"So, earplugs, huh?" Will said once we were in the car with the doors closed. "The first Mrs. Roxburgh?"

"I know I'm supposed to side with the deceased, but honestly, if I'd had to live with that woman, I'd have wanted to bump her off too."

"That bad?"

"She'd have nagged Bernard to death if he hadn't got in first."

Will leaned back against the headrest and groaned. "I used to be an officer of the law. Really, I should report it if I suspect a murder."

"And what would you say? The woman died over a decade ago, and there's unlikely to be any evidence left. Besides, you'd ruin Virginia's life again."

He let out a long breath, then reached over and squeezed my hand. "I'm beginning to see why your job's so difficult. Not cleaning. Your...purpose. It's not all black and white, is it?"

I shook my head. "Some people kill because of circumstances—they have little choice. Others snap under pressure or lose concentration and make a mistake, then truly repent. And some of the spirits are real assholes."

Will's laughter made me smile too. "Speaking of assholes... We still need to talk to Arthur and Helene."

A groan slipped out. "Just when I thought today couldn't get any better."

"Sorry. You did good in there, by the way. Would you be offended if I said you were wasting your life as a cleaner?"

Would I? When I was a little girl, I'd wanted to be a surgeon like my daddy. But my mother had other ideas, and I'd sunk into a dark, dark place. Then war came, and I'd lowered my ambitions to survival and a quiet life, pure and simple.

But was Will right? Could I be more?

"No, I'm not offended."

He dropped me off outside Daylesford Hall at four p.m., and I felt a bit guilty that I didn't speak to Lucy so often nowadays. Would it be crazy to ask Will to stop one evening on the way out so I could have a chat? Probably. Assuming, of course, that he was serious about his intention to pick me up every night, something I still felt guilty about, even if Shannon was over the moon. I'd caught her looking at bridesmaid dresses on her phone this lunchtime.

"I'll be back around seven," Will said. "I need to pick up more Kinder Eggs."

"That takes three hours?"

"I have to get proper food as well. RJ never buys groceries, and if I don't go to the supermarket, he'll live on pizza." Will reached out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind my ear. "Stay safe."

I'd officially lost my mind. In less than a week, I'd gone from fiercely independent to checking my watch every five minutes to see if it was time for Will to come back yet.

It was the situation, I told myself. That was all. We'd been shoved together in stressful circumstances, and it was perfectly natural to feel off-kilter.

And perfectly natural to hope he'd kiss me on the cheek like he did with Shannon when he came back. Right?

But he didn't.

When he walked into Daylesford Hall at a quarter to seven, I wished I could turn back time and retract all the "don't breathe my air" vibes I'd thrown off when I first met him. Then he might show me the same affection as he did my friend. But I couldn't, so I had to accept the consequences.

"Where's my Kinder Egg?" I asked, going for playful then panicking in case I sounded greedy.

"In the car, along with your earplugs. Is anyone still here apart from us?"

"No, the last person was Anthony, and he left fifteen minutes ago after he'd paid a visit to the men's room to sponge something off his trousers."

Will made a face. "Porn again?"

"Either that or he dropped coconut ice cream in his lap and it melted."

"Nice. Do you fancy tackling Helene or Arthur first?"

"I already spoke to Helene. She said if we kept fixating on her hotel trips—her words—she was never speaking to us again. I thought that sounded like a good deal, so I asked her how they found the room service."

Will burst out laughing, and for a moment I was reminded of the girl I could have been if circumstances hadn't caught up with me. Happy, confident, maybe slightly snarky if I cared to admit it, which I didn't.

"And what did she say to that?"

"Nothing. She folded her arms and faced the wall. But don't worry, she hasn't got anyone else to talk to, and she gets lonely easily. She won't keep it up. But tonight, I suggest we talk to Arthur."

"I wasn't planning to tell him about his wife and Bernard."

What would it achieve? It would only upset a man who'd spent the last twelve years trapped by his own misfortune. "I agree."

Now we were looking into his death in earnest, Arthur became a little less curmudgeonly. I loved that word. Gemma, my old nanny, taught it to me many years ago in one of my English lessons. I'd called my father that on occasion, and he'd taken it in good humour.

"Arthur, can you give us information on who else would have had access to the bank accounts?" I asked.

"Something tells me that money's part of the puzzle," Will added. "Who else worked with you in the finance department?"

"There were five of us, but I haven't seen any of them around for years. Paul Nelson, the financial controller, he died two or three years after me. I heard some of the staff talking about it."

"Natural causes?" I asked.

"Heart attack. He was fond of a fry-up, was Paul."

So I couldn't find him and ask any questions. "Paul Nelson was in charge, and he's dead," I told Will. "Who else?"

"Davinder Singh did the management accounts. Young chap, right out of college. Always struck me as conscientious. Nervous of Claire, though, which was hardly surprising."

"Claire?"

"Claire Chapman, our credit controller. We never had a problem with bad debt, because Claire offered to visit and collect the cheques personally if they were late."

