The heat inside the shop wraps itself around me like a shroud. My stomach is hollow, my throat tight and scratchy. As I go through the morning ritual of opening up, it’s like I’m moving through lava.

‘Are you sure you’re okay, Lizzy?’ Pippa asks, opening the front door and setting out the A-board. ‘You really do look very peaky. And I’m not being funny, but if you are coming down with something then you should be at home, in quarantine, not breathing your flu all over the customers, or me.’

‘I’m fine.’ My voice is thick, echoing inside my head as though my ears are blocked. I do actually feel like I might have the flu, but I know it’s not a virus that’s making me feel like hell. It’s my life disintegrating around me, pulling my defences down. I kicked Joe out last night, and, quite honestly, I never want to set eyes on him again. But that doesn’t stop me grieving for the man I thought he was. True, he had his flaws. He was overprotective, jealous and maybe even a little bit controlling. But I never thought of him as a liar, or a cheat. He let me believe my sister betrayed me. All those wasted years I spent loving him and hating her…

‘You’re clearly not fine,’ Pippa continues. ‘Are you hung-over? Where did you and Emma disappear off to last night? One minute you were there, the next minute, poof! Off you’d popped in a puff of smoke. Sebbie was disappointed. He wanted to come and say hi. You know he does have a bit of a mini-crush on you, Lizzy. And before you start, no, he’s not your stalker. And you could do worse. I mean, I know you’re with Joe, but Sebbie’s handsome and kind. Plus, he’s got a pretty nice pad, even if it is a bit dilapidated.’ She laughs.

As I switch on the shop lights, Pippa’s words float over me like butterflies over a lilac tree. Hovering, but never settling. Always moving, drifting. I hear them, but their meaning doesn’t seem to register. It’s all just meaningless chatter.

‘Your phone,’ Pippa says.

I try to think what I’m supposed to be doing next. I need to put the float in the till.

‘Lizzy, Liz! Your phone’s ringing!’

I glance over at Pippa, who’s by the front door looking at me like I’m deranged. ‘My phone?’

‘It’s ringing. In case, you know, you wanted to answer it.’

‘Oh, yes. Okay.’ I walk into the stockroom in a daze and take my phone out of my bag, but of course it’s stopped ringing now. I wonder if it was Joe. But a quick glance tells me that it’s George. Thank goodness I missed the call. He’s going to ask me if I’ve spoken to Pippa. He doesn’t realise that I have more terrifying things to worry about than a few missing dresses. But that’s not fair. Theft is theft. George comes back from holiday today, and if he finds out I haven’t spoken to Pippa, he won’t hesitate – he’ll call the police. He may even fire me. I can’t let that happen.

‘Pippa!’ I call out down the shop to her. I don’t have the strength to do this now, but I have no choice. Everything is rising to the surface – the secrets, the lies, the betrayals. This is just one more uncovering of the truth. ‘Pippa! Can you lock the front door again?’

‘Lock it? I’ve only just opened it.’ She checks her watch. ‘It’s past opening time.’

‘I know. But I need to talk to you. It’s urgent.’

Pippa does as she’s asked and turns over the closed sign once more. She smooths her blonde hair and walks the length of the shop to reach me in the stockroom. I feel strangely calm, but at the same time I’m aware that I might be about to lose Pippa’s friendship. And Pippa is quite possibly the closest thing I have to a proper friend right now.

‘You do know George is back from his hols today,’ Pippa says. ‘If he comes to the shop and sees it’s closed, he won’t be a happy bunny.’

‘Don’t worry about that,’ I say.

‘Who are you, and what have you done with Lizzy Beresford?’ Pippa laughs, but stops when she sees I’m not joining in. ‘What’s the problem, Liz?’

‘It’s awkward,’ I say, my veneer of calm peeling away. I pull at my shirt collar. ‘Is it just me, or is it really hot in here?’

‘Spit it out, Lizzy.’

The stockroom feels too small, too enclosed for this conversation, but we can’t stand out there in the shop where anyone can see us through the window. I pull the stockroom door closed with a firm click. ‘I firstly need to say, this isn’t my doing. This is George’s decision.’

‘Now you’re making me worried.’ She gives a nervous laugh. ‘You’re not giving me the sack, I hope?’

I clear my throat and take a step back so we’re not standing so close to one another. ‘George thinks you’ve been taking things from the shop without paying. Goods and cash.’

Pippa’s face blanches. She swallows and then her expression quickly turns neutral. ‘I see. And what do you think, Lizzy?’

‘I honestly don’t know, Pippa. There have been some… discrepancies.’ I give a small shrug.

‘And you told George about them. About these… discrepancies?’ Her nostrils flare.

‘No. No, I ignored them, if you must know. Thought I must be mistaken. It was George who came to me. He told me he wanted to catch you in the act, then call the police.’

Pippa’s face flushes, her expression tightens.

‘I begged him not to get the police involved. I told him I would ask you to return what’s been taken. And he agreed.’

‘So you believe George? You think I’ve been stealing!’ Pippa folds her arms across her chest, a look of outrage settling across her face.

Have I made a mistake? Is she innocent? But my mind catalogues all the incidents and discrepancies, and I know I’m not wrong. She’s guilty, she’s just not owning up to it. ‘Pippa, listen to me, I’m not taking sides. All I’m saying is that if you don’t bring back what you’ve taken, George has said he’ll get the police involved. And I know you don’t want that. I’m trying to look out for you.’

‘Bloody funny way of showing it.’ She strides over to the shelf and grabs her handbag. ‘You can tell George to stick his job up his arse.’ A tear slides down her cheek and she swipes it away. ‘And as for you… well, I thought you were my friend. Obviously I was mistaken.’

‘Pippa! I am your friend. That’s why—’

‘Oh, just piss off, Lizzy.’

Pippa stalks out of the stockroom and I follow her, my heart pounding, wondering how I can make things right between us. But I’m in an impossible situation. ‘George was going to call the police! What else was I supposed to do?’

She stops and turns to face me. ‘You could have stuck up for me! Or spoken to me. We could have figured it out together.’

‘I’m speaking to you now.’

‘Yes, but now it’s too late. You’ve already been gossiping about me to George.’

‘I wasn’t gossiping, I was trying to protect you after he came to see me.’

‘He came to see you? When was this? It must have been before he went on holiday. So you’ve known about this for over a week and you didn’t think it was worth mentioning until now? Until the day he gets back?’

‘I didn’t know what to say, Pip. I was trying to work out the best way of telling you.’

‘So, when you were “sticking up for me”, did you tell George that there’s no way I’d been taking any goods? Did you tell him I was innocent?’

‘I…’

‘That’ll be a “no” then.’

‘Pippa! Someone’s been helping themselves to stock and cash and it isn’t me. What was I supposed to tell George?’

‘Goodbye, Lizzy. Doesn’t look like I’ll be coming back.’ Pippa opens the side door and slams it behind her so violently that one of the jewellery boards becomes dislodged from the wall and crashes down, scattering silver necklaces, earrings and beads across the floor.

‘Pippa!’ A few seconds later, the outer door slams and I see my friend march past the window and off down the road. My hands tremble. My heart races. I knew this conversation was going to be tricky, but I hadn’t anticipated just how angry Pippa would be. I naively supposed she might cry, or even admit to what she’d done. I didn’t expect this defensive rage.

Is she right? Should I have spoken to her when I first had my suspicions? If Pippa has serious money worries, maybe I could have helped in some way. A wave of nausea hits me; everything seems to be going wrong. But I get the feeling that there would never have been a right time to bring this up. I exhale. No. She’s done something wrong and she’s been found out. Let’s face it, nobody likes to get caught.