‘With apples from the family orchard?’

‘Oh, you may mock, my girl, but you won’t find a better pie than mine around these parts, whatever that landlady at The Brown Cow may say.’

‘You can be a right snob when you want to be.’

‘It’s not snobbish to know what you’re good at, to know your own worth. I just wish you’d remember that when it comes to your photography.’

‘I’ve been thinking about that, as it happens. About taking it further.’

‘About bloody time!’

It wasn’t often Prue heard her mother swear. ‘Yes, I suppose it is,’ she said. ‘But for now I’m off to see Flo, and then to call on Madi.’

‘If she’s not in, try Tom’s place.’

‘Stop it, Mum. It’s not our business.’

‘No, you’re right. I’ll say no more about it. Are you sure I can’t tempt you to try the cake? You haven’t eaten properly for hours.’

‘I had some crisps and a lump of cheese when I got in last night.’

‘Oh, that was you, was it? When I saw the crumbs all over the worktop I thought we’d had mice in the night!’

‘We’d best hope Flo recovers quickly then, so she can come and chase them away. But, go on then. I’ll have your last slice of carrot cake, and another cuppa before I go.’

It felt strange knocking on her own front door, but it would not have seemed quite right to use her key. For the time being, she had to regard this as Madi’s home, not hers. And she should really move her car off the drive too, maybe start it up to make sure it hadn’t given up the ghost, having been abandoned for so long. She hadn’t given a thought to Madi’s parking arrangements, not having been sure whether she would have come down by car or on the train, but that had to be Madi’s little blue car parked in the road. She’d drive her own down to her parents’ when she left here, and perhaps run the hose over it to shake off the mud and dust.

As she waited on the step, she couldn’t help noticing the last of the tulips bent over in the front garden, and the long-dead remains of the daffodils in the tubs. The grass was slowly coming back to life after a dry winter spell, and would soon be in need of its first cut of the season. It might only be small, but she had missed her own garden, both front and back. Perhaps that was why she had been so instantly aware of the lack of one at the flats. Or one pleasant enough to relax in, anyway. There really was nothing quite like fresh air and flowers, and the tranquillity of dozing peacefully in a chair under a tree.

The woman who opened the door was nothing like she had imagined her. She was shorter than Prue, and a good forty years older, but the flamboyant theatricality she had expected was nowhere in evidence. She looked ordinary somehow, in her loose shirt and jeans, her face make-up free and her feet bare.