‘You definitely picked the right one!’

‘Don’t I know it? God, I love that man.’

‘Who’s that then?’ Ralph said as they stumbled into the dimly lit waiting room, his voice carrying through from the staff area behind the counter where they found him sitting in one of the armchairs, with his feet up on the other, a mug of tea in his hand.

‘You, you daft thing. How’s Flo? And what are you doing sitting here drinking tea when you should be out the back administering your own special brand of TLC?’

‘For those without medical training, Prue,’ Ralph said, smiling up at them, ‘that’s short for Tickles, Licks and Cuddles. The animals do the licking, of my fingers mostly, and I do the rest. Works every time, better than any medicine.’

‘I’m sure it does.’ Prue laughed out loud. ‘You know, I am so glad it’s you caring for Flo. And Dad, of course. I’d hate to think of her with strangers when she’s feeling poorly.’

‘She’s not so poorly now. In fact, she’s doing really well. Fast asleep last time I looked, which is why I’m out here taking a sneaky rest. By all means go through, Prue, if you want to.’

Prue looked from Sian to Ralph. They both looked tired, and it was enough to know Flo was okay without keeping either of them here any longer. ‘It’s fine. I’ll visit her tomorrow. Night, you guys …’

‘Here, Prue, take the torch. I can share Ralph’s.’

‘Thanks. The light on my phone isn’t really up to the job.’ She slipped the phone into her pocket and headed back towards her mum’s, and the prospect of a warm inviting bed.

Madi was still up, the light on behind the curtains at the cottage as she passed, but it was all dark at Tom Bishop’s next door. It was only as she approached Orchard House that she saw another light, the one shining over the porch door of the annex, its side entrance once the way into the old vet’s surgery at the back. It still felt odd knowing that Joe was living in it, his bedroom where the operating theatre had once been, the waiting area now converted into a small lounge.

She stopped suddenly, in the shadows between lampposts, and switched off her torch. Was that movement ahead, someone walking towards Joe’s door? Surely he should be inside by now. It had been a good quarter of an hour since she’d spoken to him in the street, on his way back from the pub. But no, that wasn’t Joe’s shape, or the way he walked. And, even in that long, black coat, this person was noticeably shorter, and thinner. After all these years, she would recognise Joe anywhere, in any light, and this wasn’t him. It was a bit late for visitors. An intruder then? It wouldn’t be the first time, even in a sleepy village like Shelling. She stood stock still, watching in silence, one hand gripping the phone in her pocket in case she had to call 999.