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Half of the treasures in The British Museum were found by him. His wife handed them over when he passed away.”

“And your dad did some digging too?”

Erin nodded, quite unaware that these treasures were stolen. But why ruin her memory of her dad? “No big caches of gold and jewels, sadly. Lots of tablets though. The ancient Mesopotamians wrote everything on clay so much of it is still around, broken up of course. You’re lucky if you ever find a whole one. Dad would be in his study trying to piece them together. He let me help. I took the rubbings. Filled a whole book with them. Just laid them over with tissue paper and got to work with a crayon. It was like magic, watching the cuneiform appear on the paper as I rubbed away.”

“Just tablets? What about other items? What about weapons, armour? Even pots and jars? Plenty of cool stuff out in the desert.”

She shook her head. “If he did I never saw them. They were the best times. That make sense?”

“You were lucky. Plenty of kids would love to have days like those.”

Erin nodded thoughtfully. “But then there were times he was a totally different person, some stranger, and when he looked at me, it wasn’t right. What was going on in his mind, Billi? Mum got worried and sent me to boarding school. She... didn’t want him near me.” Her face fell and she fought back tears. “I wonder if that was what made him do it.”

“You can’t blame yourself for him.” God, what a cliché. She didn’t know how to handle these truths. “Our dads were brought up to be hard, to show no feelings, to hide their pain, ignore it. That’s the path to self-destruction, Erin. Don’t go down it yourself. You have to remind yourself that to feel is the first step to heal. And to share with someone who would understand.”

“Would you? Understand, I mean?”

“I can try, Erin, that’s all I can do.” Billi took her hand and squeezed it. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll protect you.”

Erin watched her silently. She was measuring her, she was desperate to let herself go, but afraid Billi wouldn’t catch her and she’d plummet into the darkness.

Then Erin took a deep breath. “It’s not just my father. There are times when—”

“There they are! Ah, isn’t it sweet?” Brigid shouted from the deck as she fanned herself with her big summer hat. “Billi and Erin kissing under a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

Erin pulled her hand away and sprang up. She wiped her face, transforming the tears into a cheery smile. “You’re early. Where are the others?”

Brigid gestured over her shoulder. “Ardhan’s sorting out the salad. Phoebe’s getting ice for the drinks. Come inside before you get burned.”

Erin clapped her hands and sprinted back up the garden to the deck, and slung her arms around Brigid, leaving Billi to look stupid upon the swing with an empty bowl and nacho crumbs over her lap.

Just clay tablets. That’s all. No jars or vessels of any sort.

A dead end. How was she going to save Ivan? Erin had been her only lead. Billi brushed herself down as she stood up. “I’d better get going.” She’d parked her motorbike beside Erin’s adoptive father’s big Mercedes.

Brigid gazed over at her. “That’s a shame. Your shift at McDonald’s about to start?”

Erin scowled. “Brigid, stop being a bitch.”

But she couldn’t. As Billi came up on the deck Brigid threw one more barb. “I thought you’d given that dress to charity, Erin. Still, Billi will appreciate having something fashionable.”

Phoebe joined them, which was lucky for Brigid. She had a tray with three glasses. She looked at Billi, surprised. “Oh. I didn’t know you were here. I haven’t made a drink for you.”

What was really going on? Was this just them afraid of their clique being intruded upon, or was it something more? Were they trying to protect Erin, in their own ‘Mean Girls’ kind of way? Whatever the reason, it was clear she was not wanted.

Erin though felt differently. “Stay, Billi.”

Billi shook her head. “I’ve got to get back. I just need to change into my biker gear. I’ll leave the dress in the —”

“No. It’s yours. You look beautiful.”

Brigid had the good sense to keep her mouth shut. Erin kissed Billi on both cheeks. “Call me, any time.”

Billi nodded and turned into the kitchen. She paused to smile at Ardhan as they mixed up the salad. But that meant she was still within earshot of the deck, and the conversation.

“I don’t like her, Erin. She’s not one of us,” said Brigid. “She’s not your friend.”

“You don’t know her, Brigid. Give Billi a chance.”

A chance. That’s all I’ve ever asked for.

Billi picked up a tomato and knife. “You know something, perhaps I will stay.”

Erin winked. “Sit next to me.”

***

Was this what life could be like, when you weren’t spending your nights hunting, your days patching up wounds? Just sitting around with food and drink and laughing about who said what to whom and how relationships blossomed and died at Erin’s party? Names flew back and forth, accusations, threats and promises. Grand ambitions were swiftly built and demolished even quicker. Ardhan was off to St Martin’s and was destined to be the next Vivienne Westwood. Brigid had assignments lined up in Japan, her look was always ‘in’. Phoebe was quiet, the peace maker, ever watchful. She tracked the ebb and flow of the personalities and made sure the insults stayed just on the right side of playful.

And Erin ruled over them all. She laughed and encouraged and pouted and grinned. She touched hands, poured drinks, threw food and rocked back on her chair when she laughed, and she laughed loudly. She tottered more than once but she wouldn’t settle down, she loved all this.

Was this what it was like to have friends?

There was an intensity, but it wasn’t the desperate all or nothing Billi felt with the Templars. With the Templars the stakes were always sky-high, never

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