Twenties Girl

TWELVE

It makes no sense. None. It’s crazy, whichever way you look at it.

Was “Charles Reece” really Uncle Bill? But why would he visit Sadie? Why would he use a fake name? And why wouldn’t he mention it?

And as for the idea that he might have had anything to do with her necklace disappearing… I mean, hello? He’s a multimillionaire. Why would he need some old necklace?

I feel like banging my head against the window, to make all the pieces fall into place. But since at this very minute I’m sitting in a plushy chauffeur-driven limo provided by Uncle Bill, I probably won’t. Just to get this far has been a total hassle. I don’t want to jeopardize things.

I’ve never phoned up Uncle Bill in my life, so at first I wasn’t sure how to get in touch with him. (Obviously I couldn’t ask Mum and Dad, or they’d want to know why I needed to see Uncle Bill and why had I been visiting Sadie’s nursing home and what was I talking about, what necklace?) So I rang Lingtons head office, eventually persuaded someone that I was for real, got through to one of the assistants, and asked if I could make an appointment to see Uncle Bill.

It was as if I’d asked to see the president. Within the hour, about six assistants started sending me emails, coordinating a time, changing the time, changing the location, organizing a car, asking me to bring ID, telling me I couldn’t overrun my slot, asking what Lingtons beverage I’d prefer in the car…

All for a ten-minute meeting.

The car is pretty rock-star, I have to admit. It’s got two rows of seats facing each other and a TV, and a chilled strawberry smoothie was waiting for me, just like I asked for. I’d be more grateful, except that Dad once said Uncle Bill always sends cars for people so that the minute he’s had enough of them he can send them away again.

“William and Michael,” Sadie pipes up thoughtfully from the seat opposite. “I left everything to those boys in my will.”

“Oh, right.” I nod. “Yes, I think I heard that.”

“Well, I hope they were grateful. There must have been a fair amount.”

“Loads!” I lie hastily, remembering a conversation I once heard between Mum and Dad. Apparently everything was swallowed up by the nursing-home fees, but Sadie wouldn’t want to hear that. “And they were really thrilled.”

“So they should be.” She sits back in satisfaction. A moment later the car pulls off the road and approaches a pair of enormous gates. As the car stops by the gatehouse and a security guard approaches, Sadie peers past me at the mansion.

“Goodness.” She looks at me uncertainly, as though someone must be playing a joke. “That’s a rather large house. How on earth did he become so rich?”

“I told you,” I say under my breath, as I give my passport to the driver. He hands it to the security guard, and they confer as though I’m some sort of terrorist.

“You said he ran coffee shops.” Sadie wrinkles her nose.

“Yes. Thousands of them. All around the world. He’s really famous.”

There’s a pause, then Sadie says, “I should have liked to be famous.”

There’s a trace of wistfulness in her voice, and I open my mouth to say automatically, “Maybe you will be one day!” Then, as the truth hits me, I close it again, feeling a bit sad. There isn’t a “one day” for her anymore, is there?

By now the car is purring up the drive, and I can’t help gazing out of the window like a child. I’ve only been to Uncle Bill’s mansion a few times in my life, and I always forget how impressive and intimidating it is. It’s a Georgian house with about fifteen bedrooms and a basement with two swimming pools in it. Two.

I’m not going to get nervous, I tell myself firmly. It’s just a house. He’s just a person.

But, oh God. Everything’s so grand. There are lawns everywhere and fountains sprinkling, and gardeners snipping hedges. As we approach the entrance, a tall guy in a black suit and shades with a discreet earpiece is coming down the spotless white steps to greet me.

“Lara.” He clasps my hand as though we’re old friends. “I’m Damian. I work for Bill. He’s looking forward to seeing you. I’ll take you round to the office wing.” As we start to crunch over the gravel, he adds lightly, “What exactly was it you wanted to talk to Bill about? Nobody seems very clear.”

“It’s… um… private. Sorry.”

“No problem.” He flashes a smile. “Great. Just approaching, Sarah,” he says into his earpiece.

