Keep Your Eyes on Me E-Book

Sam Blake

• Herausgeber: Corvus
• Kategorie: Abenteuer, Thriller, Horror
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 535

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2020

Beschreibung

· · A NUMBER ONE IRISH TIMES BESTSELLER · · 'Pacey and exciting and totally joyous.' Jo Spain, author of The Confession ________________________ You won't be able to look away When Vittoria Devine and Lily Power find themselves sitting next to each other on a flight to New York, they discover they both have men in their lives whose impact has been devastating. Lily's family life is in turmoil, her brother left on the brink of ruin by a con man. Vittoria's philandering husband's latest mistress is pregnant. By the time they land, Vittoria and Lily have realised that they can help each other right the balance. But only one of them knows the real story... 'Delightfully dark and satisfying' Roz Watkins, author of the DI Meg Dalton series

Leseprobe

Sam Blake is a pseudonym for Vanessa Fox O’Loughlin, the founder of The Inkwell Group publishing consultancy and the hugely popular national writing resources website Writing.ie. She is Ireland’s leading literary scout and has assisted many award-winning and bestselling authors to publication. Vanessa has been writing fiction since her husband set sail across the Atlantic for eight weeks and she had an idea for a book.

Also by Sam Blake

Little BonesIn Deep WaterNo Turning Back

First published in trade paperback in Great Britain in 2020 by Corvus, an imprint of Atlantic Books Ltd.

Copyright © Sam Blake, 2020

The moral right of Sam Blake to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act of 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities, is entirely coincidental.

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Trade Paperback ISBN: 978 1 78649 838 0E-book ISBN: 978 1 78649 841 0

Printed in Great Britain

CorvusAn imprint of Atlantic Books LtdOrmond House26–27 Boswell StreetLondonWC1N 3JZ

www.atlantic-books.co.uk

For Sandra – without whose magic nothing would add up

And Emmet – the reader all writers would kill for(and who was born to play Hamlet)

‘People do not change, they are merely revealed’

– Anne Enright

Chapter 1

THE SUDDEN POUNDING on the front door was followed by repeated ringing of the doorbell. Lily Power pushed her tortoiseshell glasses up her nose and looked up from the newspaper she’d been reading. The ringing didn’t stop. Or the thumping. She put her mug of tea down on the kitchen table with a crack. What the—?

She wasn’t expecting anyone. And how had someone got through the street door and found their way up five floors to the tiny staircase that led to her attic flat? Fear crackled through her as the banging started again. Whoever it was, was clearly hitting a ten on their own panic scale.

This was central London, only a two-minute walk from the Euston Road, and Lily was alone. Both her flatmates had left first thing this morning; she’d heard them clattering in the kitchen, then the front door slamming. Twice.

She was all on her own and there was some lunatic at the front door.

Panic began to rise and Lily felt her mouth go dry. She’d literally just been reading about the increase in violent crime in London, about moped gangs and stabbings. About addicts who called to the door and mugged the householder before robbing the place. Was that what was happening now? It was already dusky outside, would be dark soon. Lily felt her chest tightening.

The banging stopped as suddenly as it had started, as if the person was exhausted. After all the noise, the silence gaped.

Lily slipped out of her chair, the sound of her own heartbeat drowning out any noises that might be coming from the other side of the door, along with the usually comforting distant roar of traffic and the creak of the old building.

She tiptoed across to the open kitchen door, the lino cold on her bare feet, her toenails painted a deep purple that matched the faded floral carpet in the narrow hallway. Her earrings tangled in her long auburn hair as she tipped her head to hear better.

Could she hear someone crying?

Suddenly there was another thump on the front door. Low down, near the floor. Lily felt herself jump what felt like a foot in the air. Who the hell was it?

If someone was really coming to rob the place, would they bang on the door? What if one of her flatmates or someone from one of the flats downstairs had been attacked and needed help? Lily couldn’t just leave them out there if something was wrong. What if they’d collapsed and were lying bleeding on the doorstep?

She tried to curb her overactive imagination; it had a tendency to run off on its own and right now it was in overdrive.

Tiptoeing down the corridor to the front door, she peeked through the spyhole. She couldn’t see anything, but she could definitely hear something. The snuffle of silent sobs?

Christ, she was going to have to open it. What if someone was lying out there injured? The last thump had sounded weaker, desperate, somehow.

Putting on the heavy safety chain as silently as she could, Lily held her breath and began to ease the door open, immediately feeling a heavy weight leaning against it, low down. The chain rattled taut.

‘Thank God …’ The voice was harsh and husky, but very familiar. She felt the weight lift from the door as the person on the other side moved away.

Jesus Christ.

Flicking off the safety chain Lily pulled the door open to find her brother Jack sitting slumped on the floor. His white dress shirt was open at the neck, and a black bow tie hung loose under the collar. His suit was filthy, and his fringe, always too long, fell into bloodshot eyes.

‘Oh, Lily.’ His voice was little more than a croak. Perhaps that’s why he hadn’t just called to her through the door? As he turned to face her, he burst into tears.

Lily’s heart hit the floor. This was her gorgeous, good-looking, first-class-honours brother who never had to work for anything but who fought a constant battle with the storm clouds of depression. Brilliance had a flip side. When he shone it was dazzling, but when the weather changed … He’d been doing so well recently, making wonderful finds for the family shop and loving meeting new customers.

‘What on earth’s happened? Are you hurt?’ The words came out of her mouth as they went through her head.

Lily bent down to haul him to his feet, manoeuvring to hold him up as she put his arm over her shoulders. The corridor was barely wide enough for them both but she half-dragged him into the kitchen, while also trying to see if he was bleeding. Had he been stabbed?

‘Tell me what’s happened to you?’

Collapsing into the chair she’d just vacated, Jack put his elbows on the table and his face in his hands. She could barely hear when he spoke.

‘Not me. The shop. I’ve lost the shop. It’s gone. Everything’s gone.’

