‘I’ll get something from the kebab van.’

Fishing her purse from her bag, Lou tried to force a five-pound note on Dean. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

‘Do you want to help me put the Christmas tree up tomorrow?’ she said, injecting her voice with as much false cheerfulness as she could muster. ‘I’ll get some mince pies. It’ll be like old times.’

‘No, it won’t.’

Still without looking at her, Dean opened the door, letting the cold air rush inside. He slammed it behind him. Lou stared at the net curtain quivering on the closed door. He was right. She could promise all the sausages and mince pies in the world, but it would never be like old times again. Lou looked desperately at the phone on the hall table. Please ring, please, please, please ring. Three weeks ago, she would have rolled her eyes at someone phoning to fill her in on what they’d had for lunch or what they had planned for tea. Now, all she wanted was for someone – anyone – to call for a chat. About the weather, their annoying ex, some amazing feat performed by an offspring – the more ordinary and mundane, the better.

The letterbox rattled, and she stooped to collect the free newspaper from the doormat. Who was she trying to kid? Nobody phoned to chat anymore. Every awkward and stilted conversation was steeped in sympathy, dripping with kindness. If her family and friends knew the truth, they would delete her from their contacts, scratch her name from their address books, and cut off all contact forever.

Almost on autopilot, Lou unfurled the newspaper and scanned the headlines. She stopped, the newspaper trembling in her hands. Shoved between a report on the recent spate of metal thefts in the area and a story about the Scouts’ Christmas jumble sale, was the headline:

FUNERAL FOR JOYRIDING TRAGEDY WOMAN

The funeral was held on Monday last for Mrs Maureen Arnold (50), the much-loved local woman tragically killed in the latest incident of a joyriding epidemic plaguing Hill House Estate.

The private service, attended by close friends and family, was held at St Mary’s Church. The Rev George Reeves paid tribute to a devoted mother and lifelong resident of the town.

Sylvia Mather, who witnessed the tragedy said, ‘I remember when this estate was a lovely place to live. Now, it’s just a breeding ground for thugs and criminals. ASBOs don’t work. Everyone with one of them lives here anyway. They don’t care about anybody but themselves. They left that poor woman to die in the gutter without a single thought and with her chip suppers spilled all over the road. They’re animals. Plain and simple. Prison’s too good for them.’

Police continue to look for witnesses and ask anyone with information to come forward …

The emptiness of the house echoed around Lou. Next week, the news of Mum’s death would be nothing more than lining paper for litter trays and birdcages across town.