The side building is as impressive as the main house, just in a different style, all glass and modern art and a stainless-steel water feature. As if by clockwork, a girl comes out to greet us, also dressed immaculately in a black suit.

“Hi, Lara. Welcome. I’m Sarah.”

“I’ll leave you here, Lara.” Damian flashes me his teeth again and crunches back over the gravel.

“So, it’s an honor to meet Bill’s niece!” says Sarah as she leads me into the building.

“Oh. Well… er, thanks.”

“I don’t know if Damian mentioned this.” Sarah ushers me to a seat and sits down opposite me. “But I was wondering if you could tell me the subjects you’d like to discuss with Bill. It’s something we ask all his visitors. So we can prep him, do any necessary research… It makes life easier for everyone.”

“Damian did ask. But it’s kind of private, sorry.”

Sarah’s pleasant smile doesn’t falter for an instant.

“If you could just indicate the broad areas? Give us an idea?”

“I don’t really want to get into it.” I can feel myself flushing. “I’m sorry. It’s kind of a… family thing.”

“Of course! That’s fine. Excuse me a moment.”

She moves away into a corner of the reception area, and I can see her muttering into her earpiece. Sadie glides over to Sarah for a minute or two, then appears back by my side. To my astonishment, she’s cracking up with laughter.

“What is it?” I demand under my breath. “What was she saying?”

“She said she didn’t think you looked violent but maybe they should call extra security anyway.”

“What?” I can’t help exclaiming, and Sarah immediately whips around to survey me.

“Sorry.” I wave at her cheerily. “Just… er… sneezed. What else did she say?” I hiss as Sarah turns away again.

“Apparently you have a grudge against Bill? Something about a job he didn’t give you?”

Grudge? Job? I stare at her baffled for a second-before the penny drops. The funeral. Of course.

“The last time Uncle Bill saw me, I was announcing a murder in the middle of a funeral. He must have told everyone I’m a total psychopath!”

“Isn’t it a wheeze?” Sadie giggles.

“It’s not funny!” I say crossly. “They probably all think I’ve come to assassinate him or something! You realize this is all your fault?” I hastily break off as Sarah approaches again.

“Hi, Lara!” Her voice is bright but tense. “So… one of Bill’s team will sit in with you during the meeting. Just to take notes. Is that OK?”

“Look. Sarah.” I try to sound as sane and calm as possible. “I’m not a nutter. I don’t have a grudge against anyone. I don’t need any notes taken. I just want to have a chat with my uncle, one to one. Five minutes. That’s all I want.”

There’s silence for a moment. Sarah still has a vivid smile pasted on, but her eyes keep swiveling to the door and back again.

“OK, Lara,” she says at last. “We’ll do things your way.”

As she sits down, I can see her touching her earpiece as though for reassurance.

“So… how’s Aunt Trudy?” I say conversationally. “Is she here?”

“Trudy’s at the house in France for a few days,” Sarah says at once.

“How about Diamanté? Maybe we could have a quick coffee or something.” I don’t really want to have coffee with Diamanté, I only want to prove how friendly and normal I am.

“You want to see Diamanté?” Sarah’s eyes have gone even more swively. “Now?”

“Just for a coffee, if she’s around.”

“I’ll call her assistant.” She leaps up, hurries away to the corner, and mutters in her earpiece, then almost immediately comes back to the seating area. “I’m afraid Diamanté’s getting a manicure at the moment. She says maybe next time?”

Yeah, right. She never even put the call through. I’m feeling quite sorry for this Sarah, actually. She looks as nervous as if she’s babysitting a lion. I have a wicked urge to yell “Hands up!” and see how quickly she throws herself to the floor.

“I love your bracelet,” I say instead. “It’s really unusual.”

“Oh, yes.” She extends her arm warily and shakes the two little silver disks on their chain. “Haven’t you seen these yet? They’re from the new Two Little Coins line. There’s going to be a stand of products in each Lingtons coffee shop starting next January. I’m sure Bill will give you one. There’s a pendant, too, and T-shirts… gift sets of two little coins in a treasure box…”

“Sounds great,” I say politely. “It must be doing well.”

