I have a flashback to Demeter in the office, peering at her phone as though nothing in the world makes sense, turning to Sarah with that confused, helpless expression, deflecting attention with some random loud announcement. And now, of course, it all looks like a coping mechanism.

The thought makes me squirm uncomfortably. I can’t believe Demeter is anything other than a powerful, intelligent woman, at the top of her game and just a bit crap at managing people.

She’s pacing around the woodshed now, her face tortured. She looks like she’s trying to solve some problem involving Pythagoras and string theory, all at once.

“I know I saw that email,” she suddenly declares. “I printed it out. I had it.”

“So where is it?”

“God knows. Not on my computer, I’ve checked enough times. But…” Her face jolts. “Wait. Did I put it in my raffia bag?”

She looks transfixed. I don’t even dare breathe, in case I disturb her.

“I did. I think I did. I took a bundle of emails home….” Demeter rubs her mud-strewn face. “They’re not on my desk. I’ve checked that too. But could they be in that bag? It’s been hanging on my bedroom-door handle for weeks. I never even…Is that where it went?”

She looks at me urgently, as though expecting an answer. I mean, honestly. What do I know about her raffia bag? On the other hand, leaving a bundle of emails in a bag is a totally Demeter thing to do.

“Maybe.” I nod. “Absolutely.”

“I’ve got to try, at least.” Abruptly, she starts brushing herself down. “I’ve got to give it a go.”

“Give what a go?”

“I’m going to London.” She looks directly at me. “It’s only midday. I can get up there and back by evening. The children are busy; they won’t even know I’ve gone.”

“You’re going to the office?” I say, confused.

“No!” She gives a half bark of mirthless laughter. “I can’t risk going near the office. No, I’m going home. I need to see what I can salvage from my stuff there. If I’ve got any chance of fighting this, I need ammunition.”

“But what about Alex?” I point out. “He’s here. He’s waiting for you.”

“You can tell him what I’m doing when I’ve gone. Either he’ll come chasing after me or, knowing Alex, he probably won’t….” Demeter gives me a wry look. “I’ll just ask you one more favor, Katie. Give me a head start. OK?”


A head start. How long is a head start?