Anna laughed. ‘No,’ she said. ‘No, it really isn’t.’ She handed the book back to Gabi. ‘Brody Alexander,’ she said. ‘Not Brody Smith. The same results clogged up the page when I Googled too. It’s not him.’
‘It’s the same person. His full name is BrodyAlexanderSmith.’
Anna shook her head gently. ‘But I looked at his website. It said he lives in London. He’s married…’
Gabi looked at her meaningfully, then opened the cover and flipped to the copyright page. She tapped the creamy paper with a fingernail. ‘This was published in 2008. Maybe the website has not been updated? Maybe he did live in London at one time – and you said he’d lost his…’
‘Wife,’ Anna finished for her. She tugged the book back out of Gabi’s fingers. There was that same black-and-white author photo she’d seen on the internet inside the jacket. Her heart stuttered. This was Brody?
‘That’s why Brody Alexander was high up when we Googled Brody Smith,’ Gabi explained, her eyes shining with triumph and accomplishment. She’d always fancied herself as a bit of an amateur detective. ‘I read some online articles about him. One of them said what his real name was, and that he uses a different one for his books.’
Anna was still staring at the photo. It wasn’t at all what she imagined when she’d pictured him. Not at all. But in a strange way, the face was right – perfect – for the voice on the other end of the phone line, a voice she was so familiar with she could replay snatches of their conversations in her head, should she wish to.
‘Maybe I should say “used” a different name,’ Gabi added. ‘He hasn’t written for a very long time. His fans are still waiting for the sixth and final book in this series.’
Anna looked up at Gabi. None of this made any sense. Brody had never talked about writing, about doing anything much creative,apart from the woodworking he did, which had seemed to Anna like a bit of an old man’s hobby. But what had he said once…? Something about having made enough money from a career he’d walked away from to have bought his cottage…? Anna’s skin began to tingle.
Thiswas his secret? Why had he kept this from her?
‘There is something else…’ Gabi said, hesitantly. ‘One website also saidwhyhe has not written a new book for almost ten years, about why he may have disappeared. There was an accident—’
‘I don’t want to know!’ Anna blurted out so loudly that a couple of other customers turned around and frowned at her. ‘I don’t want to know,’ she repeated more quietly, making sure Gabi met her gaze and knew how serious she was about this. She’d decided not to snoop and, despite the fact she was suddenly desperate to know all the things Brody hadn’t told her, she couldn’t quite bring herself to go there. If he wanted her to know, he’d tell her. And he’d do that one day soon, surely.
‘But—’
‘No,’ Anna whispered harshly and put a finger over Gabi’s lips. ‘All I want you to tell me is this: do you think he is who he says he is? Is he telling me the truth about himself?’
Gabi nodded. ‘Yes. I think so.’
‘Then that’s all I need to know,’ Anna said calmly, even though her insides were anything but.
Gabi exhaled, looking unconvinced. ‘Okay. If that’s what you want.’
‘It’s what I want,’ Anna said and tucked the book she was holding back onto the shelf where it belonged. ‘Now let’s grab lunch before I have to head back to the office,’she said and led Gabi out of the shop.
Later, however, when she’d finished work, she found herself walking past the bookshop again. Then she found herself going inside. By the time she headed home, there was a hardback book nestled in the bottom of her shopping bag.
ANNA SAT IN the sprawling café of Tullet’s Garden Centre, just a stone’s throw away from where Scott and Teresa lived near Westerham, a pleasant commuter village near the M25. She and Teresa had organised a catch-up the Saturday after the party.Had it only been a week?Anna thought incredulously. It truly felt more like a month since she’d walked out of the Warlingham Court Hotel with Jeremy hot on her heels.
Teresa was off buying a couple of cappuccinos and Anna had bagged a table and was minding her nephew.
‘He’s just so deliciously chubby,’ she told Teresa when she returned with a tray and two mugs of steaming coffee, and then quickly added, ‘Sorry! Hope that’s not the baby version of fat-shaming!’
Teresa laughed. ‘He’s almost five months now. He’s supposed to be chubby.’ She reached for her cappuccino and took a sip. ‘And talking of delicious men, how is it going with the one you brought to my party?’
‘Good,’ she said. ‘It’s all very casual at the moment, though. Nothing too serious.’
‘Why not? Isn’t he as delicious as he seems?’
‘No, he is del— I mean, lovely. Charming, polite, interesting…’
Teresa smiled at her. ‘You deserve someone lovely. You really do.’
‘I know,’ Anna replied, and realized she actually believed that. ‘But…’
‘But…?’ Teresa said, frowning. ‘Do I detect a bit of hesitation? Because I had a quick chat with him at the bar when he came to get a round of drinks. He seems perfect for you.’
Anna sighed. ‘I know. He’s lovely. Ishouldbe crazy about him.’