“Oh, Two Little Coins is huge,” she assures me earnestly. “Huge. It’ll be as big a brand as Lingtons. You know it’s going to be a Hollywood film?”

“Uh-huh.” I nod. “Pierce Brosnan as Uncle Bill, I heard.”

“And of course the reality show will be a big hit. It’s such an empowering message. I mean, anyone can follow Bill’s path.” Sarah’s eyes are shining, and she seems to have forgotten all about being scared of me. “Anyone can pick up two little coins and decide to change their future. And you can apply it to families, businesses, economies… You know, lots of really senior politicians have called Bill since the book came out. They’re, like, how can we apply your secret to our country?” She lowers her voice reverentially. “Including the President of the United States.”

“The president phoned Uncle Bill?” I’m awed, in spite of myself.

“His people.” She shrugs and shakes her bracelet out. “We all think Bill should get into politics himself. He has so much to offer the world. It’s such a privilege to work for him.”

She’s totally signed up for the cult. I glance at Sadie, who has been yawning throughout Sarah’s speech.

“I’m going to explore,” she announces, and before I can say anything, she’s disappeared.

“OK.” Sarah’s listening to her earpiece. “On our way. Bill’s ready to see you, Lara.”

She gets up and beckons me to follow. We make our way down a corridor lined with what look suspiciously like real Picassos, then pause in another, smaller reception area. I tug at my skirt and take a few deep breaths. It’s ridiculous to feel nervous. I mean, this is my uncle. I have a right to see him. There’s no need to feel anything except relaxed-

I can’t help it. My legs are wobbling.

I think it’s because the doors are so big. They’re not like normal doors. They tower up to the ceiling, great blocks of pale polished wood that swing open silently every now and again as people come in and out.

“Is that Uncle Bill’s office?” I nod at the door.

“That’s the outer office.” Sarah smiles. “You’ll be seeing him in the inner office.” She listens to her earpiece again, suddenly alert, then murmurs, “Bringing her in now.”

She pushes open one of the tall doors and leads me through an airy, glass-walled office space with a couple of cool-looking guys at workstations, one of whom is wearing a Two Little Coins T-shirt. They both look up and smile politely but don’t stop typing. We reach another set of giant doors and pause. Sarah glances at her watch-then, as though timing it to the second, knocks and pushes the door open.

It’s a vast, light room with a vaulted ceiling and a glass sculpture on a podium and a sunken seating area. Six men in suits are getting up from chairs, as though finishing a meeting. And there, behind his massive desk, is Uncle Bill, looking lithe in a gray polo neck and jeans. He’s more tanned than he was at the funeral, his hair as glossy black as ever, and he’s cradling a Lingtons coffee mug in one hand.

“Thanks very much for your time, Bill,” one of the men is saying fervently. “We appreciate it.”

Uncle Bill doesn’t even reply, just lifts a hand like the pope. As the men file out, three girls in black uniforms appear from nowhere and clear the table of coffee cups in about thirty seconds flat, while Sarah ushers me forward to a chair.

All of a sudden she looks nervous too.

“Your niece Lara,” she murmurs to Uncle Bill. “She wants a one to one. Damian made the decision to give her five minutes, but we don’t have any prep notes. We have Ted standing by.” Sarah lowers her voice further. “I can call extra security-”

“Thanks, Sarah, we’ll be fine.” Uncle Bill cuts her off and turns his attention to me. “Lara. Have a seat.”

As I sit down, I’m aware of Sarah moving away and the soft swoosh of the door closing behind me.

There’s silence, apart from Uncle Bill tapping something into his BlackBerry. To pass the time, I look at the wall of pictures of Uncle Bill with famous people. Madonna. Nelson Mandela. The whole England football team.

“So, Lara.” At last he looks up. “What can I do for you?”

“I… um…” I clear my throat. “I was…”

I had all sorts of punchy openers prepared. But now that I’m actually here, in the inner sanctum, they’re all drying up on my lips. I feel paralyzed. This is Bill Lington we’re talking about. Huge, jet-setting tycoon with a million important things to do, like telling the president how to run his country. Why would he go to an old people’s home and take a necklace from an old lady? What have I been thinking?

