The Biggest Ever Book of DIY was right, she thinks, as the metal spike begins to split the yellow cross. This is not difficult at all. She pushes down, feeling the drill hesitate a little as it goes through the glass screen. It jumps slightly at the level of the components before it rushes downwards into the beautiful spalted ash. When the chuck is almost at the level of the screen, she stops.

The phone is skewered to the table by the drill, with the ring sandwiched between them, like a piece of modern art.

*

There is nothing else to be done. The carpets have been vacuumed, the bathroom scrubbed and taps polished, and the houseplants have been watered. She has tidied the garden, bagged up the last of the fallen leaves for mulch and dealt with the lawn. The last thing she does is to take her own phone back to factory settings. She can’t bear to look at it any longer.

It would be so easy to be vindictive, she thinks, as she stands on the doorstep and locks the door for the final time.

Baxter sits patiently on the path and she bends over to pick up his lead. ‘Come on, Bax. It was me who signed the adoption papers at the Dog and Cat Home, so there’s absolutely no doubt that you are all mine.’

She eyes the keyhole, the tube of superglue in her hand.

Chapter 2

February 2011

‘Good afternoon, M and P Legal.’

The solicitor’s receptionist is calm and competent, thinks Tess. The same attributes she tries to offer her clients. Correction. The attributes she tried to offer her clients. Past tense. She waits while another four calls are answered and put through before approaching the desk.

‘May I speak with Fiona Reid, please? I don’t have an appointment but I’m a friend. Sort of, anyway.’

‘I’ll check her diary for you.’ The receptionist wiggles the mouse on her desk and her eyes flick across the computer screen. ‘She’s due in court this afternoon. Let me just see if she’s in her office. Your name is?’

‘Tess Dutton.’

‘One moment, please.’

There is a discreetly muffled conversation.

‘She’ll be down in a few minutes.’ The receptionist looks at Baxter and smiles. ‘We don’t often have dogs visiting us.’

A few minutes later a slim woman arrives. Her formal suit and precise haircut are at odds with her words, which tumble out into the reception area in a chaotic rush.

‘Tess! I’ve been trying to get in touch with you for days. Is your phone not working? What on earth has happened?’

‘Hi, Fiona.’ Tess chooses just one of the questions to answer. ‘I’m OK, but I had to take a couple of weeks off.’ She gets the good news part out. ‘Don’t worry, I won’t leave you in the lurch, I just needed a bit of space to think.’