He flashed me a vicious look as he closed the door on my suitcase.
‘Why, thank you, William, for getting off your arse and driving all the way to Chesterfield to pick me up even though you could’ve been doing literally anything else with your evening like sitting in front of the TV with your hands down your pants, watching twenty-year-old episodes ofFrasier.’
‘You know, you aren’t always the best advertisement for marriage,’ I replied, earning myself another filthy look. ‘All right, I’m buying. But you’re not having a milkshake.’
‘At this time of night?’ He gasped as he dropped into the driver’s seat. ‘That much sugar and dairy before bed is asking for trouble and yes, before you say it, I know, I’ve changed. So has my metabolism. It’s called getting older.’
‘Didn’t say a word.’ Fastening my seatbelt with a decisive clunk-click, I sighed happily and visions of nuggies danced in my head. ‘No one would believe you’re a day over forty.’
‘I’m thirty-eight, you cow.’
I bit my lip to hide my smile. There really was nothing like riling up your big brother to put a happy cap on a shitty day.
William looked over his shoulder into the backseat, my handbag nestled in my lap, my head resting against the seatbelt.
‘You’re travelling light for a change,’ he said, gently coaxing the car into life. ‘Only one suitcase? Must be a new record.’
And that was the exact moment when my heart stopped.
I twisted in my seat so quickly, every muscle in my body pulled in protest. There it was, my little wheelie suitcase, happily relaxing against the beige leather seats. My handbag was still in my lap and the footwell was completely clear of everything except for my feet.
My tote bag was nowhere to be seen.
The tote bag that contained the special edition copy ofButterflies, a printed-out copy of the unfinished sequel complete with scribbled edits all over it, my laptop, and just for good measure, a handful of post I’d picked up as I ran out that morning. Post with my real name and address all over it in big bold letters.
As William turned the vintage engine over, I watched the train I’d arrived on chug slowly out of the station, taking with it what felt like my last shred of composure, and, for want of any other kind of response, I burst into tears.
CHAPTER FIVE
‘Oh, come on, Soph,’ William grumbled, staring straight ahead as he steered us out of the car park only to be stalled by a trainee bus driver having trouble with the roundabout. ‘It’s not going to be that bad, it’s only a party.’
‘It’s not the party,’ I replied, gulping down lungfuls of air that did nothing to calm me down. ‘I think I left my bag on the train.’
‘Ohhh, I’ve done that before, it’s so annoying,’ he said with as much empathy as a man gagging for a McDonald’s could muster. ‘Still, hardly the end of the world. What was in it?’
‘My laptop, a load of post with my real name and address on it, a copy ofButterfliesand a printout of the unfinished sequel.’
‘Ah.’
‘Tell me it’s not a big deal,’ I pleaded. ‘What are the odds of someone going through the bag, figuring out I’m Este Cox and telling anyone who cares? Tiny, right? Minuscule, non-existent.’
He glanced over at me with a terrible grimace hiding behind his beard.
‘TheMailis still offering a ten grand reward if anyone can confirm your identity. But since when could you believe anything you read in theMail?’
‘I think I’m going to be sick,’ I whispered into my hands, the static car suddenly whirling around me.
William patted me awkwardly on the arm and I could see the wheels of his mind turning while my dehydrated brain continued to shrivel and shrink, peeling itself away from the inside of my skull until it was the size of a peanut and ready to escape through my ear.
‘There’s not much we can do about it now,’ he reasoned. ‘The ticket office is closed and the train’s gone. Let’s get you home and I’ll make some calls and please don’t throw up in my car, you know you never really get the smell out.’
‘Why is this happening to me?’ I wailed. ‘I’m a good person.’
‘Well.’
‘Not to you, you’re my brother,’ I said, sobbing freely. ‘But in general, I am. I donate to charity, I picked Mum and Dad up from the airport that time they landed in the middle of the night, and I never once complained about how much Cara at work expected us all to pay towards her hen do even though it really was a lot of money and the spa was shit.’
Another reason I’d told my brother my secret and no one else. William was very good at making it seem like everything was going to be OK, even when it was deeply untrue.