Her arm resting across his shoulders, Lily looked at him hard. He wasn’t making sense, and he smelled like an industrial distillery, which was obviously a contributing factor. How could he have lost the shop? You couldn’t lose a shop: it was bricks and mortar. What sort of party had he been at to end up in this state? Was he hallucinating? Had he taken drugs?

Rubbing his back, she skirted the table and leaning to flick on the kettle, she reached for the instant coffee. She needed him to sober up and tell her exactly what was going on.

Turning back to him as she waited for the kettle to boil, Lily was hit by a deep feeling of dread. His face was buried in his arms on the table now, and from the creases, it looked like he’d slept in his suit. She glanced at the clock – it was after four in the afternoon. Where had he been since he’d woken up in this state?

The kettle clicked off behind her and Lily made the coffee, strong, putting it down in front of him. The dread was turning to panic, her stomach churning and a dull pain spreading across her forehead.

But she knew she needed to keep calm. Whatever had happened, Jack was falling apart. One of them needed to stay in control.

‘Have some coffee and start at the beginning.’

Jack slowly raised his head, avoiding her eyes, his gaze firmly fixed on the mug. He put his hands around the thick earthenware like it was a lifebuoy.

‘I lost the shop.’ His voice was still little more than a croak. ‘Edward Croxley invited me to a poker game and—’

‘But you don’t play poker?’

Jack cleared his throat. ‘I do sometimes. With the guys from school. Usually the top stake’s a hundred quid.’

‘A hundred quid?’ Lily couldn’t keep the disbelief out of her voice.

Jack didn’t answer, just rubbed his hand over his face and pushed his thick strawberry blond fringe out of his eyes. As if he hadn’t heard her, he continued, ‘I don’t know how but I ended up putting the shop down in the game. I had a winning hand, I know I did, but then Croxley produced this running flush.’ He grimaced as if he was back there in the room, looking at the cards spread out on the table.

‘Croxley? You mean the Edward Croxley who used to organise those rave parties and got arrested?’

Jack nodded slowly. ‘He only got a suspended sentence for possession in the end. He deals in art now.’

Lily looked at him. ‘Only?’ Then it began to sink in. ‘You bet Grandpa’s shop? In a game of cards, and you lost it?’

‘I wanted to die when I woke up and realised.’ His voice dropped to a whisper. ‘I’ve been standing on Waterloo Bridge for hours looking at the water, trying to work out how to tell you. It was so dark. Like it was waiting for me. It felt easier than— Oh, Christ.’ He ran his hand across his eyes.

Lily adjusted her glasses and shook her head, hearing the words but not quite taking them in. ‘How? I mean, how can he have the shop?’

‘He made me write a promissory note. It was witnessed by the other guys in the game; one of them is a barrister. I had to give him the keys.’ His voice was so low she could barely hear him.

‘But all your stuff?’

‘Will probably be in bin bags on the pavement by now.’

‘And what about George?’

‘Oh, Christ, I never thought of George. I haven’t even fed him today.’ Jack hid his face in his hands again, his shoulders heaving. ‘I’m such a total fuck-up.’

Lily took off her glasses, laying them on the counter, and pushed her fingers into her hair, pulling it back off her face and holding it tightly at the back of her head, trying to steady herself. Her stomach was a tight ball of shock and fear, making her feel really sick. She looked at him, trying to find something positive to say. This wasn’t the time for shouting or recriminations – yelling at him wouldn’t help anything. She could see he felt as bad as he looked. He knew exactly what the consequence of this was. He’d lost his home, his job, the family business – a fourth-generation family business.

And he’d forgotten about Grandpa’s cat.

It couldn’t really get much worse.

Lily drew in a deep breath, fighting the nausea, trying to focus on what she could do to make this better. She needed time to think. But time was one thing she didn’t have.

‘Jack, I have to go to New York in the morning for this interview, but I’ll change my ticket so I get home earlier and we’ll sort this out.’ She picked up her glasses and put them back on, gripping the back of the chair hard as if it was a life buoy. ‘But first I need to find George and bring him here, and you need to eat. There’s a pizza in the freezer – I’ll stick it in the oven. You can sleep on the sofa here tonight and then have my room while I’m away. I’ll call that solicitor that sorted out Grandpa’s will and see what he says.’

Jack looked at his coffee cup again. ‘He won’t be able to do anything. Croxley got me pissed and cheated me out of the shop, and I was such a fucking idiot, I let him. I should have jumped. I couldn’t even do that right.’

Chapter 2

VITTORIA DEVINE FLUNG her cabin case onto the cream jacquard duvet cover and reefed open the zip, catching her nail in the process.

‘Merda.’

Reacting as much to her tone as to the unexpected arrival of the suitcase, Tchaikovsky, her huge black cat, dove off the bed, where he’d been sleeping, and disappeared under the dressing table. Vittoria barely noticed. White-hot rage was shooting through every vein, making her head pound. Marcus always joked that she exploded like Mount Etna at the slightest inconvenience, her Sicilian temper much too big to be contained in such a slight person. And right now that was exactly how she felt.

But this time it wasn’t just about him not coming home for dinner.

How could this even be happening?

The moment Vittoria had ended her call to the detective in London, she’d known she needed to get out of the house and out of Dublin. She needed to think. To really think this time. The plans she’d made so far hadn’t gone the way she’d wanted at all, and now this? This was a whole new level of treachery. She ran both her hands into her dark glossy hair and closed her eyes tightly.

After everything, how could Marcus have done this to her?

She’d known something was going on, something more serious than all the other times. She wasn’t sure why – maybe it was the calls, the absences: he’d been spending longer than usual in London at ‘meetings’ between flights for months now. Like today – he was supposed to be coming home this afternoon but he’d suddenly been called into a meeting apparently, and it was someone’s leaving do on Friday night so he wouldn’t be back until late Saturday. Vittoria scowled, remembering their hurried conversation following his text this morning. Even when he was at home in Dublin, he was decidedly distracted. She’d had a quiet word with Aidan Kelly, his best friend – well, he was friends with them both – but he hadn’t been able to tell her much. Then, a couple of months ago, it had suddenly hit her, the dual realisation this could be a serious affair and that she couldn’t take any more.

