‘It’s all over the papers.’

‘What is?’

‘The attack on that young girl, right here at Belle Vue Court.’

‘Oh, it’s just so awful.’ She could hear the sob in her voice, but it wasn’t for Prue. It was for George, whom she had so badly wanted to see.

‘They didn’t say which flat, but it didn’t take a genius to work it out. A top-floor flat. Staying at the home of an actress. How do they get access to all this stuff?’

‘I have no idea. No reporters have been here as far as I know. Unless …’

‘What?’

‘Stan. That old busybody downstairs would sell his own mother given half the chance. He has his nose into everything. He’d have seen the police, the ambulance, probably even watched poor Prue being carried out. You can bet your life he’d be more than happy to talk.’

‘Well, I hope they didn’t pay him anything, the bloody ghoul! But what’s been going on here, Mum? Who was this girl and why was she here?’

‘Oh, it’s so good to see you, but come on in, George. Please. Let’s not give Stan any more to gossip about. He’s probably down there right now, listening up the stairs with his notebook out!’

It felt strange having her son back, large as life, in her living room. He had lived here as a child, in between long stays with his grandparents, but he had moved out as a young man, and she couldn’t remember the last time he had visited. It must be at least a year ago. It felt even stranger when he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her. But nice. Oh, so nice …

‘I was so worried. Are you sure you’re okay? You feel thinner. You haven’t been dieting for a part?’

‘No. Not everything in my life is for a part. I’m just thinner, that’s all.’

He pulled back and looked at her more closely. ‘What aren’t you telling me?’

‘I could say the same to you. Not a word in months. I have no idea what’s been happening in your life either. And Jessica? You said she’d left. Are you …?’

‘We’re working on it, Mum. And she came back, which is what counts.’

‘Not divorcing then?’

‘Oh, God, no. I love her, Mum. And she loves me. It’s just the baby-making thing, you know. Hospitals, tests, embryos, failure … all the stress of it, not to mention the cost. It took its toll. On both of us. Some days I just wanted to bury my head under the covers and never come out.’

‘IVF, do you mean? I didn’t know you’d taken things that far.’

‘You didn’t ask.’

‘That’s not fair. It’s private, isn’t it? Infertility, and all that sort of thing. You tell people when you’re ready, and maybe you weren’t.’

‘Maybe not. But you know now. And we’re going to have another go. At our marriage, and at the treatment. But I didn’t come here to relive all that. I came here for you. To make sure you’re all right. Come on. I know something’s up, and it’s not just this attack business.’