‘Why? Where are you going?’

When I turned around, Purple Hair was back in her car. Mrs Bailey blinked over my shoulder at apparent nothingness.

Crap. I started towards the Mercedes. ‘Hey!’ I yelled. ‘Wait!’

She revved the engine and pulled away from the curb. I tried to run after her but I fell short, stumbling and panting. ‘Hang on! I want to talk to you!’

The car sped off down the street, squealing around a faraway bend, and I had to swallow the string of curses welling up in my throat.

I doubled back towards Mrs Bailey, already feeling fed up with her company. She had the worst timing.

‘Who was that in the car?’ she asked.

Count to five. Calm down. Do not punch her. ‘I don’t know.’

Her face changed, and she remembered why she had stopped me. ‘You haven’t been at work in weeks, Persephone. I’ve barely seen your mother. I thought you were an apparition when I saw you just now.’

‘Well, I had an accident,’ I told her. ‘I’m sure you heard?’

She cocked her head, running her gaze along my stiffened frame. She lingered over the faint swelling around my eyes, stared for too long at the faded bruises near my jaw. ‘You look dreadful,’ she informed me.

‘I’ve missed this.’

‘You look like you have jaundice.’

‘Yeah, well you know how it is …’ I trailed off, gesturing at myself and searching for the words I needed. ‘One minute you’re standing on the top of the stairs playing on your phone, and the next minute you’re hurtling down them, toppling over yourself … and just generally … hitting your face off stuff … repeatedly … until it bruises … a lot …’ I flashed a sheepish smile. That ought to do it.

Mrs Bailey ignored the flimsiness of the lie, waving it away on the wind. ‘What a terrible business, Persephone.’

I shrugged haplessly. ‘I bruise like a peach.’

‘Indeed,’ she muttered.

‘Was there something else?’ I asked.

She was staring at me – at the old bruises around my jaw. I had tried to cover them with make-up, but clearly I had failed. My skin was still pretty Simpson-esque. I smoothed my hair down and brought it in front of my ears so that it fell around my face – a fashionable yeti.

‘Have you been keeping to yourself, Persephone?’

‘I should go,’ I said. ‘I’m supposed to meet Millie.’ I side-stepped around her, but she tugged at my arm, pulling me back.

‘I wanted to say something to you.’ She started fidgeting with the folds in her dress. ‘I wanted to tell you that if you were feeling upset about … well, about anything, perhaps I could help. I’m going to church tomorrow morning. It’s a good place to find comfort.’

The surprise inside me swelled. ‘Thanks,’ I offered, aiming for politeness. ‘I’ll give it some thought.’

*

I was almost at the diner when Millie called me. ‘Hey, I was thinking I would just meet you at your house. There’s no need for you to come to the diner.’

‘I’m pretty much here,’ I told her. I crossed the street, leaving the library behind me and scanning the diner lot. She was standing outside, her purse on her shoulder, her phone pressed to her ear. ‘I can see you!’

‘Oh.’ I watched her face fall. ‘OK, then … listen, before you freak out—’

‘Mil,’ I interrupted her. ‘Is that what I think it is?’

I was across the street, and she was staring at me, and I was staring at the corner of the lot, where a black SUV was facing the diner.

‘Ehhh.’ She followed my gaze, not that she needed to, since she was clearly already aware of its presence. ‘No?’

‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’

‘Just ignore them, Soph. Seriously. The goal is to cut contact, remember?’

‘They’re outside my diner!’

Millie had started unlocking her car and was gesturing at me to join her. But I was making strides towards the SUV. The window buzzed down before I had a chance to slam my fist against it. Dom poked his head out. Unlike Nic, he was the picture of health. His shiny hair was thick and slicked back, and his skin was smooth and olive, like he had just been on a relaxing two-week holiday in the Caribbean.

‘Gracewell. Nice day, isn’t it?’

‘What the hell are you doing here?’

I was distracted by a moving blur behind Dom’s head. Gino ducked around his brother and continued his manic waving. ‘Hi, Sophie. How are the ribs?’

I rehinged my jaw. It was hard to know whether he meant to be rude or inquisitive with his question, but either way, I wasn’t impressed. ‘Fine, Gino. Now answer the question.’

‘No can do,’ said Dom. ‘But don’t worry, it doesn’t involve you.’

‘My family owns this diner.’

‘OK,’ said Dom, cocking his head. ‘In that case, I suppose it involves you slightly. But not directly.’

Well. This added a whole new layer to the timing and strangeness of Nic’s visit. It was getting harder to believe he had just wanted to see me.

Gino was tapping out a rhythm on the dashboard with his fingers, but I couldn’t hear any music inside the car.

‘Don’t stress about it,’ said Dom. He had stopped paying me any attention and had taken his phone out to play a game on it. Hint received. I tried to see around them, into the back, to check if they had weapons, or just for a clue as to what the hell they were doing there. Surely it wasn’t just for Jack. He wasn’t about to come strolling into Gracewell’s in the middle of the day. My uncle was dumb, but no one was that dumb. ‘Unless you have Jack Gracewell in your pocket,’ Dom droned without looking up, ‘you can take off.’