And worse, she couldn’t simply leave him.

Their prenup ring-fenced Marcus’s family properties and money, regardless of the reason for the split. She hadn’t looked at it in years but she knew it meant she’d have nothing. She should have known when she signed that she was being a total idiot. And now she was trapped like a bird in a jewelled cage, the bars legal documents weighted in favour of her husband, preventing her from taking her half of his family money, no matter why she left. She was only twenty-eight, for God’s sake – she couldn’t live like this.

Vittoria stared at her open suitcase, her mind whirling. Her first effort to find a solution had already been a total disaster.

Merda.

Hiring the detective had seemed like her only option after that, but what he’d turned up was so much worse than she’d imagined.

How could Marcus get involved with someone who would trap him like this? Like this?

Now she had to come up with a proper plan. One that worked – one that would save her sanity. And she needed to get away, to get some headspace so she could concentrate on making it work; she couldn’t afford another screw-up.

Vittoria picked up her phone from the bed and dialled the office. She hated to let down clients but she needed some time out. She couldn’t help with anyone else’s mental health unless she was in a sound place herself. And right now she felt like she was standing on the edge of a precipice, unknown waters churning below her. Her receptionist answered on the first ring.

‘The Devine Practice.’

‘Ruby, would you cancel my appointments for tomorrow and Friday, move them to Monday? I think there are only a couple, nothing serious.’ Vittoria fought to keep her voice calm.

If her receptionist was surprised, she didn’t show it. ‘Of course, will do. Will you be on the phone?’

‘Only for an emergency.’

‘Yana was on just after you left – she said something about an article coming out this weekend? To remind you in case we got swamped in calls.’

‘Oh, yes, I’d forgotten about that. It’s about her anorexia almost ending her career. I’ll call her. She was OK otherwise?’

‘Yes, very chirpy. We were chatting for ages. She’s absolutely loving being in Covent Garden. She’s sending you tickets to the opening night of Swan Lake – it’s next month, I think she said. She’s so excited – she said rehearsals are gruelling but it’s a wonderful interpretation.’

‘That’s good news at least, and thank you, Ruby. I’ll be in on Monday.’

Vittoria ended the call and stared at her phone for a moment. She spent her days listening to people’s problems, women like Yana, helping them through the minefield of body image, relationships and celebrity, and here she was, trapped and in trouble, and she didn’t know where to begin. She still couldn’t believe what she’d heard this evening. The absolute horror of it. The detective was so meticulous. Too meticulous.

Women didn’t get pregnant by accident these days. That just didn’t happen – had they planned it together? Maybe Marcus had finally found a bit of skirt that was more than mistress material. Maybe he’d been looking for a baby mama all these years and that’s what all the affairs had been about.

Vittoria felt suddenly very, very sick. She couldn’t let her head go there, couldn’t think that that could be a possibility.

As if echoing her mood, she suddenly felt the muscles in her lower back twinge and begin to knot. She rubbed the spot and stretched, waiting to see if it would spasm. The trauma of the car accident was locked away deep inside, but her body wouldn’t let her forget it. That or her shattered dreams that one day she would have children who would sail and ride and maybe dance, like she had. Memories began to bubble to the surface, and suddenly she was right back there as if it was happening all over again: their argument over him chatting up some girl at the party, her storming to his open-topped sports car, so angry she couldn’t get her seat belt buckled.

They hadn’t even been dating for long.

The scenes were like the stills from a horror film that played in black and white on the wall inside her head. Vittoria closed her eyes, breathing deeply, trying to fight the memories. The moment of impact, the pain and the black fog that had enveloped her like a thick, suffocating cloud of volcanic ash. Hearing Aidan’s voice as she emerged from the coma, the tears, hot on her face, as he told her what had happened.

At times like this it was a battle to keep the memories from overwhelming her – there were reminders of that night and her lost career everywhere, from the moment she put on the radio in the morning to the twinges in her pelvis after her daily swim.

A part of her darkened as memories jostled for attention, like ghosts crowding in. She still yearned for that life, for what she’d thought her future held. She’d dreamed of being a prima ballerina – just like Yana – all her life, remembered the elation when she’d won the scholarship to the Royal Ballet School. She’d been fourteen, her idea of boarding school coloured by Harry Potter, the stunning White Lodge in Richmond that was to be her home for the next four years like a regal Hogwarts where the magic was the music. She’d missed the Sicilian sunshine and the beach, but not enough to make her homesick – she hadn’t looked back from the moment she’d walked through the door.

And then she’d met Marcus, had literally bumped into him in Charles de Gaulle airport. She’d been on her way to an audition for a summer role in the chorus at the Paris Opera Ballet. Her plane had been delayed, and as she’d raced through the airport to find a taxi, she had literally run right into him, sending his coffee all over his uniform. He’d calmed her down and put her in a cab and, to her utter surprise, had been waiting outside the audition when she came out. He was older than her, but so charismatic. As they’d chatted over coffee, he told her how he’d skipped university, getting his commercial pilot’s licence instead and taking his love for speed and freedom to a career that paid him to enjoy his hobby. Six months later she’d been totally in love. And in intensive care.

He’d stuck by her, though.

And she thought he’d loved her.

There were days that had followed when her loss was just too painful to bear, days when she wanted to curl up and hide in a dark place away from the world. Only Aidan really seemed to understand. He’d known Marcus at school; Marcus had been there the day his little brother was killed. He was the only one who had any concept of what loss on this scale felt like, of what had been going on inside her head, that some days it was just …

And now this.

After everything. This.

But she needed to pull herself back to the here and now, to the beautiful house that had become her safe haven – the place where she’d swum and danced her way back to fitness – and to her cream and gold bedroom and the sleek hard-shell suitcase in front of her. To her successes not her failures. Getting back into the present was the only way she could deal with the past.

Fighting the memories, Vittoria rubbed her back, stretching again, feeling the muscles relax a tiny bit. Thank God. She turned and opened the wardrobe door, pulling out a red dress, deliberately looking at it for a moment, forcing her thoughts back to when she’d last worn it. The pencil skirt was fitted with a narrow black belt; it always made her feel fabulous and attracted no end of compliments.

