Charlotte Philby - The Most Difficult Thing

First published in hardback as The Most Difficult Thing

The Borough Press

An imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins Publishers 2019

First published in hardback as The Most Difficult Thing

Copyright © Charlotte Philby 2019

Cover design by Andrew Davis © HarperCollins Publishers Ltd 2019

Cover photographs © Elena Alferova / Trevillion Images

Charlotte Philby asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780008327026

Ebook Edition © June 2019 ISBN: 9780008327002

Version: 2020-10-07

‘Everyone has an agenda in this intriguing exploration of deceit and duplicity, as Philby ratchets up the paranoia to Highsmithian level’

GUARDIAN

‘An enigmatic and slippery beast, a cool new generation of spy novel. Just as the characters play cat and mouse with one another, so does the author with her readers – it’s a guessing game right to the end and I turned the last page with my heart pounding. Recommended’

LOUISE CANDLISH

‘A compelling and emotionally resonant mixture of spy thriller and domestic suspense’

DAILY TELEGRAPH

‘I devoured this beautifully written, intricately wrought and unique blend of spy thriller and domestic suspense. The twists keep coming, right down to that chilling last line’

ERIN KELLY

‘Like The Night Manager rewritten by Patricia Highsmith, this is a distinctively female take on spying’

MAIL ON SUNDAY

‘Dark and addictive and magnificent’

JOANNA CANNON

‘A genre-busting spy novel that amps up the tension and will leave you trusting no one’

RED

‘Spying has been her inheritance and this brilliant, beautifully crafted debut novel uses it to the full – and so much more besides’

JON SNOW, Channel 4 News

‘A writer of promise’

FINANCIAL TIMES

‘Compelling and complex – a compulsive read’

HARRIET TYCE, author of Blood Orange

‘An espionage/domestic noir crossover in which betrayal is as inevitable as it is compulsive’

i PAPER

‘Compulsive and chilling’

GOOD HOUSEKEEPING

‘A page-turning thriller’

BBC RADIO 4 OPEN BOOK

‘Philby clearly understands something about deceit and betrayal, making this a page-turner with several cliffhanger moments, including the ending’

DAILY EXPRESS

‘Intricate, enigmatic, and compelling … Philby is perfectly placed to blend spy thriller with domestic tension’

PRESS ASSOCIATION

‘[A] page-turner full of intrigue and deception … a compulsive read’

PRIMA

‘Fantastic … [a] slick spy thriller’

WOMAN’S WEEKLY

‘A carefully constructed study of duplicity in which the uneasy mood of moral compromise and betrayal never abates’

THE HERALD

‘Absolutely riveting … It will keep your heart pounding to the very last page’

MEATH CHRONICLE

For Rosa

‘To know yourself is the most difficult thing’

Thales of Miletus

Contents

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Praise for Part of the Family

Dedication

Epigraph

Prologue

Part One

Chapter 1: Anna

Chapter 2: Anna

Chapter 3: Anna

Chapter 4: Anna

Chapter 5: Anna

Chapter 6: Anna

Chapter 7: Anna

Chapter 8: Anna

Chapter 9: Anna

Chapter 10: Anna

Chapter 11: Anna

Chapter 12: Anna

Chapter 13: Anna

Chapter 14: Anna

Chapter 15: Anna

Chapter 16: Maria

Chapter 17: Maria

Chapter 18: Maria

Chapter 19: Maria

Chapter 20: Maria

Chapter 21: Maria

Chapter 22: Maria

Chapter 23: Anna

Chapter 24: Anna

Part Two

Chapter 25: Anna

Chapter 26: Maria

Chapter 27: Anna

Chapter 28: Anna

Chapter 29: Anna

Chapter 30: Maria

Chapter 31: Anna

Chapter 32: Anna

Chapter 33: Maria

Chapter 34: Anna

Chapter 35: Maria

Chapter 36: Anna

Chapter 37: Anna

Chapter 38: Maria

Chapter 39: Anna

Chapter 40: Maria

Chapter 41: Anna

Chapter 42: Anna

Chapter 43: Maria

Chapter 44: Anna

Chapter 45: Maria

Chapter 46: Anna

Chapter 47: Maria

Chapter 48: Anna

Chapter 49: Maria

Chapter 50: Anna

Chapter 51: Maria

Part Three

Chapter 52: Anna

Chapter 53: Anna

Chapter 54: Maria

Chapter 55: Anna

Chapter 56: Anna

Chapter 57: Maria

Chapter 58: Anna

Chapter 59: Anna

Chapter 60: Maria

Chapter 61: Anna

Chapter 62: Anna

Chapter 63: Maria

Chapter 64: Anna

Chapter 65: Maria

Chapter 66: Anna

Chapter 67: Maria

Chapter 68: Anna

Chapter 69: Maria

Chapter 70: Maria

Chapter 71: Anna

Chapter 72: Maria

Chapter 73: Anna

Chapter 74: Maria

Chapter 75: Anna

Acknowledgements

Keep Reading …

About the Author

About the Publisher

I felt my abdominal muscles twinge as I lowered myself to sit. The bench by the lamp post at the foot of the bridge, just as planned.

It had been almost two months since the surgery but still the scar was so raw that I felt tearing across my abdomen if I so much as lifted one of the twins at the wrong angle. Letting my eyelids drop for a moment, I pushed the thought of the girls out of my mind.

Open the box, close the box. Just as the doctor had taught me.

They were not so much benches that lined the stretch of pavement along this part of the Thames. More slabs, like a procession of concrete coffins quietly guarding the water.

It was dusk. Winter. The terminal gloom had long set in, and with it the sort of damp cold that gnawed its way into your bones. A thin gust of wind snuck through the opening in my cardigan as I pulled the grey cashmere closer across my breasts, still swollen.