“Well, I appreciate that you’ve done it now,” said Annie. It would certainly make finding the keyhole easier at night.

“Wait till you see this!” said John, darting up to the front steps and opening a small black box on the wall.

The garden lit up with lightbulbs strung above head height, all the way down the path, attached to tall posts along the fence. It was like an enchanted garden. Annie felt her heart squeeze.

“I love it!” she shouted over to John, who grinned.

The shrubs were neat and tidy, mostly thanks to Alfred’s continued attentions, and the new white picket fence was good and sturdy and unlikely to shift even with what the coast wind could hurl at it.

“How much help did John actually give you with the fence?” Annie asked, while—out of earshot—John stood admiring his handiwork farther up the garden and reaching up occasionally to twizzle a bulb so that they hung uniformly.

“A fair bit,” said Alfred. “I’ll give him his due. But he spent quite a bit of time fiddling about with lightbulbs too.”

Annie laughed.

“So, I see. Thank you for all this, Alfred. I really appreciate it.”

“It’s no bother,” said Alfred. “One thing puzzles me, though,” he added.

“Oh? What’s that?”

“Are these really the actions of a man who intends to raze the place to rubble?”

Chapter 72

Alfred didn’t stay, despite Annie inviting him to come up to the flat for a cup of tea. He had “things to do,” though Annie couldn’t imagine what odd jobs he was likely to be doing in the dark. He left shortly before six, his shoulders hunched and head down against the cold as he disappeared into the night. To her disappointment, John didn’t come in either. He had a video call with Celeste and needed to work on the plans for Raye and Aiden’s extension.

“On a Saturday night?” Annie had exclaimed.

“No rest for the wicked,” said John.

Is he trying to avoid being alone with me? Annie wondered. Wouldn’t any red-blooded man be up there like a shot, trying to get his end away?

“What are you thinking?” John asked. “You look miles away.”

Annie brushed it aside with an airy laugh.

“Oh, nothing,” she said, hugging herself against the cold evening. Even with her coat and scarf on, the wind was finding its way in.

“You know I would like to come up, don’t you?”

“Do I?”

“You should.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Because I don’t want to complicate things more than they already are.”

“I’m inviting you into the flat, not my vagina,” she said. Although my vagina would welcome you too!

John let out a laugh that seemed to echo into the black nothingness beyond the garden.