her hand, and the satisfying action of turning the pages. But none of the books in her to-be-read pile quite hit the spot. She wanted something comforting and predictable and warm, that reassured her about the goodness of human nature.

All at once she knew the exact book she wanted. Anne of Green Gables . She hadn’t read it since she was a little girl, when she read it obsessively. She still owned her childhood copy of it, a worn hardback whose paper cover was tatty around the edges. It was sitting in her house right now, in her own library, on a shelf on the left-hand side as you walked in the door. She could picture its location exactly, in with the other M s, for Montgomery.

She could get an Uber and pick it up. She’d be in and out within seconds. But...Zachary had her keys. And he’d said it wasn’t safe yet for her to go back.

She picked up her phone to text Zachary and ask him to pick it up when he was at her house this afternoon. Hours from now. And then it would be hours until he came back for dinner. And what would she do in the meantime?

“This is silly,” she said aloud to the room. “I have over sixty million pounds. I can just go to a bookshop.”

So she did.

* * *

Lilah loved bookshops almost as much as she did libraries. In some ways, she loved them more. Although that made her feel guilty, because libraries were free for everyone, and you needed money to buy books.

No, she loved both the same.

Her father had introduced her to bookshops, just as he’d introduced her to libraries. When he’d taken her to the children’s section of the library near their bungalow in Sidcup, presided over by a friendly woman called Mrs. Johnson, she was allowed to take out five books at once. When he’d taken her to the local bookshop—it was only a newsstand with a small selection of books for sale, but it was magical to Lilah nonetheless—she could only buy one book with money saved from her allowance. But she could keep that book forever and read it as many times as she liked, whenever she wanted.

She still had that first book. She had all the books she’d ever bought.

She had bought her copy of Anne of Green Gables in a different bookshop, a wonderful bookshop called Cuthbert & Binding in a tiny alley just off Charing Cross Road. Her father had brought her there. This bookshop, unlike the local Smith’s, was in an old building and rambled over several floors, with narrow corridors lined with more books than you could read in a lifetime. Some books were new, and some were second-hand, and some were even rare first editions, kept behind glass. But the other books, you could touch and open and read. There were tall shelves and cozy reading nooks. There were potted plants and illustrations from favorite stories on the walls.

Lilah had got lost in that bookshop—not only lost in the stories in the books, but literally lost. Her father hadn’t been able to find her. Worried, he’d asked the shop assistant to help, and they’d combed the shop for a short little girl with skinny legs, finally finding her curled up on the very top floor in a forgotten corner stacked with discounted and slightly out-of-date Survey maps, reading about a Canadian orphan.

Lilah took the subway to Leicester Square station and found the bookshop alley just where she remembered it, along the back of a theater. It was narrow, with wooden and gilt signs hanging from the buildings and book lovers scurrying back and forth, peering in windows, carrying their latest treasures under their arms.

Instantly, she felt herself relax. For the first time in days and days she felt the presence of her father rather than his absence. She remembered when she was a little girl and he’d taken her hand and led her down this same alley. She followed their past footsteps to the shop and opened the door, inhaling the scent of old paper and words.

Every single time she would go into a bookshop for the rest of her life, she would think of Dad. Not as she’d last seen him—lying bloody and cold on the floor—but as he really used to be, smiling and gentle, with his clever hands and his soft, precise voice.

While that was sad, it was also pretty wonderful.

“Can I help you?” said someone.

Lilah realized she’d been standing in the doorway, eyes closed. The person who’d addressed her was a bookseller standing behind the register near the door.

“Oh,” she said. “I just love the smell in here.” She closed the door behind her.

“Me too. Can I help you find anything?”

“I’m looking for Anne of Green Gables .”

“Children’s books are on the first floor in the front. Would you like me to show you?”

“No thank you, I remember where they are.”

The stairs were rickety and comfortingly bowed in the middle from thousands of feet. She found the children’s section and happily browsed all the shelves starting with A. When she got to M, she found a lovely hardback edition of Anne of Green Gables with watercolor illustrations and gilt lettering, so perfect that she wanted to sit down and read it right there. But of course, she couldn’t do that when there were so many other books to look at.

