Page 107 of Famous Last Words

The Hales and the Lancasters.

The man who killed the narrator’s killer accidentally, in trying to help. The good Samaritan returns to the scene, and is spotted.

Luke, driving that night to Whitechapel. Using more fuel than she expected. Covering up his locations. Crying over onions. Attending a funeral.

The family of one of the dead teenagers finds out who he is.

Luke, who had people break in to ID him, in a burglary that wasn’t. Luke, who had two men sent to kill him.

She opens her eyes. Could it be? She didn’t notice. She’dbeen so sure it was Adam’s manuscript. And maybe this was his aim. A dead narrator. The story not told from Luke’s perspective. A disguise.

It could be about him.

It could be from him.

She.

Has.

Got.

To.

Get.

That.

Book.

And, if it’s his … he was definitely alive to deliver it to her. She blinks. This thought is too huge, like she’s staring at a close-up and can’t see the whole picture.

She needs to get out of here.

‘Shall we go?’ she says to Charlie.

‘Definitely,’ he says, oblivious to her internal turmoil, not having connected the dots himself.

‘Are you going?’ Stuart says to her as they’re on their way out, unaware. ‘Can I introduce you to one of my newest authors?’ He is standing with a woman in her mid-thirties, who is wearing a long slip skirt and a nervous expression on her face.

‘Sure,’ Cam says, distracted, not wanting to leave work things early again, not wanting to appear still unhinged, still stuck in the past. ‘Hi,’ she says. Charlie’s arm is around her waist, and all she can think about is how she can renege on their plans, her child-free night, and be alone with that book.

‘What are you writing?’ she asks Stuart’s author mechanically.

‘Well,’ she starts, but Cam doesn’t listen to the rest.

She stands there, rictus grin, thinking, My husband wrote his story down for me.

‘… hoping to reach readers who like Lisa Jewell,’ the woman finishes, and Cam is smiling and nodding along. A rights assistant joins them, and Stuart tells her Adam’s delivered his manuscript, and Cam can’t bear to correct him.

Stuart pats her on the shoulder as she leaves, and she’s glad of him, her colleague of over a decade who’s never once asked too much of her.

Cam is silent on the walk from the Tube to her house. She hasn’t found a way to tell Charlie he isn’t coming in, after all. She needs to find an excuse, and quick. She’ll tell him she’s changed her mind about everything.

At her front door, she turns to him, but he’s looking behind him. ‘What was that?’ he says.

‘Huh?’

‘I’m sure I saw someone go into the alley behind yours.’

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