Right now she needed as much fabulous as she could get.

Where had she worn it last? To dinner at the yacht club? No, it had been that TransGlobal Airways crew benefit dinner in New York. In the palatial Calvert Vaux Hotel. Marcus had had a fit at the price of the rooms so they’d stayed at the Barbizon instead. He’d told everyone it was because she’d wanted to stay where Grace Kelly had stayed.

Vittoria felt her anger boiling again. He didn’t scrimp when it came to his girlfriends. To one particular girlfriend. The jewellery, the dinners, the handbags. The detective had told her everything.

Yanking the dress off the hanger and tossing it in the case, Vittoria picked up her phone again and punched in her passcode with an impatient thumb. If Marcus could change his plans and stay in London at a moment’s notice, she could change her plans too. She pulled up The Calvert Vaux Hotel website. She needed to get away and she knew exactly where she’d stay this time.

Chapter 3

AS LILY SAT DOWN in the TransGlobal Airways business-class lounge in Heathrow, she still felt sick. All she could think about was Edward Croxley and Jack’s face yesterday. Could you actually kill someone without getting caught? She’d never felt more like murdering anyone in her life.

It was all such a mess.

As she’d left the flat this morning, she’d stuck her head round the living-room door. Jack had been out cold, still in his suit, lying half-on and half-off the sofa, a blanket tucked over him, George curled up on the end. The ginger cat had looked up as she opened the door, glaring at her with his one eye. Well, it looked like a glare. George had loved their Grandpa and now loved Jack and didn’t need anyone else in his life. He had made that perfectly clear from the moment he’d first arrived at Power’s Fine Prints and Books – she couldn’t remember how many years ago. Last night she’d found him easily, predictably lurking beside the bins behind the French restaurant a few doors down from the shop. He’d spat and scratched her as she’d closed the door on his cat box and then had run and hidden behind the TV as soon as she’d let him out. Her flatmates had been home by then and the explaining had started.

Lily took off her glasses and rubbed her eyes, yawning. None of them had got much sleep. She’d heard Jack moving around until about 3 a.m. and reckoned he’d passed out eventually from sheer emotional exhaustion.

This morning, the solicitor had confirmed what Jack had said. Worse, he’d pointed out that a highly respected member of the legal profession had witnessed the transaction in writing, and his insistence that a copy of the note was written out and witnessed for Jack’s benefit made the whole thing even more binding. They could fight it, obviously, but he didn’t think a judge would be very sympathetic.

The only saving grace was that the ‘shop’ reference, it could be argued, didn’t include Jack’s apartment on the top floor, so they still had that. But getting in without any keys was going to be a challenge. And if they did all end up in court, it would be expensive. Very expensive.

That was the biggest problem of all – they’d had to sell Grandpa’s house to meet the death dues, and the shop was hardly a gold mine. It gave Jack a salary of sorts but most of the assets were tied up in the property itself and the stock. The place was crammed with antique prints and books that Power’s had been acquiring for generations. Beautiful old prints that had been such an important part of their childhood and were now colouring Lily’s future. At least, the future she’d been praying for until Jack had arrived yesterday.

Around her the hospitality lounge began to fill with TransGlobal transatlantic passengers. Thoughts of Edward Croxley and the whole mess whirled in Lily’s head so much that she barely noticed a slightly overweight American sit down beside her. His dark suit was unremarkable in the sea of similar suits, his head bald, glasses poised on the end of his nose, but his nationality was somehow written all over him like a sign around his neck. Had she noticed him, Lily might have wondered why, with all the seats that were free, he had come to sit down right next to her.

The American opened his phone, switching it to camera mode.

But Lily was still busy with her thoughts. She could feel the pain that had been present behind her eyes since Jack had arrived in her flat beginning to grow again. The whole situation seemed more impossible the more she thought about it and now the tablets she’d taken were wearing off. She pushed her glasses up her nose and ran her hand across her forehead, smoothing her long hair into its thick ponytail. She had ibuprofen in her bag but it was a long flight. She needed to hold on until she got on board before she took more.

Edward Croxley’s name pulsed with the throb in her head.

She’d only heard it vaguely before yesterday, and now he was thundering through their lives like a forty-tonne container truck with no brakes.

Bastard.

She still couldn’t believe what he’d done, but it had happened, and she’d gone down every possible route in her head looking for a way to sort it out. There just wasn’t one. Jack had lost the shop and, essentially, his home, his job. Everything generations of Powers had worked for. Everything he’d worked for and loved. In one evening.

Lily’s stomach had been churning all the way to Heathrow and by the time the train doors had slid open she’d been feeling really sick. She wasn’t sure if the migraine that was threatening had been brought on by the shock or by pure anxiety. This was supposed to be the trip that changed her life, the chance of a lifetime. This massive opportunity had come to find her, and the next thing she knew, Jack was banging on the door of the flat, his world in tatters.

She’d barely been able to sleep from the day the email had arrived from No. 42’s human-resources director at their New York headquarters.

They wanted to offer her a job.

A proper job.

One that paid real money, doing the thing that she loved most in the world: designing jewellery. That just didn’t happen in real life.

They’d seen her final-year show at Central Saint Martins and wanted her to go over to New York for a ‘chat’, to see what she thought of the place, to see whether she’d like to work with their team. Part of her just wanted to scream yes. In all honesty, she’d do it for free, but that wasn’t very professional or businesslike. She really needed to start thinking like she was an award-winning graduate with a master’s in jewellery design from one of the most prestigious colleges in the world, and not like a desperate, broke student.

She still couldn’t really believe it. She’d spent those next few days after the email had arrived in a whirl, working out what to wear, thinking about what she needed to take with her, practising what she would say. It was New York, for God’s sake. No. 42 in New York.

And then Jack had arrived yesterday evening and told her what a swindling, despicable bastard dirt-bag Edward Croxley was. Lily didn’t have enough adjectives in her vocabulary for her complete and utter hatred of Edward Croxley. And she wasn’t even being dramatic.

