‘Well, someone has to go back to the surgery and check on Flo and I’m sure Prue would much prefer to have her dad and Sian here to chat to rather than me on her first proper evening back.’

‘Still, seven is an odd number at the table, so maybe I should have invited Tom to join us,’ Faith went on, as if she hadn’t heard a word. ‘But since the business with Flo, I wasn’t sure that …’

‘Oh, Mum, don’t be silly.’ Prue looked quite shocked. ‘I’m not angry with Tom for what happened to Flo. It was an accident. And seven’s fine. There are only so many mouths a chicken can feed, even a big one like this.’

‘All the more for the rest of us,’ Stuart said, patting his wife on the hand. ‘Lovely gravy, as ever, by the way.’

‘So, have you seen that errant son of mine since you got back?’ Ken had half-turned away from Madi now and was talking across the table to Prue. He placed a hand on Ralph’s arm, to the other side of him. ‘The other one, I mean.’

‘No. No, not yet. How is Joe?’

‘How should I know? Since he moved back, I hardly see him. Bloody stupid, if you ask me, when he had a perfectly good home with us. And I’m sure you weren’t the only one to think he’d be moving in with you soon enough.’

Madi couldn’t help looking at Prue, seeing the embarrassment that flooded her face.

‘We never talked about that, Mr Barton. He hadn’t made me any promises.’

‘Oh, I know. Enough said. That boy’s never been one to talk much, has he? To share his feelings, or his plans. Bottles things up, that one. The sensitive type, as his mother used to say. But he’s flown the nest now and I don’t have any say in what he gets up to. Not any more. I’m just his father, after all.’

By the time they had all eaten the pie, finished the wine and downed the coffee, Madi was quite surprised when she glanced at her watch to realise it was almost ten o’clock. Ralph had left earlier, promising to phone if there was anything to report from Flo’s sick bed, but no call had come so she assumed all was well. Still, Prue decided to take a walk down to check on her before bed, and Madi walked along with her as far as the cottage.

‘You’re sure it’s all right me staying on here? Only, your mother has offered to put me up if …’

‘It’s fine, Madi, really.’ They stood for a few moments at Prue’s gate, the road dark ahead of them where the sparse line of streetlights petered out, and Prue fiddled in her bag for her phone so she could use its inbuilt torch to help her navigate the narrow lane leading up to the surgery.

‘Hello, Prue. Miss Cardew …’ The voice came out of nowhere, making Madi jump. It was followed by a slow-moving figure dressed in jeans and a black jacket, coming along the pavement, heading in the direction from which they had just come.