Serafina and the Virtual Man - By Marie Treanor Page 0,21

a fabulous apartment,” the estate agent gushed, her smile professional and well lipsticked. Her name was Emma. “So spacious and all the original features intact.”

The entrance hall itself was almost as big as Jilly’s entire home. The decorative ceilings were hugely high, with beautiful, ornate cornicing, the floors of lovely, polished dark wood, although large rugs the size of carpets added warmth and colour. Jilly’s eagle eye picked out a few frayed edges in those rugs, a couple of worn patches, and for no other reason that she could think of, the massive, gracious flat began to feel like a home.

The huge rooms hadn’t been cleared out. There were even pictures hanging on the walls: a couple of Highland landscapes that looked as old as the building; a modern portrait of an interesting-looking girl who looked vaguely familiar, with a guitar in her lap; a vivid Edinburgh scene that seemed to push at you from the wall. The pictures didn’t seem to be in any particular style, just bought on impulse, perhaps.

“Nice furniture,” Jilly observed, walking across the main front room, which the estate agent called the drawing room.

“Antique pieces,” Emma said lovingly. “They are available by separate negotiation if you’re interested.”

“Won’t the owner be taking them with him?” Jilly asked innocently.

“Hardly. Mr. Adam sadly passed away.”

“Oh dear.” Jilly trailed her hand along a carved wooden bookcase. It was stuffed with a chaotic collection of classic literature, technical books, and commercial fiction, plus a few books on military history and some political biographies. Genesis Adam’s taste, apparently, had been eclectic. For the first time that Jilly could recall, she wished she was like Sera and could pick up vibes from touching. “Well, if I was his heir, I wouldn’t sell it.”

“Me neither. But Mr. Ewan has entirely different tastes.”

Jilly blinked. “Dale Ewan is his heir?”

“Oh yes. Do you know him?” Emma looked surprised. Jilly supposed her accent was wrong.

“Slightly.” Jilly walked around the comfortable leather sofa to the baby grand piano and touched one ivory key. It gave an exquisite tinkle.

“Needs tuning,” Emma observed.

Bloody doesn’t. Jilly glanced at the huge flat-screen television, the expensive wall-mounted speaker system, and walked on to discover the rest of the house.

It was like the complete opposite of Ewan’s home. Here, Genesis Adam’s interests surrounded her. Books, music, CDs and DVDs, and a massive collection of computer games for all possible platforms. In one room there was a collection of consoles and another television. There were books and chess sets all over the house, and in one room, a war-games table with a battle set out. Around the walls of this room hung antique weapons: a few swords, including a huge claymore, a mace, and a set of curved sabres.

There was even a small gym with scary-looking equipment. Jilly moved hastily on.

The master bedroom had a particularly large bookcase running along one wall, the books as chaotically arranged here as in the drawing room. The bed was huge and sleigh-shaped, the furniture dark wood, very male and unpretentious, however expensive. She could almost see him in here, the stranger who’d accosted her in Ewan’s secret study, lying on the bed, gazing at her with that slightly quizzical smile. He was naked. And now that she’d seen his gym, he had some very nice muscles in his upper arms, his chest and stomach...

Jilly felt a blush spreading through her body and hastily left the room to examine the bathrooms and the kitchen, which was another surprise. It looked like a used kitchen, not a boy-kitchen at all: a large, range-style cooker dominated one wall; there were knife marks ground into the worktops, and one long shelf was lined with well-thumbed cookery books with food crusted onto them.

“Did he live here alone?” Jilly asked.

“Lacks a woman’s touch, doesn’t it?” Emma said, running one disapproving finger along the knife marks on the worktop.

“I like it.”

Emma brightened. “It is a gorgeous flat, isn’t it? And you haven’t seen the best bit yet. There’s a huge attic upstairs!”

The attic was reached by a spiral stair. It was completely floored, and windows had been installed with clear views of the sky. But it was empty. No furniture, no junk, nothing except a lot of power points.

“Such a versatile space,” Emma enthused.

This was his work area, Jilly realised. But his computer, all his computers, presumably, plus all the other equipment he used, had been removed. And as she walked back downstairs and took a last glance around the rest of the flat,