‘Darling, what on earth happened to you?’ The horror on Pippa’s face tells me just how awful I must look.

‘Let’s get inside,’ I reply.

Pippa waits in the corridor while I disable the alarm and switch on the lights, and then we bustle through to the shop. I couldn’t face coming into work yesterday. I was too shaken up by everything that happened. I messaged George to tell him I was unable to go in. To give him credit, he was sympathetic and arranged for one of his other shop managers to open up for Pippa. Luckily, he didn’t prod me about the thefts. But I’m aware that Pippa is very much on borrowed time.

George gets back from his holiday in two days, so I’m going to have to speak to Pippa soon. I’m lucky George hasn’t messaged me about it again. Hopefully his wife Sophia has banned him from any more work-related activities while they’re supposed to be on holiday. But he’s a proper workaholic, so I’m not banking on it. He could call at any moment.

I check my watch – still ten minutes until opening time, so I’ve got a few minutes in which to fill Pippa in, although the thought of talking about the attack makes me queasy.

I sit on the stool while Pippa rests her elbows on the counter.

‘You said you were in an accident,’ she prompts. ‘So what happened?’

‘I went to Bristol on Monday,’ I begin.

‘Ooh, Sebbie was there on Monday. He went to visit the auction house. We’re going to sell some artwork. Poor Mummy’s distraught.’

‘Seb was in Bristol on Monday?’ I’m getting an uncomfortable feeling in my chest. ‘When was he there? What time?’

‘Oh, he left home at the crack of dawn. He was there all morning.’

My stomach lurches. Could that be a coincidence? I decide not to voice my fears about Seb. My questions didn’t go down very well with Pippa last time. But I make a mental note to tell Llewellyn that Seb was in Bristol at the same time as me. Maybe Joe’s initial hunch was actually correct.

‘So?’ Pippa persists. ‘What happened to cause all this?’ She gestures to my face.

I decide to give her a simplified version of the truth. If Seb is something to do with the letters, I don’t want Pippa blabbing to him about how shaken up I really am. So I tell her that I was knocked over by a pedestrian.

‘You mean, on purpose?’ Her mouth hangs open.

‘I’m not sure. It happened so fast. It was busy, it could have been an accident,’ I lie.

‘But it might not have been! Sweetie! That’s absolutely horrific! Who would do such a thing? And why? You must have seriously pissed someone off, Lizzy.’ Pippa is so blunt, I’d laugh if the situation wasn’t deadly serious. ‘Any idea who it could have been?’

At the moment I’m thinking it might be your brother. ‘It could have been anyone,’ I say instead. ‘The street was crowded.’

‘Have you fallen out with anyone recently?’ she asks. ‘Someone who might have a bit of a screw loose?’

Thoughts of my sister flash into my head. ‘No.’ I shake my head slowly. ‘I can’t think of anyone I’ve fallen out with, not recently.’

‘Except the lovely Leon,’ Pippa drawls.

‘Hmm. Yes, well, the police were going to have words with him again. But they haven’t got back to me yet.’

‘Who do the police think is responsible?’ she asks. ‘I take it you did call them?’

I shrug. ‘They know as much as I do.’

‘Poor you. Should you even be in work? I mean, no offence, but you look like an extra from a horror movie.’

‘Thanks a lot!’ I put a hand self-consciously to my cheek.

‘Darling. You know I think you’re drop-dead gorgeous. Just, maybe not today.’

‘Yes, well, I thought I’d hide in the stockroom. You can come and fetch me if it gets too busy. Sorry I left you hanging around outside the shop for so long.’

‘Excuse me, I don’t “do” hanging around.’ She laughs. ‘Actually, I waited in Clare’s with a cappuccino, and had a jolly nice morning being chatted up by one of the waiters.’

‘Well, I’m glad my crisis perked up your love life.’ I roll my eyes. ‘Things feeling better after Toby?’ I ask.

‘Ah, you know. Can’t let the bastards grind you down.’ She drops her flippant tone for a moment. ‘Seriously though, Lizzy. If you need anything, any time, I’m here for you, all right?’

‘Thank you.’ I lower my eyes, feeling wretched about her imminent redundancy. I hate being so two-faced.

‘Gracious, it’s past nine o’clock,’ Pippa says, glancing down at her watch. ‘Hadn’t we better—’

‘Yes, I’ll sort out the till, you get the door. And then I’m going into the back to catch up on my paperwork.’

Being back at Georgio’s is strange. What with everything that’s gone on, it seems like weeks since I was last here, not a few days. I’m hoping that being at work will take my mind off the fact that someone out there is trying to kill me. But it’s not working. Hurriedly, I slot the float into the till and retreat to the back room, relieved to be away from the openness of the shop floor.

