Page 60 of Book People

Something inside me aches, an echo of pain, but I ignore it completely.

Instead, I drain my glass, then head upstairs to see if I can’t unearth some more of my great-grandfather’s papers, maybe find the missing notes, if there are indeed any missing notes.

In my study, I go through the box again, taking everything out, but there’s nothing left at the bottom except the confetti scatter of torn-up paper. I turn the box over to shake out the pieces to bin them, then see a familiar flash of red ink on one of the small pieces.

I can’t read the word, but that’s her ink and her writing. It’s C.

Shit, what is this?

Painstakingly, I sort through multiple tiny pieces of paper, and gather up all the ones with red ink on them. Then, back downstairs on the coffee table, I try to fit them together, a kind of paper jigsaw. Because it’s clear she sent him a note that he then tore to shreds for some reason.

It takes me a while, but at last I manage to piece it together.

There is nothing wrong. I am perfectly fine. Please do not worry about me. C

I frown over it. Why would he have ripped that up? She was saying she was fine.

At that moment, my phone buzzes and my heart jolts. Perhaps it’s Kate –Miss Jones, for fuck’s sake!

But it isn’t. It’s Dan.

Come for a pint at the Arms? Need to talk to you.

I wouldn’t mind the distraction, so I text back a quick yes. Then I frown at the ripped-up note for a moment more before grabbing my keys and heading out the door.

The Arms is busy tonight and usually I get a few nods and a few ‘all right?’s. But this evening I get some stares, side-eyes, and a few knowing smiles. It’s disturbing.

Dan’s in our usual place in the snug beside the fireplace and he’s already got a pint for me on the table. Good man.

I slide in opposite and give him a nod. ‘Cheers,’ I say, and reach for my pint, a Guinness chaser to the scotch I’ve already had. Perfect.

‘I heard Lisa Underwood said yes to the festival,’ Dan says.

Interesting. He must have heard it from someone connected to Gillian, since no one else knew. Unless Miss Jones has been telling people. Not that it matters, not when we have confirmation.

‘She did,’ I say.

‘I thought you didn’t have the money for her?’

‘We don’t. But we have some other . . . inducements.’

‘Such as?’

‘Great-grandfather Sebastian had a whole lot of letters in a box. Love letters. And Ka—. . . Miss Jones thought Lisa would be interested in looking at them, since apparently she’s between books, andColourswas based on some letters too. Turns out she is very interested.’

‘I see,’ Dan says slowly, then gives me a look. ‘Ka . . .?’

My jaw tightens. ‘Got something to say to me, Dan?’

‘Yes.’ He puts his pint down on the table and leans forward. ‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. You were seen coming out of Portable Magic at a very early hour a couple of days ago.’ He raises his brows. ‘Do you have a walk of shame you need to confess?’

My jaw tightens still further. Of course I was spotted. God forbid there’s a secret in the village that stays a secret. Can’t have people going about their own private business uncommented on.

‘Who saw me?’ I bark, a little too sharply for plausible deniability.

‘Kevin.’

Kevin Roundtree. Local plumber. He goes running at arsehole o’clock every morning and of course he’d be running right when I’m coming out of Portable Magic. He’s another who’s partial to gossip too, which means everyone must know by now. Prick. That explains the sidelong looks I was getting.

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