Jack had literally wrung his hands as he’d sat at the kitchen table last night. He couldn’t look at her. He’d been about to jump off Waterloo Bridge. Her big brother. Lily felt tears prick her eyes. The shop was only a shop at the end of the day – yes, it was history, their history, it was their last link with their grandpa, but if losing it had seriously made Jack think about ending his life? That made this whole thing a big step-up from just being a total disaster.

If he’d jumped and she’d found out why, she wouldn’t even have bothered with the not-getting-caught bit of murder; she knew she’d have taken her sharpest pair of pliers and buried them in the middle of Edward Croxley’s slimeball back.

Lily could feel herself getting angry again at the thought – seething, red-raw anger that anyone could push her brother to the point of ending his life. That anyone could take the family business from them, the shop that was like their second home – just like that, in a flurry of cards.

Memories of the shop and their childhood jumped into her head, memories of sitting on the high stool behind an old-fashioned till, copying Victorian engravings of curling fern leaves from antique prints into designs of her own; memories of her grandpa’s hearty laughter, always there after their father had died. And a beautiful three-storey house in Islington and a one-eyed cat called George who hated her.

It was all gone now. Except George, of course. Jack’s livelihood, his home. All gone.

God he was such an unbelievable idiot. But Edward Croxley was an unbelievable shit.

Beside her in the hospitality lounge, Lily didn’t see the American lift his camera up high, taking a selfie that didn’t include much of him but did include a whole lot of her cleavage.

Still absorbed in her own world, Lily became vaguely aware in her peripheral vision of a dark-haired woman striding across the lounge. Petite, dressed in a simple navy sweater and leggings, she was carrying a black handbag that almost dwarfed her, and she looked like she was coming to sit down beside Lily. But as she reached them, the corner of her bag knocked into the American’s hand and his phone crashed onto the floor, the screen shattering on the tiled floor. Shocked, Lily tuned in, doing a double take.

‘Oh my goodness, how clumsy of me.’ The woman’s tone was laced with sarcasm, her accent a strange blend of somewhere European, Italian maybe, and cultured English. Despite her slight frame, she had a presence that drew the eye. Lily pushed her glasses up her nose, and as she tried to take the scene in, she caught the glint of an enormous diamond on the woman’s finger.

‘Jesus Christ! What is it with you British women?’ The American bent to pick up his phone. One of the lounge staff swept in from nowhere and, scooping it up, handed it to him.

The woman pursed her rosebud lips, slicked with a suggestion of gloss. Her heart-shaped face was elfin with a delicate pointed chin, but the fury in her eyes was unmistakable. Lily couldn’t work out why she’d be cross when she was the one who had caused the accident. The woman interrupted her thoughts, her tone so insincere Lily took a hasty look at the American.

‘I’m so sorry. I don’t know how I didn’t see you there. I’m sure you can get it repaired?’ She scowled. ‘But I’m afraid I am Sicilian.’ She drew the word out and filled it with such venom Lily could feel her eyes widening in astonishment. ‘So sorry to disappoint.’

The man glared at her and, scowling himself, stood up, picking up his briefcase. Lily was sure he would bark right back at her, but instead, he stalked off across the lounge. The attendant looked at the woman anxiously.

‘Are you OK, Mrs Devine? Was he …?’

The woman raised her eyebrows, her dark eyes connecting knowingly with the lounge attendant’s. ‘I think so. Again. We have many words for men like that in Sicily, but in Ireland they say sleeveen. It’s a good word, I think.’

The attendant rolled her eyes. ‘Can I get you both a drink? Perhaps some Buck’s Fizz?’

‘Oh, I’m not—’ Now completely confused by their exchange, Lily reached for her leather satchel, but the woman with the handbag patted the air as if to tell her not to worry and smiled at the attendant, her demeanour changing.

‘That would be lovely.’ She turned to Lily. ‘Do you mind if I join you?’

‘Please do, but I—’

‘It’s OK,’ sitting down beside her, the woman lowered her voice, ‘everything’s complimentary.’ She smiled. ‘Enjoy it. I’m sorry to intrude on you like that but that man is ...’ She rolled her eyes again, leaving the sentence unfinished. ‘He was trying to take a photo of you. An inappropriate photo.’

Lily’s mouth fell open. ‘I didn’t— Why?’

‘I guess it’s how he gets his fun.’ She shrugged, her face full of concern. ‘The air crew have constant trouble with him. He’s been warned that he’ll be banned from TransGlobal. That’s stopped him groping them, so now he latches onto female passengers instead. Hopefully not today.’

Lily’s eyes widened in horror, the full meaning of what had just happened suddenly registering. ‘Yuck. Well, thank you for intruding – I had no idea, I was miles away. I didn’t even know he’d sat down next to me.’

‘I could see that.’ The woman grimaced. ‘We shouldn’t have to deal with this sort of thing at all, but there are some very unpleasant people in this world. Are you a student?’

Unpleasant people? She had that right. Lily could think of one in particular.

Lily blushed hard. ‘A recently graduated student, trying to look like she travels business class every day. How did you guess?’

The woman smiled warmly. ‘You’re grand – you look perfectly at home. It’s nice to have someone to talk to who isn’t wearing a Savile Row suit.’

Lily smiled, hesitating nervously for a moment. ‘Do you fly a lot?’

‘Quite often, mainly for business, but my husband’s a pilot with TransGlobal, so I know all about Mr Hammerstein. Fortunately, I haven’t had the pleasure of meeting him too often, thank goodness.’

‘Thank you so much.’ Lily shook her head. How could she have missed that? Dear God, her Creepsville radar was usually very finely tuned. The absolute last thing she needed right now was getting harassed in mid-air. ‘I think I’m having one of those weeks.’ Lily paused. ‘It’s been a total disaster and then I was supposed to be flying with Delta but there was some problem and my ticket was switched …’

Lily sighed inwardly. Really nothing else could go wrong this week. It just wasn’t possible. Thank God this lady had intervened here. And, even better, it seemed she was able to help guide her through the complex world of business class air travel. Whatever about going to New York, she hadn’t got the job yet, and she’d looked longingly at the pastries on the buffet table when she’d arrived, wondering if she could afford them. But then she’d started thinking about Croxley and the rage inside her had literally blotted out her hunger. She needed to calm down, if only so she could work out what to do about Croxley a bit more rationally. There had to be something – some way of getting the shop back that she hadn’t thought of yet.

