‘Thank you, Madi, but I really hope we won’t have to take you up on that. I just want her home now, and to get back to the village and crawl into my own bed. But we’ll stay in touch, won’t we? Well, there’ll be the police investigation anyway, so I’m sure we’ll all need to be kept up to speed on that. You’re welcome to come down to see us in Shelling anytime, you know. And Tom’s been asking after you, according to Sian. She popped round there early, before work, and he was putting Flo’s food down and giving her a cuddle. Oh, and he said to let you know they think the fire was started by a cigarette. Dropped into a wastepaper bin, apparently. He has his suspicions about who the culprit might be but he wouldn’t say. Still, I thought you’d like to know.’

‘Fire?’ George asked. ‘It’s one drama after another around here. What else haven’t you told me about? And who on earth is Tom?’

It was eleven o’clock by the time everyone had finally gone, George insisting it didn’t matter if he was late to work and having one last cup of coffee before following Faith and Stuart out of the door. Madi sat for a few moments and enjoyed the silence. Despite all that had happened here, this was her home and she was glad to be back in it. There were sheets and towels to change, food to buy, post to open, but first she was going to call Tom. He’d be worrying, and she’d left in such a rush …

Besides, she needed to hear about the fire. If it had started because of a cigarette, and they both knew who had been caught smoking, who had been told off for it. Donny’s mate, Ricky Flynn. But should they tell anyone? The police, the fire brigade, the lad’s parents? What good would it do? It had obviously been an accident. Not deliberate, not arson, just a careless mistake. Madi sighed. Why did life have to be so complicated? So cruel? The boy would be feeling bad enough, without the world pointing the finger. Still, nobody had died. It was a building, that was all. And buildings can be rebuilt.

She smiled to herself. George was back, and they were on the way to rebuilding something too. A wave of determination ran through her. Sod stupid bloody arguments over nothing. She should never have let him go, never have lost touch for so long. She could have lost him, and he her. Sod the evil that was cancer. It had taken a piece of her flesh, but what remained was just as strong as ever, or would be, given time. Sod anonymous cowardly attackers who creep about in the dark. They would catch whoever it was, she was sure of it. What mattered above all else was that she was alive, and so was Prue. Hope had triumphed, and that made her feel glad. Optimistic. Surely, things could only get better now?