I slide into the leather swivel chair that sits in front of the desk and close my eyes for a moment, wondering if I’m going to have the strength to get through a whole day. I could so easily fall asleep right now. Maybe sleep is a coping mechanism – a way to block out all the crap I’m going through. My mind slips back to yesterday. To the air freshener, the spy cam theft and then the text messages. I was sure Llewellyn would be able to trace the texts. But she said that they’d most likely have been sent from a pay-as-you-go phone with an unregistered SIM, which would be untraceable. So, no joy there. Whoever is doing this is smart. They know how not to get caught. But I’m hoping it’s only a matter of time before they slip up.

I open my eyes, make myself a strong coffee and get to work ordering new stock. The morning goes by reasonably quickly and, before I know it, Pippa’s asking if she can take her lunch break. My breath shortens at the thought of going out onto the shop floor, but I tell myself not to be silly. I can do this. I can’t let whoever is threatening me ruin my life.

I slick on some lipstick, dab some more concealer on my bruises and leave the stockroom, feeling like I’m about to go on stage.

‘I won’t be long,’ Pippa says. ‘Twenty minutes or so, okay?’

‘Don’t worry, you can take your full hour,’ I say.

‘No, it’s fine. See you in twenty.’ She blows me a kiss and leaves.

I can cope with twenty minutes, can’t I?

The shop isn’t too busy. Just a few customers browsing the clothes rails. Normally I would try to catch their eye and give a smile to acknowledge that I’m here to help if they need me. But today I purposely don’t look their way, hoping they don’t want any assistance. Instead, I busy myself rearranging one of the china displays.

Someone taps me on the shoulder, making me jump. I drop the cream jug I’m holding, but manage to fumble and catch it.

‘Lizzy.’

I turn to see my neighbour, Ruby, her hair pulled up into a ponytail, large silver hoops in her ears. Her mouth drops open when she sees my face, but she clamps it shut again.

‘Sorry, didn’t mean to make you jump,’ she says. ‘What happened to your face? Sorry, that was rude. Tell me to mind my own business.’

I bring a hand self-consciously to my cheek and set the jug back down on the shelf. Obviously I didn’t do as good a job with my make-up as I thought. ‘Hi, Ruby. No, that’s okay. I know, I look a real sight, don’t I? I fell over on the pavement earlier this week.’ I don’t have the energy to go into what really happened. Not after going over the whole thing with Pippa earlier.

‘Poor you!’ Ruby briefly places a hand on my arm.

I shake my head. ‘It looks worse than it is. Anyway, Joe and I had a lovely time round at yours last week. We’ll arrange an evening at our place next, if you fancy it?’

‘Cool. Me and Ian would love to come round yours.’

‘Okay, great.’ There’s a brief awkward silence. ‘Did you come in for anything special? Or did you just pop in to say hi?’

‘Oh. Yeah. I need a card for Ian’s dad. We’re going to his retirement party at the weekend. Ian just wanted to get him some booze and chocolates, but we need a card too. Ian told me to get something funny.’

‘Sure. Okay. I’ll show you what we’ve got.’ I accompany Ruby across to the card section and point out a few that might be suitable.

She picks out quite a rude one and smirks. ‘Ian will like this one.’

‘Okay, great.’ I take the card and ring it through the till. Before she leaves, I promise to sort out a date for our next meal. Through the window, she gives me a short wave before continuing on up the street.

Outside, I notice a youngish guy talking into a mobile phone. But he’s holding the handset out in front of him like he’s taking photos, or filming. It looks as though he’s staring right at me. I tense up. What if he’s just pretending to speak to someone as a cover? Could he be filming me? It’s warm inside the shop, but suddenly I’m so hot I can barely breathe. I know I’m being irrational, but I can’t help myself. Should I go closer? See what he’s doing? I step out from behind the counter and move into the centre of the shop. As I do so, the man laughs and turns around. He walks off up the road.

I run to the door, open it and peer out. He’s still talking and laughing. If he’s been filming me, I have to know. I have to find out, so I stride after him. I have no idea what I’ll say when I catch up to the guy, but I hurry after him anyway. I’m so close now, I could tap him on the shoulder. I’m about to pluck up the courage when I see that there’s a woman on his phone screen. The man is FaceTiming with someone. He isn’t interested in me. He wasn’t filming me at all.

My heart is racing; my skin is clammy. I’m an anxiety-ridden mess. I stand where I am for a few seconds more, trying to breathe in some fresh air. But the atmosphere is so close, so moisture-laden, that each breath catches in my throat.

‘Lizzy?’

I turn at the sound of a man’s voice. I take a step backward when I see who it is.

‘Leon,’ I croak. ‘What are you doing here?’