Janine shook her head vigorously. ‘As a matter of fact, her curtains are all pulled and she doesn’t answer the door or her phone when I ring. Actually, I’m quite worried about her.’

‘Right, that’s it,’ announced Jackie. ‘I’m going round there now.’

‘But Jackie, it’s almost ten o’clock. She’s probably in bed with one of those sexy Mills & Boons she loves,’ Janine protested. ‘The ones with strong independent women and sizzling red-hot lovers. Suzi thinks they’re all about her.’

‘Then I’ll wake her up. She’ll probably think I’m a red-hot lover and be sorely disappointed.’

Ten minutes later, Suzi sat up in bed when she heard the doorbell, her heart leaping. Could it be David?

The last person she was expecting was Jackie.

‘Hello babes,’ Jackie greeted her cheerily. ‘Me and the girls have been worrying about you. Can I come in?’

‘Well . . .’ Suzi hesitated.

Jackie tried a diversionary tactic. ‘How fascinating. You even wear make-up in bed.’

Suzi grinned. ‘I even frighten myself without it, I look so old. Come on then.’ She pulled her shiny pink kimono a little tighter round her. ‘Fancy a drink?’

Jackie grinned back. ‘When have I ever refused that offer?’

‘It’s only supermarket plonk. It’s cheaper than milk at Carrefour.’

‘I’m not fussy.’

Jackie glanced round. Suzi’s taste could best be described as Istanbul bordello with a touch of French rococo. Her sitting room sported three daybeds piled with velour cushions in exotic designs, cheek by jowl with embroidered spindly armchairs that looked as if they’d collapse if you sat on them.

They sat on a daybed each. Jackie struggled not to disappear into the cushiony depths and had to perch on the edge as Suzi poured her a very large glass of red. ‘Come on then, Suze. Spill. What’s happened to keep you housebound?’

Suzi hesitated, then stuck out her chin mutinously. ‘I’m in love.’

Of all the possible answers, this was the one Jackie had least expected. As far as she knew, Suzi didn’t possess a heart, in the romantic sense at least.

‘Who with?’

‘That’s the problem. He’s married to someone else.’

‘Suze! It’s David Adams, isn’t it?’

‘Yes indeed, it’s David. And I’m pretty sure he loves me. The thing is,’ she embroidered, ‘he has a lot of money worries he hasn’t told his wife about, and he doesn’t feel he can leave till he sorts them out.’ She was adding her own fantasy to the reality, since David had never talked of leaving Steph.

‘What kind of money worries? I thought their place did pretty well. It always seems full.’

‘He owes money for a tax bill he wasn’t expecting. And the other person he owes money to is Steve.’

‘Steve?’ Jackie repeated, astounded. ‘Not my Steve?’