“Lara?” He frowns questioningly

Oh God. If I’m going to do this, I need to do it. It’s like jumping off the diving board. Hold your nose, deep breath, go.

“I went to Aunt Sadie’s nursing home last week,” I say in a rush. “And apparently she had this visitor a few weeks ago who looked just like you, called Charles Reece, and it didn’t make any sense to me, so I thought I’d come and ask you…”

I trail off. Uncle Bill is looking at me with as much enthusiasm as if I’d whipped out a hula skirt and started dancing.

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “Lara, are you still claiming Sadie was murdered? Is that what this is about? Because I really don’t have time-” He reaches for the telephone.

“No, that’s not it!” My face is boiling, but I force myself to persevere. “I don’t really think she was murdered. I went there because… because I felt bad that no one had ever shown any interest in her. When she was alive, I mean. And there was another name in the visitors’ book, and they said the guy looked exactly like you, and I was just… wondering. You know. Just wondering.”

My heart is pounding in my ears as I finish.

Slowly, Uncle Bill replaces the telephone receiver and there’s silence. For a few moments he looks as though he’s weighing up exactly what to say.

“Well, it looks as though both of us had the same instincts,” he says at last, leaning back in his chair. “You’re right. I did go to see Sadie.”

My jaw drops in astonishment.

Result! Total, instant result! I think I should become a private detective.

“But why did you use the name Charles Reece?”

“Lara.” Uncle Bill gives a patient sigh. “I have a lot of fans out there. I’m a celebrity. There are a lot of things I do that I don’t trumpet. Charity work, hospital visits…” He spreads his hands. “Charles Reece is the name I take when I want to stay anonymous. Can you imagine the fuss if it were known that Bill Lington had personally come to visit an old lady?” He meets my eyes with a friendly twinkle, and for a moment I can’t help smiling back.

It kind of makes sense. Uncle Bill is such a rock star. Taking a pseudonym is the sort of thing he’d do.

“But why didn’t you tell any of the family? At the service, you said you’d never visited Aunt Sadie.”

“I know.” Uncle Bill nods. “And I had my reasons for that. I didn’t want to make the rest of the family feel in any way guilty or defensive about not having visited themselves. Especially your father. He can be… prickly.”

Prickly? Dad’s not prickly.

“Dad’s fine,” I say tightly.

“Oh, he’s great,” Bill says immediately. “An absolutely fantastic guy. But it can’t be easy being Bill Lington’s big brother. I feel for him.”

Indignation surges through me. He’s right. It’s not easy being Bill Lington’s big brother, because Bill Lington is such an arrogant tosser.

I should never have smiled at him. In fact, I wish there were a way to take smiles back.

“You don’t need to feel sorry for Dad,” I say as politely as I can. “He doesn’t feel sorry for himself. He’s done really well in life.”

“You know, I’ve started using your dad as an example in my seminars.” Uncle Bill adopts a musing tone. “Two boys. Same upbringing. Same education. The only difference between them was, one of them wanted it. One of them had the dream.”

He sounds like he’s rehearsing a speech for some promotional DVD. God, he’s up himself. Who says everyone wants to be Bill Lington, anyway? Some people’s dream would be not to have their face plastered across coffee cups all over the world.

“So, Lara.” He focuses back on me. “It was a pleasure to see you; Sarah will show you out.”

That’s it? My audience is over? I haven’t even got to the bit about the necklace yet.

“There’s something else,” I say hastily.

“Lara-”

“I’ll be really quick, I promise! I just wondered, when you visited Aunt Sadie…”

“Yes?” I can see him trying to keep his patience. He glances at his watch and touches a key on his keyboard.

Oh God. How am I going to put this?

“Do you know anything about…” I’m stumbling over my words. “I mean, did you see… or possibly take, by accident… a necklace? A long necklace with glass beads and a dragonfly pendant?”

I’m expecting another patronizing sigh, a blank look, and a dismissive comment. I’m not expecting him to freeze. I’m not expecting his eyes to become suddenly sharp and wary.

As I stare back, I feel almost breathless with shock. He knows what I’m talking about. He knows.