"Davinder Singh," I said for Will's benefit. "Nervous. And Claire Chapman, scary. You said there was one more person?"

"Celia Marr looked after the bank reconciliations, more or less. Since the banking went online, she struggled a bit."

"And who had access to the account?"

"All of us except Davinder."

"The final person was Celia Marr," I told Will. "Everyone could access the bank except for Davinder."

"What authorisation was needed to make a payment?" Will asked. "Did it need two signatories?"

"Just one. Theoretically, we were supposed to print out details of each transaction and have Paul approve them, but he was off sick so often it didn't always happen."

I relayed the information to Will.

"So, we've got three people to track down. I'll see whether Lloyd Weston can help, but I have to tread carefully because his priority's Helene. I can hint at a possible connection, but it'll be difficult because there really isn't one apart from a proposed information exchange with a dead man, and I'm not even going to try explaining that."

"Celia's most probably retired," Arthur said. "She always said she'd move up north to live near her son and grandchildren when she started drawing her pension."

"How far up north?" I asked. "Do you know where?"

"He lived in the Lake District."

Apart from a suggestion to wear body armour when we spoke to Claire, Arthur couldn't help much more. And I was tired. Will too, most likely, seeing as he'd had farther to travel.

"If you think of anything else, I'll be back tomorrow," I said.

"I know you think I'm callous for doing this. Holding back, I mean." Arthur's shoulders slumped forward. "I remember Helene when she was a little girl, coming to work with her father. She wasn't a bad kid. But there's no other way for me."

"I understand. We all have to play the hands we're dealt."

***

We were two minutes from the flat when my phone rang. Shannon.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

"No. Yes. Not with me. Are you coming home soon?"

"We're almost there."

"Thank goodness. Can you sit with Aisling for the evening? Bethan from work called in tears—her boyfriend's just dumped her, and she's threatening to drown herself in vodka. I need to go over there and pour it all down the sink or we'll be a person short on the early shift tomorrow."

"Sure. Is Aisling in bed?"

"Fast asleep. And dinner's in the oven."

Another reminder of why getting involved with a man was a really, really bad idea. I glanced across at Will as I shoved the phone back into my pocket.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

"One of Shannon's friends is having man trouble."

"Do I need to apologise on his behalf?"

A bubble of laughter escaped. "That won't be necessary. On the plus side, she's already made dinner."

"That's a relief. For a second, I thought I might have to take you out somewhere flashy."

"And after I'd dressed up too."

Shannon ran out the door as we walked in, blowing a kiss to Will on her way past. "Lifesavers! See you later."

And then we were alone, apart from a two-and-a-half-year-old child who usually slept all evening. I checked in on her quickly, tucked into her cot-bed in Shannon's room, and she didn't stir.

"Spaghetti and meatballs, just like she promised," Will announced. "Reckon the meatballs have bread in them?"

"Definitely." It stretched the meat a little further on our limited budget. "But they always taste good."

"I'm sure they do. What's your favourite food, Rania?"

"I don't have one." Not in England, anyway.

"Everyone has a favourite food. Chocolate?"

I shrugged.

"Pizza?"

"That's your favourite."

"No, it's RJ's. I prefer cheeseburgers. Hmm... Cake?"

"If you must know, I like kibbeh, but I haven't eaten it since I came to this country."

"What's kibbeh?"

"A Syrian dish made from bulgur wheat and minced lamb. Or beef, sometimes. My mother used to make it with onions and pine nuts in the middle."

"What happened to your parents? Do you mind me asking?"

"Yes."

"Sorry."

He cast his eyes downwards and twirled spaghetti on his fork, and I felt guilty for snapping.

"My father died when I was twelve, then my mother died when I was sixteen."

"Shit. I shouldn't have brought it up."

"I've... It's... Talking about my old life is difficult. Some days, I wish I'd never left Syria."

"Was staying an option?"

I dropped my cutlery. "No. And that makes being here even more frustrating. I'm not welcome in England, but the people here don't understand that I never wanted to leave my home in the first place. If I'd stayed, I'd be dead, and the spirits... Will, they were everywhere. Thousands and thousands of tethered souls, begging me for help wherever I went. On and on and on and on. I barely slept, I couldn't think, and I never got a moment's peace."

He shoved his chair back and came to crouch at my side, holding both of my hands in his. "I'm so sorry. I wish there was some way I could turn the clock back."

"There is no back, only forward." My voice dropped to a whisper as the lump in my throat grew. "The last night I spent in Aleppo, I nearly didn't see morning. Death came so, so close. As soon as the sun rose, I started running, and I didn't stop until I reached France."

He shook his head. "Inside, you're still running."

How did he know me better than I knew myself? A tear ran down my cheek, and he wiped it away. I didn't protest when he scooped me up and carried me over to the sofa, cradling me in his arms while I sobbed into his shirt.

"I want to help you to stand still," he murmured, and that only made me cry harder.

Tears of relief, because I'd finally found my anchor.