‘Well, it’s official,’ Pippa announces outside the shop as I’m opening up, unlocking the side door. Her usual buoyant manner is subdued, her face pale. Even her normally glossy hair is lank and dull.

‘What’s official?’ I ask, as she follows me through the side passage while I deactivate the alarm.

‘Bloody Toby. He dumped me last night. By text!’

I turn to face her, my expression suitably sympathetic. But all I can think is that I can’t possibly quiz her about the thefts after her new boyfriend has just dumped her. George would have no such qualms about bringing it up, I’m sure. But I’m not George.

‘Oh, Pippa. I’m so sorry.’

‘I know I’m bonkers for thinking it,’ she says, ‘but I really thought he was the one. We got on so well. We were perfect for one another.’

‘Maybe he’ll change his mind,’ I say, flicking on the shop lights one by one.

‘Doubt it,’ she says glumly. ‘I’m destined to die a spinster.’

‘Don’t be daft. And anyway, that word should be banned from the dictionary – spinster.’ I tut. ‘You might find a man to share your life with, you might not. But either way, you’ll be fine, Pippa.’

‘Easy for you to say. You’ve got Joe.’

‘You don’t even like Joe!’ I say with a smile.

‘What? Of course I do… Well, I hardly know him. But that’s not the point. The point is that you like him, and that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? Finding someone you like, or love even, whatever love is. I thought I’d found my Joe. But all I’d found was another liar.’

We head into the main part of the shop and I try to comfort Pippa while we go about our early-morning routine of unlocking the front door, setting out the A-board, putting the float back in the till and generally preparing for the day ahead. But we’re both subdued. Pippa because of Toby, and me because of yesterday’s letter. I barely slept last night and I could tell Joe was really shaken up, too. And I hated the idea of leaving Frank alone in the house. Even though we’ve locked the cat flap and changed the locks, I’m sure someone could find a way into our house if they wanted to. I can’t bring myself to tell Pippa about the new letter. I want to try to put it out of my head if I possibly can.

I text Joe to tell him I’ve arrived at work safely. He wanted to drop me in this morning. Part of me wanted to say yes. Part of me was terrified to drive in alone. But I told him that I didn’t want to make him late for work. That I’m not putting my life on hold because of some weirdo who wants to freak me out. So he reluctantly agreed, as long as I let him know I got in to work okay. I feel like a child again.

After texting Joe, I notice I’ve got a voicemail so I have a quick listen. It’s George calling from the airport, reminding me to speak to Pippa about the thefts. I can’t face calling him back, so I send a text instead:

I’m hoping this is enough to keep him off my back. He responds instantly:

I text him a thumbs-up emoji, hoping he’ll be too wrapped up in relaxing to bother me again. However, I know George. He’s a workaholic, and never truly switches off.

‘Everything okay?’ Pippa comes into the stockroom and I move my phone out of her eyeline.

‘Fine,’ I lie, thinking how she doesn’t know the half of it. Why on earth did she have to go and start stealing? Now I’m going to have to fire her, lose a friend and hope that the repercussions aren’t too awful.

The morning goes by so slowly that I keep thinking my watch has stopped. Pippa is miserable, and I feel like I have a bag of sharp stones in my stomach. Just before one o’clock I’m helping a customer decide on a necklace to go with a dress when I see the familiar figures of Sergeant Llewellyn and Constable Ryan walk past the shop window. I want to drop what I’m doing, run outside and ask them if they’ve made any progress on my case, but I can’t abandon my customer.

‘Do you think the silver or the rose gold?’ she asks, holding both necklaces against her throat and staring critically at her reflection in the fitting room mirror.

‘Definitely silver,’ I say, with one eye on the front of the shop. My heart simultaneously lifts and drops as both officers walk into the shop. ‘The rose gold is too close to your skin tone and gets lost, look.’

‘Oh, you’re absolutely right,’ she says. ‘Yes, I’ll take this one.’

Llewellyn catches my eye and I raise my index finger to say I’ll be with her in a minute. Pippa has gone to the bank to get some pound coins, so I can’t pass my customer on to her to deal with. It takes what feels like centuries for her to get changed and make her final decisions, but eventually I’m able to ring through her purchases and my customer leaves happy but staring with undisguised curiosity at the officers on her way out.

‘Hello, Lizzy,’ Llewellyn says as the two of them make their way down the shop towards me.

‘Hi.’ I nod at her and at Ryan, whose acne looks angrier than usual today. I bet the heat makes it worse, poor guy.

‘We’ve got a bit of news,’ Llewellyn says.

I dig my thumbnails into the pads of my forefingers.

‘Nothing to move things on, I’m afraid,’ she adds.

‘What’s the news?’

‘We’ve had the first lot of test results back from the lab.’

‘And?’

‘No prints on the ashtray or magnetic letters, I’m afraid. They were perfectly clean. Which means whoever threw the ashtray and arranged those letters was probably wearing gloves.’

I take a moment to digest the information. If they were wearing gloves then they’re serious about what they are doing.

‘We’ve sent the letters off to the lab, so we should get the results back beginning of next week.’

‘Along with the blood test?’ I ask. ‘To see if that smudge is… Frank’s blood?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

‘Thanks,’ I reply, feeling suddenly queasy.

‘Sorry we haven’t got more news for you but these things can take time,’ Llewellyn says. ‘How are you feeling today? Are you holding up okay?’

‘Ah, you know,’ I say, shrugging my shoulders. ‘I’ll be happier once we find out who it is.’

‘I know.’ Llewellyn sighs. ‘We’re doing everything we can on that front. Do get in touch if you hear or see anything else suspicious.’

‘I will.’

Llewellyn and Ryan leave and I have to sit down on the stool for a moment. My head is swimming, and with the police gone, I suddenly don’t feel safe in the shop on my own. Anyone could come in, close the door behind them, and… and what? What do they even want from me?

I’ve never been a nervous kind of person. I’ve always stuck up for myself, and others. Despite my mother trying to chip away at my ego over the years, I’ve managed to retain my confidence. I’m proud of it. It’s who I am. But I’m gradually realising that, given the right circumstances, anyone can have their self-esteem eroded. That you can be strong one day and faint-hearted the next. That no one is immune to fear.

Pippa comes back from the bank and I ask her to watch the shop while I go into the back to catch up on some paperwork. I also want to avoid making small talk with her, but that’s not the only reason I’m going into the stockroom. No. I’ve had a brainwave – an idea of how to find out who’s behind the letters. It may be a little over the top, but this kind of thing doesn’t happen every day. And I refuse to sit around waiting for another threatening letter or intimidating situation. Instead, I’m going to do something proactive.