The very next moment, the wariness has disappeared out of his eyes and he’s back to empty politeness. I could almost think I imagined that other expression.

“A necklace?” He takes a sip of coffee and types something at his keyboard. “Do you mean something of Sadie’s?”

The back of my neck is prickling all over. What’s going on? I saw the recognition in his eyes, I know I did. Why is he pretending he doesn’t know about it?

“Yes, it’s an old piece I’m trying to track down.” Some instinct tells me to act cool and unconcerned. “The nurses at the home said it had disappeared, so…” I watch Uncle Bill sharply for a reaction, but his bland mask is perfectly in place.

“Interesting. Why do you want it?” he asks lightly.

“Oh, no particular reason. I just saw a photo of Sadie wearing it at her hundred and fifth birthday and I thought it would be nice to find it.”

“Fascinating.” He pauses. “Can I see the photo?”

“I haven’t got it on me, I’m afraid.”

This conversation is so weird. It feels like a game of tennis, where we’re both lobbing balls very gently into the air and resisting the urge to wallop a winner.

“Well, I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Uncle Bill puts his mug down with an air of finality. “I’m pressed for time, so we’ll have to leave it there.”

He pushes back his chair but I don’t move. He knows something about it. I’m sure he does. But what do I do? What options do I have?

“Lara?” He’s standing by my chair, waiting. Reluctantly I get to my feet. As we approach the door, it opens as though by magic. We’re greeted by Sarah, with Damian hovering behind, his BlackBerry out.

“All done?” he says.

“All done.” Uncle Bill nods firmly. “Give my best to your dad, won’t you, Lara? Good-bye.”

Sarah puts a hand to my elbow and starts gently edging me out of the room. My chance is ebbing away. In desperation, I grip onto the door frame.

“It’s a shame about the necklace, don’t you think?” I look directly at Uncle Bill, trying to provoke a response. “What do you think happened to it?”

“Lara, I’d forget about the necklace,” says Uncle Bill smoothly. “It was probably lost a long time ago. Damian, come in.”

Damian hurries past me, and the two men head to the other side of the room. The door is already closing. I stare after Uncle Bill, almost exploding with frustration.

What’s going on? What is it with this necklace?

I need to speak to Sadie, right now. This minute. I swivel my head back and forth, but there’s no sign of her. Typical. She’s probably found some hunky gardener to lust after.

“Lara,” says Sarah with a tense smile. “Could you please remove your fingers from the door frame? We can’t close the door.”

“All right!” I say, lifting up my hands. “Don’t panic! I’m not going to stage a sit-in protest!”

Sarah’s eyes jump in fear at the word protest, which she immediately covers with a fake little laugh. She should really give up working for Uncle Bill. She’s way too nervous.

“Your car is waiting for you at the front. I’ll take you there now.”

Damn. If she escorts me out, there’s no way I can sidle off or poke around any drawers or anything.

“A coffee for the ride?” asks Sarah as we pass through the lobby.

I quell an urge to say, “Yes, please, a Starbucks.”

“No, thanks.” I smile.

“Well, it’s been so great to see you, Lara!” Her fake gushiness makes me wince. “Come back soon!”

Yeah, right. By which you mean “please never set foot in this place again, ever.”

The limo driver opens the door, and I’m about to step in when Sadie appears right in front of me, blocking the way. Her hair is a little disheveled and she’s breathing hard.

“I’ve found it!” she says dramatically.

“What?” I stop, foot halfway into the car.

“It’s in the house! I saw it in a bedroom upstairs, on a dressing table! It’s here! My necklace is here!”

I stare at her, gripped. I knew it, I knew it!

“You’re absolutely sure it’s yours?”

“Of course I’m sure!” Her voice rises shrilly and she starts gesturing at the house. “I could have picked it up! I tried to pick it up! Of course, I couldn’t…” She clicks her tongue in frustration.

“Lara, is there a problem?” Sarah is hurrying down the stairs again. “Is there something wrong with the car? Neville, is everything OK?” she snaps at the driver.