But this woman was a welcome distraction. She had that distinct European elegance, that Audrey Hepburn look that Lily had always admired but had never been able to work out how to pull off. Her dark hair was one length, thick, cut in a long bob, and she wore her sunglasses on the top of her head, casually holding it back. Lily took a discreet glance at her hand. The diamond was marquise cut, a really clear, pure colour, and had to be at least three carats.

‘Did you say you were Italian?’

The woman smiled. ‘Sicilian. But I’ve been living in Dublin for a long time and I went to school in England. Vittoria Devine – my husband’s actually the Devine, or so he’d like to think.’ She put out her hand, the diamond flashing again. Lily tried to stop herself from looking at it. Instead she put out her own hand.

‘Lily Power. My mum’s half-Irish. Well, she’s from Boston so really she’s American, but she thinks of herself as Irish – she lives near West Cork now.’

Vittoria smiled knowingly. ‘Some Americans are more Irish than the Irish. But Power’s an Irish name. We have Power’s Irish Whiskey. You must have lots of Irish blood.’

‘Way back my father’s family were Irish too.’

‘I can see it in your colouring, the red hair.’ Lily pushed her glasses up her nose and blushed. ‘You’d fit right in, in Dublin, much better than I do.’ Vittoria laughed. ‘I haven’t even picked up the accent.’

‘Oh, you have a bit. One of my friends in college is from Ireland and she says “grand” all the time. Whenever we meet I end up saying it too. I pick up accents too easily.’ Lily grinned. ‘You don’t sound very Italian, though.’

Vittoria pulled her sunglasses off her head and slipped one of the arms into the neck of her sweater, making herself comfortable. ‘I was very young when I left Sicily, and my dance teacher was English, so I’ve spoken both languages since I was able to walk. Sometimes I wished I sounded more like I was from somewhere.’

The attendant who had spoken to them earlier arrived with two tall slim glasses on a tray, her expression apologetic. ‘I’m afraid the flight’s been delayed by at least an hour. Can I get you something to eat?’

Chapter 4

‘GOOD MORNING, Miss Power, can I take your jacket?’ Lily looked at the flight attendant in surprise. How did she know her name? ‘Please, that would be great, where …?’

‘Don’t worry, I’ll drop it back to you when we land. Come and sit down and make yourself comfortable.’ She took Lily’s denim jacket.

Lily glanced back at Vittoria, grinning. ‘I’ll see you in New York.’ Her headache had lifted and they’d been chatting easily while they’d been waiting, the excitement of the trip finally bubbling through the horror of the previous twenty-four hours. Vittoria had been lovely, telling her all about New York, making her feel a lot less nervous.

As the flight attendant showed her to her seat, Lily could feel the champagne she’d drunk had gone to her head. This was such a surreal experience.

She was in business class.

She’d shrieked when she’d seen the tickets. Business class? She was working shifts in a coffee shop in St Pancras, had spent the last year living on baked beans and pasta. And now here she was in another world where everything was restful shades of grey, all sleek lines and complimentary champagne.

Each seat was in its own pod, with space to work or relax. And had its own TV screen. And a menu. And blankets.

Sitting down, Lily pulled out the thriller she knew she probably wouldn’t be able to concentrate on enough to read and pushed her worn leather satchel under the seat, out of the way. She needed to look like she was doing something. Everyone else seemed to have Samsonite flight cases and leather carry-on luggage. They all looked busy and corporate and important.

Lily leaned forward to pick up the matt gold menu and surreptitiously looked over her glasses to the other side of the aircraft. Businessmen were settling into their seats, chatting to the flight attendants, obviously familiar with the routine and the pre-flight safety announcements. They all seemed so relaxed. Lily opened the menu, all complicated folds and lists of champagne and cocktails, and tried to focus on it.

She’d had such a lovely chat to Vittoria, had been distracted from the whole Croxley mess long enough for her to start enjoying the flight experience. But now that she was on her own again, it was all coming back like the cloud that had enveloped Jack, suffocating her and sucking her in. How could she make this right? The only way to get Jack back on track was to get the shop back. What would he do without a job, without a focus, if she was on the other side of the world? He’d gone through terrible depression when he’d been in school, just after their father had died, had lost so much weight with pure anxiety they’d thought he had anorexia. There was no way she could let that happen again.

She had to find a way to get the shop back.

She couldn’t let Jack slip into that dark place he’d been in before. As Lily sat back in her seat, she suddenly felt overwhelmed. Perhaps it was the alcohol or lack of sleep, but unless she could get the shop back, how could she take this job and leave Jack behind on his own? It all suddenly felt impossible. Tears began to fall, hot on her cheeks. Lily reached down and wrestled a tissue out of her satchel, lifting her glasses so she could dab her eyes. She blew her nose.

The captain made an announcement but Lily didn’t hear it. As Jack’s face filled her mind, a deep pain began to form inside her chest.

She’d been devastated when their grandpa had died, a tragedy made so much worse by having to sell his home, their home, to pay the inheritance tax. The shop was all they had left. Jack was the fourth generation Power to trade in antique prints and books in Great Russell Street. That’s why he’d studied art history, after all; he’d worked beside their grandpa, learning the trade every evening and weekend, since he was fourteen, and he had Rupert Power’s instinct. He loved the shop as much as she did. She closed her eyes, her tears flowing freely.

And Edward Croxley had taken it and had pushed Jack to right to the edge.

‘Oh, Lily, what’s wrong?’ A voice beside her interrupted her thoughts. Startled, Lily turned to find Vittoria sitting in the pod next to her, leaning across the divide, offering her a tissue. ‘Please, take it. I’ve lots. Are you frightened of flying? You should have said.’