Lilah had planned to pick up one book and then go back to the hotel, but by the time she reached the register, she had a stack of other books as well as the L.M. Montgomery. Including a book on the meaning of flowers that she would probably never read, but which her dad would have liked, and that she couldn’t pass by. Maybe she’d read it. Maybe she’d plant a little plot in the garden in his memory, with plants that meant love and kindness, and she could sit there and remember him.

“Hi again,” said the bookseller, scanning the books through the register. “Good choices.”

“Thank you.”

“ Anne of Green Gables was my mum’s favorite book. I’ve never read it, though.”

“Oh, you should! It’s full of such good people. It makes you feel like the world is going to be all right after all.”

He paused and gazed at her. He had dark natural hair and brown eyes and was about her own age. “I know you, don’t I?”

“Oh. No, I don’t think so?”

“Have you shopped in here before?”

“Not since I was a little girl. I work in a library, so I usually get my books there.”

“You look familiar,” he said thoughtfully. “I wonder where I’ve...”

She saw the exact moment where realization bloomed on his face. It was the same moment that she realized it too: he’d seen her photo in the paper. The same holiday snap of her and her father and Zachary, taken in Bournemouth, that the press had somehow got hold of. They printed it next to that terrible headline:

MILLIONAIRE LOTTERY WINNER’S DAD MURDERED

The bookseller looked down quickly. “That’ll be sixty-eight seventynine, please. Do you have a loyalty card?”

“Maybe, I—no, I don’t think—” She took her debit card out of her bag, slotting it into the reader and deliberately averting her face as she waited for the charge to go through.

“Um,” said the bookseller. “It hasn’t gone through.”

She typed in her pin again.

“Sorry,” said the bookseller. “It says declined.”

“Sorry,” she said, “I’ll try another card.” But when she checked her bag, her credit card wasn’t there. She remembered: she’d given it to Zachary to reserve her hotel room, and told him to keep it to pay for some of the security stuff for the house.

“Do you have payments set up on your phone?” the bookseller asked helpfully. She shook her head.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know you’re good for the money. In fact, you could buy this whole shop if you wanted to. If it were up to me, I’d let you take the books and pay us back later. But it’s not my shop.”

“It’s okay,” she said, hurriedly, stuffing her debit card back into her bag. “I don’t really need them right now.”

“There’s a cash machine down the road. Should I hold these...?”

“No no, no bother, don’t worry, thank you, goodbye!” She turned and rushed out of the shop, her cheeks flushing violently, her ears filled with the sound of her hammering heart.

She glanced backwards as she hurried down the alley, to make sure that the bookseller hadn’t called security or that no one else had seen what had happened. The pavement was empty, but she saw a man wearing a blue baseball cap leave the bookshop and stride quickly in her direction.

It was a coincidence. She ducked into Leicester Square station, hurried down the stairs, and tapped her card at the gate.

The display lit up: Seek Assistance .

Oh. Of course.

She turned around and the man in the baseball cap was directly behind her. He was much taller than her, with a thick chest and beefy arms that packed his jacket as tight as sausage.

“I’m sorry, excuse me, sorry.” She bowed her head and rushed past him, back up the stairs to the street. When she glanced over her shoulder, he was also walking up the stairs.

A black cab approached with its light on. She waved frantically at it, and it had slowed down before she remembered yet again that she had no money to pay for it. So she danced an elaborate pantomime to indicate that sorry, she didn’t need a cab after all, and to avoid the disapproving look of the driver she bolted across the road in front of him, dodging between cars going the other way, to join the throngs of tourists in Leicester Square.

Her phone was ringing in her bag, but she was in too much of a hurry to answer it. By the Mary Poppins statue, she looked back again. She thought she saw a blue cap by the performer dressed up as a levitating Yoda, so she walked faster. Sweat prickled under her arms and although she always wore comfortable shoes, she wished she’d chosen sneakers today instead of ballet flats.

For the first time it occurred to her that maybe this wasn’t bookshop security. Maybe it wasn’t a random person who happened to be going the same way as her, either. What if Zachary was right, and someone was after her?

What if she was in actual danger?

