‘Thank you, Madi.’

‘Sounds more like it’s me who should be thanking you. And your garden here is lovely, by the way. The whole village is lovely. I’ll be sorry to leave.’

‘Then don’t! It’s only Friday. We still have …’ She counted on her fingers. ‘Another twelve days of our agreement left, and I’ll be perfectly happy at my parents’ place until then. If Flo recovers enough, I might even go back to yours for a while. So, stay, please. It will be nice to get to know you properly. In fact, that reminds me, Mum wants you to come to dinner tonight. And I’d like that too. You can fill me in about the other residents at Belle Vue Court.’

‘They’re certainly a mixed bunch, aren’t they?’

‘As are the residents of Shelling!’

‘Ah, but that’s what the world’s about. Variety. All part of life’s rich tapestry …’ Madi closed her eyes and tilted her head back, just enough for Prue to spot the join where her wig didn’t quite sit squarely against her forehead. She sat upright again and smiled. ‘Yes, I would love to come to dinner. And no, before you ask, there really is no need to invite Tom as well, just in case your mum has any ideas on that score. We are friends, and that’s all.’

‘And you can’t have too many of those.’

‘No, I don’t suppose you can. Very pleased to meet you at last, Prue my darling. And to add another friend to my list.’

Chapter 27

So, she’s gone. The interloper. Full of crazy ideas, begging everyone for help, and then running off into the night before so much as a spade’s hit the ground. Not to be trusted, that one, pretty much as I suspected all along. Garden, indeed! It might have been all right, I suppose, to help to create something soothing in an otherwise harsh and ugly world, but I’m not going to miss something I never had. Even so, promises should be kept. People should finish what they’ve started, see things through to the end. I certainly intend to.

I should be pleased really, that she’s gone. Excited that I can carry on where I left off, free to poke about again, to roam where I please. I found some trousers today. Left out on the bed. Leather! Well, well, I had her down as a goody two-shoes, but it seems Miss Buttercups and Daisies has a secret side. Leather! Who’d have thought it? Hidden depths, after all. But she didn’t take them with her, did she? Leaving that side of herself in the big bad city, draped sluttishly over someone else’s bed.

But it’s not the same. Since she left – the so-called actress – the edge has gone off it, the thrill nowhere near the same if she isn’t here for me to torment. Visiting an empty flat, without the scent of her, the echo of her, does nothing, fulfils nothing … It’s just curiosity, and that’s not what this is supposed to be about.