“Everything’s fine!” he replies defensively, and jerks his head at me. “She just started talking to thin air.”

“Would you like a different car, Lara?” I can see it’s taking Sarah a supreme effort to keep up her pleasant manner. “Or to go to a different location? Neville can take you anywhere. Perhaps you’d like the use of him for the rest of the day?”

She really, really wants to get rid of me.

“This car’s fine, thanks,” I say brightly. “Get in the car,” I mutter to Sadie out of the side of my mouth. “Can’t talk here.”

“I’m sorry?” Sarah frowns.

“Just… on the phone. Tiny earpiece.” I tap my ear and quickly slide into the car.

The car door clunks and we glide away toward the gates. I check that the glass partition is closed, then flop back and look at Sadie.

“This is unbelievable! How did you find it?”

“I just went looking.” She shrugs. “I looked in all the cupboards and the drawers and the safe-”

“You went in Uncle Bill’s safe?” I’m agog. “Wow. What’s in there?”

“Bits of paper and hideous jewels,” says Sadie impatiently. “I was about to give up, when I walked past a dressing table and there it was.”

I can’t believe it. I’m popping with anger. Uncle Bill just sat in front of me and said he didn’t know anything about any dragonfly necklace. He’s a lying … liar. We have to make an action plan. As quickly as I can, I reach inside my bag for a notebook and pen.

“Something’s going on,” I say, writing Action Plan at the top of a page. “There has to be a reason he took it and a reason he’s lying.” I rub my brow in frustration. “But what? Why is it so important to him? Do you know anything else about it? Does it have some kind of history… or collectors’ value-”

“Is this all you’re going to do?” Sadie’s voice explodes. “Talk, talk, drone, drone? We need to get it! You need to climb through the window and get it! At once!”

“Er…” I look up from my notebook.

“It’ll be quite easy,” Sadie adds confidently. “You can take off your shoes.”

“Right.”

I’m nodding. But truth be told, I don’t feel absolutely prepared for this. Break in to Uncle Bill’s house right now? Without making a plan?

“The only thing is,” I venture after a moment, “he’s got lots of security guards and alarms and stuff.”

“So what?” Sadie’s eyes narrow. “Are you frightened of a few alarms?”

“No!” I say at once. “Of course not.”

“I bet you are!” she cries derisively. “I’ve never known such a ninny in all my life! You won’t smoke because it’s dangerous! You wear a safety belt in the motor because it’s dangerous! You won’t eat butter because it’s dangerous!”

“I don’t think butter’s dangerous,” I retort indignantly. “It’s just, you know, olive oil spread has got better fats…”

I trail off at the contemptuous look on Sadie’s face.

“Are you going to climb in through the window and get my necklace?”

“Yes,” I say, after only a split-second pause. “Of course I am.”

“Well, come on, then! Stop the car!”

“Stop bossing me about!” I say resentfully. “I was just about to.”

I lean forward and open the glass partition between us and the driver. “Excuse me? I’m feeling carsick. Could you let me out, please? I’ll go home by tube. I’m not dissing your driving or anything,” I add hastily, as I see him frowning into the rearview mirror. “You’re great. Really… er… smooth action.”

The car pulls over and the driver looks around dubiously. “I’m supposed to take you home to your door.”

“Don’t worry!” I say, clambering out. “Honestly, I just need some fresh air, thanks so much…”

I’m already on the pavement. I bang the door shut and give the driver a little wave. He shoots me one last suspicious glance, then does a three-point turn and heads back toward Uncle Bill’s house. As soon as he’s out of sight, I start retracing my path, keeping unobtrusively to the side of the road. I round the corner, see Uncle Bill’s gates ahead, and pause.

The gates are closed and they’re massive. The security guard is there in his glass box. CCTV cameras are everywhere. You don’t just march straight in to Uncle Bill’s house. I need a strategy. I take a deep breath and approach the gates, looking as innocent as possible.

“Hi! It’s me again, Lara Lington,” I say into the pedestrian intercom. “I left my umbrella behind. Silly me!” After a moment, the guard opens the pedestrian gate for me and leans out of his window.