Lily was suddenly conscious of how awful she must look, of her red eyes. No doubt her nose was bright red too. She blushed, which made everything worse. ‘Thank you, I’m sorry … It’s not the flight.’ Lily sniffed and dabbed her nose.

‘Do you mind me sitting here? I asked the crew to move me, but if you’d rather have some peace?’

‘No, no, please stay. I’m sorry.’

‘Please don’t apologise. Really, cry as much as you need to – it’s good for you.’

Something about the way she said it surprised Lily, made her think that Vittoria had done quite a lot of crying herself and knew exactly what she was talking about. But she looked so perfect. She was married to a pilot, had beautiful clothes – and diamonds – travelled to New York regularly. What could be wrong in her life?

Leaning over, Vittoria squeezed her arm. ‘If you’d like to talk we’ve got plenty of time.’

Lily took a deep breath; could she tell Vittoria? ‘Something happened to my brother and I don’t even know if I’m going to be able to take this job. It’s such a huge move.’

‘My God, is he OK?’

Lily grimaced. ‘Physically, he’s fine, but … he’s had some issues in the past. And, well, he’s in a really bad place right now.’

‘But you’ve worked so hard. You’re so talented. Could he not go to New York with you?’

Lily shrugged. She’d told Vittoria all about the job as they’d waited for the flight. She’d wanted to see her designs, had been fascinated by the piece that had won her an award in her final year, making Lily glow with embarrassment.

‘Look, whatever’s happened, there must be a solution. Tell me about it – I’m good with problems. I’ve got my fair share too.’

And a little piece of Lily’s heart broke all over again. What did they say about the compassion of strangers? Vittoria had been so interested in hearing about Lily’s life, about her jewellery and ideas, did she really want to hear her problems as well? All of them? She really didn’t seem like the type of woman who had worries, and if she did, money certainly wasn’t one of them. Lily was sure it was a very long time since she’d had to have beans on toast for dinner, if ever. But there was something about the way Vittoria had said she had problems too – Lily could hear a sadness in her voice.

Lily hesitated for a moment. Did she really want to talk about her brother’s mental health, about the mess he was in? It was worse than any bad dream.

But Vittoria had been so nice to her and there was something cathartic about the thought of telling someone who wasn’t involved. Being here in the totally improbable world of first class, she felt somehow insulated from real life, like it was a safe space to talk to someone she might never meet again, someone who until a few hours ago had been a total stranger.

But where did she start? Jack had finally come out with the full story last night, had told her about Croxley dropping into the shop looking for a gift and getting chatting to him, discovering they had more mutual friends than he’d realised.

Apparently.

Jack had been flattered to be asked to join the game with some of the boys he’d been at school with, boys who’d walked into their fathers’ legal practices or got jobs in banking with their brothers’ friends. Boys who were men now, but who had too much disposable income and no responsibilities; worse, no sense of responsibility.

‘I’m sorry.’ Lily stopped herself, wondering why she was apologising again. She blew her nose as the lights dimmed for take-off, the travellers on either side of them turning on their reading lights, deepening the darkness surrounding them. Lily was grateful for it, felt somehow cocooned, found it easier to speak. She kept her voice low so only Vittoria could hear. ‘I found out yesterday that my brother lost the entire family business in a poker game. Actually, I think he was swindled out of it by— But, well, anyway, it’s gone.’ She took a deep breath. ‘He loved it, the shop. He … he almost jumped off Waterloo Bridge. He couldn’t tell me.’

There was a pause; then from across the half-partition, Vittoria’s voice came, full of compassion. ‘Mio Dio, that’s terrible. Is that even legal? How can you bet a business?’

‘It’s a shop. Antique books and prints. It’s been in my family for generations – my dad only worked there for a bit: he was a jeweller and had his own shop in Hatton Garden – but my great-grandfather worked in Power’s and first took on the shop. It was just books then and called something different – he was the messenger boy. The original owner had no children.’ Lily took a shaky breath. ‘My grandpa died the year after Jack left uni and Jack took over properly then. He loved it as much as I do.’ Lily could feel the tears again. ‘I just don’t know what to do. I called the family solicitor but he said because Jack had written a promissory note for the shop and its contents, and it was witnessed, it’s binding. The shop was left entirely to him so I didn’t lose any of my student grants. It made sense at the time. The solicitor said we can fight it in court but it could take months and we haven’t got that sort of money.’

Vittoria sighed, shaking her head, her forehead creased in a frown. ‘That’s just awful.’

‘I’ve no idea what to do. Jack needs the shop. It’s part of him.’

‘But your parents?’

‘My dad’s dead,’ Lily stopped for a moment, her voice a little strangled, ‘and my mum’s useless, to be perfectly honest. When my dad died my mum had a sort of breakdown. She went off to Cork to research her family history for a book and never came back. It’ll never get published – it’s about a thousand pages long at this stage and most of it is nonsense. She’s been doing it for years – we only hear from her every now and again.’

In the darkness, Lily felt Vittoria’s hand on her arm, but she still couldn’t focus. Losing the shop felt like losing the last piece of their grandfather. He’d been there for them through everything, with his wry sense of humour and incredible knowledge of, well, just everything. When she’d got her place at Central Saint Martins to study jewellery design he’d given her the most beautiful Bonhams catalogue from a 1930s sale – Fabergé and early Chanel. How could this have happened?

Jack had said it was an unlucky hand. But it wasn’t. That was something Lily was sure of.

She was also certain Jack would never have even thought of putting the shop into the game unless someone else had suggested it. But what on earth would Edward Croxley want with a shop that was barely breaking even?

‘And you’re worried about taking this incredible job in New York?’ Vittoria’s words were soft but brought Lily back to the plane, to the dimmed lights.

Lily cleared her throat, her emotions swirling with the images in her head. ‘I don’t know if I’ll be able to with Jack in this mess. He’s got no family in London now apart from me, and no job, or anywhere to live. He won’t be able to cope on his own.’