Her throat tightened. Phantom hands around her neck.

Her phone stopped ringing, then started again. Piccadilly Circus lay ahead of her, with its crowds and traffic. She walked as fast as she could, breaking into a run every few steps, dodging around pedestrians. In front of Eros, a tour group stood in a great cluster listening to their leader, who was holding an umbrella high in the air. Lilah squeezed between them, pushed through to the other side through a chorus of tsks , and ran across the road just before the light changed. Having safely gained the pavement on Piccadilly, she walked backwards for a few steps, searching the people behind her for a cap. What if she led him right to where she was staying? She had the pepper spray in her bag.

To her left ahead of her was Waterstones Piccadilly, with its black shiny awning. She hurried through its doors into blessed bookishness and pressed herself into the corner in front of the New Hardcovers section, watching the front window like a hawk.

Less than two minutes later, the man in the blue baseball cap walked by on the pavement outside. He was really quite large. She held her breath, but he didn’t seem to see her.

Her phone rang again. She pulled it out, eyes watching the street through the window. It was Zachary.

“Where are you?” he asked as soon as she answered.

He sounded so concerned that she couldn’t tell him about the man following her and worry him even more. “I’m in Waterstones Piccadilly,” she said hoarsely.

“I’ve been calling the room and you didn’t answer. And then you didn’t answer your phone. I was worried about you.”

“I’m alright.”

“You don’t sound alright. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

“I know when something is wrong, darling. What is it?”

“I...” She cleared her throat. “I had some trouble with my bank card. The card was declined at the bookstore.”

“Oh, poor darling! You probably demagnetized it. Were you trying to buy books? If you tell me the titles, I’ll order them for you and have them delivered, and you won’t have to worry.”

“No, it’s all fine. I just...don’t have any cash.”

“Well, you don’t need cash at the Dorchester. Are you on your way back there now?”

“Yes.”

“Call me as soon as you get there, from the hotel phone, so I know you’re safe? I worry so much.”

She promised and put down the phone. After five minutes more that seemed an eternity, and then she ventured outside the shop again, checking in either direction. No sign of him.

Her sense of direction was not great and she hadn’t spent much time in this part of London, but she did her best to take a circuitous route back to Park Lane, taking wrong turns and doubling back on herself. Zachary texted her four times while she was doing this, but she only replied with one-word answers. By the time she reached the Dorchester her mouth was dry and her feet were blistered.

She hurried through the lobby, head down, glancing from side to side. The lobby was generally pretty busy, but no one was wearing hats. How would she be able to tell a regular hotel guest from someone who wanted to hurt her?

Was she going to be looking over her shoulder for the rest of her life?

She waited until no one was near the elevator to get into it and rode up to her floor alone. The corridor was, thankfully, empty. She let herself into her room and collapsed on the bed, trying to slow down her breathing and heart rate.

She tried to think rationally. Maybe the man in the blue baseball cap was, after all, a fellow book lover who happened to be going in the same general direction she was. Though wouldn’t a book lover have stopped at Waterstones? No, maybe he’d already bought the books he wanted? But he wasn’t carrying any. But he could have been browsing.

Most likely she had totally overreacted, but the important thing was that no one was hurt and she was safe now. And once Zachary sorted out her home security, everything was going to be fine.

Lilah sat up and took a long cool drink from the complimentary bottle of water that the housekeeping staff left on her bedside table every time they made up the room. (They tried to do it every day, but she thought it was ridiculous that they should be tidying up her messes, so she tried to remember to keep the DO NOT DISTURB sign on.) She reached for the hotel phone to call Zachary.

She wouldn’t tell him about the man in the blue baseball cap. It was nothing, and she didn’t want to worry him. And also, she had sort of lied to Zachary before when she said everything was fine, and it would be difficult to justify that.

Although...was it a bad thing to keep secrets from your fiancé?

Her phone pinged again with another text, probably from Zachary, and she checked it before she rang him, to make sure he wasn’t going into a meeting or anything. Sometimes he got cross when she interrupted him at work.

The message, though, wasn’t from Zachary. It was from an unknown number.

LILAH. YOU ARE IN DANGER.