“I’ve spoken to Sarah. She doesn’t know anything about an umbrella, but she’s coming down.”

“I’ll meet her, save her the trouble!” I say brightly, and hurry past before he can protest. OK. I’m past one hurdle.

“Tell me the minute he looks away,” I mutter to Sadie out of the side of my mouth. “Say ‘Now.’”

“Now!” she says suddenly, and I dodge to the side of the path. I take a few steps across the grass, then drop down, roll behind a hedge, and come to a stop like someone in an action film.

My heart’s thumping hard. I don’t even care that I’ve run my tights. Through the hedge I can see Sarah crunching swiftly down the drive, a perturbed expression on her face.

“Where is she?” I hear her voice drifting up from the front gates.

“… saw her a moment ago…” The guard sounds baffled.

Ha!

Actually, not ha. They might start looking for me with Rottweilers in a minute.

“Where is it?” I whisper to Sadie. “Guide me. And keep a lookout!”

We start making our way over the lawn toward the house, dodging from hedge to water feature to prizewinning sculpture. I keep freezing as people walk down the drive. But so far no one’s spotted me.

“There!” We turn the corner and Sadie nods at a set of French doors on the second-floor level. They’re ajar, and open onto a terrace with steps up to it from the garden. I won’t need to clamber up the ivy after all. I’m almost disappointed.

“Keep guard!” I mutter to Sadie. I creep toward the steps, slip off my wedges, and run up them silently. Cautiously, I approach the ajar French doors-and catch my breath.

There it is.

It’s lying on a dressing table, just inside the room. A long double row of beads in shimmering yellow glass, with the most exquisite carved dragonfly, inlaid with mother-of-pearl and studded with rhinestones. It’s Sadie’s necklace. Iridescent and magical, just as she described it, although it’s longer than I imagined and a few of the beads are a little battered.

As I gaze at it, I feel overcome by emotion. After all this time. After all the hunting, the hoping; after secretly wondering if it even existed anymore… here it is. Only a few feet away from me. I could practically lean over and touch it without even entering the room.

“It’s… stunning.” I turn back to Sadie, my voice a little choked. “It’s absolutely the most beautiful thing I’ve ever-”

“Get it!” She’s whirling her arms in frustration, her beads jangling. “Stop talking! Get it!”

“OK, OK!”

I swing the French doors open, take a tentative step inside, and am just reaching toward the necklace, when I hear footsteps approaching the room. In what seems like a nanosecond, the door is thrown open. Shit. Someone’s coming in.

In panic, I reverse onto the terrace and duck to one side.

“What are you doing?” demands Sadie from below. “Get the necklace!”

“Someone’s in there! I’ll wait ’til they’ve gone!”

In an instant, Sadie is up on the terrace and poking her head through the glass into the room.

“It’s a maid.” She glares at me. “You should have grabbed it!”

“I’ll get it in a minute when she’s gone! Don’t stress! Just keep a lookout!”

I back right against the wall, praying that the maid or whoever she is doesn’t decide to come out on the terrace for a breath of fresh air and madly thinking of excuses if she does.

Suddenly my heart jumps as the French doors start moving-but they’re not opening. They close with a firm clunk. The next thing I hear is the click of a key being turned.

Oh no.

Oh no, oh no.

“She’s locked you out!” Sadie darts into the room, then out again. “Now she’s gone! You’re stuck! You’re stuck!”

I rattle the French doors, but they’re well and firmly locked.

“You idiot!” Sadie is beside herself with fury. “You absolute fool! Why didn’t you just grab it?”

“I was about to!” I retort defensively. “You should have gone to check if anyone was coming!”

“Well, what are we going to do?”

“I don’t know! I don’t know!”

There’s silence as we face each other, panting slightly.

“I need to put my shoes on,” I say at last. I head down the steps and slip on my wedges. Above, Sadie is still darting in and out of the room in frustration, as though she can’t bear to relinquish her necklace. At last she gives up and joins me on the grass. For a few moments neither of us meets the other’s eye.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t quicker at grabbing it,” I mumble at last.

“Well,” says Sadie, clearly making a supreme effort. “I suppose it wasn’t completely your fault.”