‘But it’s the chance of a lifetime. You can’t turn it down. They’ve seen your work; they wouldn’t be inviting you over for a chat if they didn’t really want you.’

‘I know. That’s what makes it even worse. I need to find a way to get the shop back. I’ve just no idea how.’ Lily sighed. ‘But I’ve talked far too much, and I never even asked why you’re going to New York.’

‘I know this sounds ridiculous, but I need some space so I’m going shopping.’ Vittoria smiled sadly. ‘I had some bad news too. I need to cheer myself up a bit, and I need to get away to think about things, so I’m going to give my husband’s credit card a full workout.’

‘God, will he mind?’

‘Well, he’s the cause of the bad news, so I don’t think he’s got a leg to stand on, to be perfectly honest.’ Vittoria hesitated as if she was choosing her words carefully. ‘I’ve found out he’s having an affair. I should say another affair.’

Lily winced. ‘That’s awful. Have you been married long?’

Vittoria stared ahead of her for a second. ‘Too long, apparently.’ Her voice was rich with sarcasm. ‘You’re, what, about twenty or twenty-two?’

‘Twenty-three.’

‘I met Marcus when I was eighteen. We were married by the time I was twenty-three. I was madly in love. He’s older than me, quite a bit actually, but he swept me off my feet when we met.’ She sighed, her face full of sadness. ‘And I had the whole world in front of me.’

‘But why would he do that? Have an affair, I mean. You’re so beautiful.’ It was out before Lily could think of a better way to put it, and she could feel herself blushing hard. People were always telling her she was too forthright.

‘Thank you, you’re lovely. But his current mistress is very beautiful. And she can give him something I can’t.’ Vittoria paused, her face strained as she said the word. ‘Children.’ Her voice was filled with so much emotion, Lily could almost feel it. She didn’t quite know what to say. Vittoria didn’t seem to notice, sighing as she continued. ‘Which is rather ironic, really. I can’t have children because of a car accident. I was in intensive care for months. Marcus was driving too fast …’

Lily reached over and touched her arm as Vittoria shook her head. She put her finger under her eye, catching a tear ‘Sorry. You’ve got me going now.’

Lily reached across the divide between the two pods and handed Vittoria her own tissues. ‘Here, have one of these. And tell me what happened. You’ve listened to all my problems.’

‘Thank you.’ Vittoria smiled as the tears began to fall faster. ‘I was a dancer, a ballet dancer. The school I was at in London was the Royal Ballet School. But after the accident … well, I couldn’t dance any more. I had to rethink everything, all my plans, my career. I’d wanted to dance since I first heard music.’ Her voice cracked. ‘Part of me wished I’d died. That sounds terrible, I’m sorry …’

‘Now you’re apologising. I know the dedication it takes to get into a school like that. If something happened to me and I couldn’t draw any more, I don’t know how I’d cope. I understand completely.’

Vittoria smiled sadly. ‘I thought my life was over, to be honest, but I had good A levels so I ended up going to university to study psychology, and Marcus proposed. We got married as soon as I left uni.’ She cleared her throat. ‘I’ve been lucky, I suppose. When I graduated we moved into his parents’ house outside Dublin – his mother died just a few years ago. It’s a wonderful house, and it overlooks the most gorgeous bay – some days it’s like being in Sorrento. All the roads around it have Italian names.’ Vittoria cleared her throat, a wistful look in her eye. ‘I had everything – a handsome husband, an amazing house, and I set up my own business when we moved to Dublin. It’s been hard work but it’s doing really well …’ The tears began to fall again. ‘I’ve been ignoring his flings for years. He’s away a lot but he always comes home to Dublin. This latest one is different, though – I think he’s going to try and divorce me. His family solicitor made me sign a prenuptial agreement. His family is very wealthy and, well, my father has a restaurant but my parents always struggled. I got a scholarship to go to school in London – I worked so hard.’ She faltered. ‘Anyway, I didn’t see anything wrong with signing when we got married – I thought we were going to be together forever.’ She cleared her throat. ‘If he divorces me I’ll have nothing, only what I came into the marriage with.’

‘Is there any way you can get out of it? The prenup I mean?’

Vittoria shrugged. ‘I’ve checked, and unless he had assets that he failed to disclose prior to signing, there aren’t really any grounds. I went into it with my eyes open. The reasons for a split aren’t relevant.’

‘It sounds like you’d be much better off without him.’ Lily put her hand to her mouth. ‘I’m sorry. That sounded rude. I’m too direct.’

Vittoria smiled. ‘You’re fine – directness is a very good quality. And to answer your question, I would, but I’d have to fight for a settlement. I have my own business but I don’t draw a big salary from it; it’s still growing. I run a clinic specialising in eating disorders and body image. I treat a lot of people from the dance and theatre world.’ Vittoria let out a breath. ‘A lot of my clients come to Dublin from London or LA to be treated because of the privacy I offer. They can’t afford for the media or their management company to find out they might have an issue and my clinic is in a very discreet location. On top of everything else, Marcus’s current girlfriend is an actress – she’s in that world. It would be very easy for a few well-placed rumours to do serious damage to my business if I tried to fight him. I could end up with less than nothing.’ Vittoria took in a ragged breath and the tears began to fall faster. ‘I can’t compete with her. She’s carrying his baby.’

Lily could hear the distress and anguish in her voice. She rubbed Vittoria’s arm. The silence yawned between them, like a deep gorge with all their troubles swirling in the cold treacherous waters at the bottom. Vittoria shook her head, reaching for another tissue. ‘I’m sorry, I guess I’m feeling a bit vulnerable at the moment,’ she hesitated, ‘very vulnerable, actually. Our house was broken into a few months ago too. I was there on my own. The man was armed. I really thought he was going to kill me.’

Lily’s eyes opened wide with shock. ‘My God, that’s terrifying. But you don’t think it had anything to do with your husband?’

Vittoria glanced at her quickly, her eyes full of fear. ‘No, no, the police think he was trying to steal a painting. My father-in-law left quite a collection – we’ve been broken into before.’

Lily looked at her seriously, her voice low. ‘But you think he could have been up to more than that?’