“Let’s go around the house. We may be able to slip in somewhere. Go inside and see if the coast is clear.”

As Sadie disappears, I creep cautiously over the grass and start moving along the wall of the house. I’m making slow progress, because every time I pass a window I duck down and crawl on my stomach. Although that won’t exactly help if one of the security guards comes along-

“There you are!” Sadie pops out of the wall beside me. “Guess what?”

“Jesus!” I clasp my chest. “What?”

“It’s your uncle! I’ve been watching him! He’s just been to his safe in his bedroom. He looked in it, but he couldn’t find what he wanted. Then he banged it shut and started shouting for Diamanté. The girl. Odd name.” She wrinkles her nose.

“My cousin.” I nod. “Another of your great-nieces.”

“She was in the kitchen. He said he needed a private word and sent all the staff away. Then he demanded, had she been going in his safe and taking things? Then he said an old necklace was missing and did she know anything about it?”

“Oh my God.” I stare back at her. “Oh my God! What did she say?”

“She said no, but he didn’t believe her.”

“Maybe she’s lying.” My mind is working overtime. “Maybe that’s her bedroom, where the necklace was.”

“Exactly! So we have to get it now, before he realizes where it is and locks it away again. There’s no one around. All the staff have got out of the way. We can go through the house.”

I haven’t got time to think about whether this is a good idea or not. My heart pumping, I follow Sadie to a side door and in through a laundry room as big as my whole flat. She beckons me through a pair of swing doors, down a passage, then holds up a hand as we reach the hall, her eyes widening warily. I can hear Uncle Bill shouting, his voice increasing in volume.

“… private safe… personal security… how dare you… code was for emergencies only…”

“… not bloody fair! You never let me have anything!”

It’s Diamanté’s voice, and it’s getting closer. On instinct, I dart behind a chair and sink down, my knees trembling. The next moment she strides into the hall, wearing a strange asymmetrical pink miniskirt and a teeny-tiny T-shirt.

“I’ll buy you a necklace.” Uncle Bill comes striding in after her. “That’s no problem. Tell me what you need, Damian will find it-”

“You always say that!” she shrieks at him. “You never listen! That necklace is perfect! I need it for my next Tutus and Pearls show! My whole new collection is based on butterflies and insects and stuff! I’m a creative, in case you hadn’t realized-”

“If you’re so creative, my love,” says Uncle Bill with a sarcastic edge, “why have I hired three designers to work on your dresses?”

For a moment I’m gobsmacked. Diamanté uses other designers? The next minute I can’t believe I didn’t work that one out before.

“They’re… fucking … assistants!” she screams back. “It’s my vision! And I need that necklace-”

“You’re not using it, Diamanté.” Uncle Bill’s voice is ominous. “And you’re never going in my safe again. You’re going to give it back to me right now-”

“No, I’m not! And you can tell Damian to fuck off, he’s a git.” She runs up the stairs, closely followed by Sadie.

Uncle Bill looks so furious, it’s as though he’s not quite in possession of his faculties. He’s breathing heavily and thrusting his hands through his hair as he gazes up the grand staircase. He looks so uncool and out of control, I almost want to giggle.

“Diamanté!” he shouts. “You come back here!”

“Fuck off!” comes a distant cry.

“Diamanté!” Uncle Bill starts to stride up the stairs himself. “That’s it. I won’t have this-”

“She’s got it!” Sadie’s voice is suddenly in my ear. “She’s taken it! We need to catch her! You go round the back. I’ll guard the front stairs.”

With scrambling legs I get to my feet, run back down the passage, through the laundry room, and out onto the lawn. I sprint breathlessly around the house, not caring if anyone sees me-and stop dead in dismay.

Shit.

Diamanté is in a black, open-top Porsche, heading down the gravel at speed toward the front gates, which are hastily being opened by the security guard.

“Noooo!” I wail before I can stop myself.

As Diamanté pauses to exit, she flicks a V-sign back at the house and the next minute is out on the street. In her other hand I can just see Sadie’s necklace, wrapped around her fingers, glinting in the sunshine.