As she pulled the front door closed behind her, a young man, probably no older than eighteen or nineteen, came hurrying up the steps from the street, one arm stretching out towards the door as if he was trying to catch it before it banged shut. His head was bent down over his phone, a thumb prodding at the keypad, his music so loud she could still hear it despite the headphone buds stuffed into his ears.

‘Oh, just too late,’ he said, looking up at her accusingly as the door closed and switching the music off. ‘I’ll have to find my keys now.’ He started digging around with one hand in the depths of his jacket pocket, still clutching his phone in the other, pulling out a paperback book and an open packet of extra strong mints.

‘Sorry,’ Prue said. ‘Didn’t see you in time. But …’

‘Yes?’

‘Well, I don’t know who you are, do I? I can’t hold the door open for just anybody and let them in, can I?’

‘I suppose not. Not that I know who you are either.’ His glare seemed to have toned down now into something more resembling a look of curious annoyance. ‘You don’t live here, I do know that much.’

‘Well, that’s where you’re wrong, because I do. For the next month anyway. I’m Prue. Flat nine.’

‘Ah, so you’re staying with the actress, are you? I’m Aaron. I live with my mum, in flat six, right underneath yours.’ He located his keys at last and inserted one in the lock, stuffing the book back into his pocket and a mint into his mouth. ‘I heard a rumour she’d been in hospital, that another of the neighbours had been looking in on her, but I’ve not seen her about lately. Not heard her telly so much either, which you do sometimes, with floors and ceilings as thin as ours. Your turn now, is it? To be nursemaid? How is she anyway? All right?’

‘I don’t know actually. And I’m not staying with her exactly, or here to look after her. She’s gone away for a while – a sort of holiday – and I’m here until she gets back. I’m Prue Harris, by the way.’

‘Hi, Prue. Flat-sitting, eh? Makes sense, I guess, not to leave the place empty. Friends, are you? Or family?’

Prue hesitated. This stranger was rather nosey, and it wasn’t always a good idea to divulge too much. ‘Something like that,’ she muttered. ‘But I must get on. See you again maybe?’

‘Maybe.’ He yawned, showing a row of not quite even teeth. And then he was through the door and gone. It closed behind him with a slam.

So, Madi had been ill. Maybe she still was. That might go some way towards explaining her need to get away. She could be convalescing. Clean fresh country air, and a quiet peaceful life. There was nowhere quite like Shelling to provide all of that. And he’d said she was an actress. What with the theatre posters on the walls and the colourful, flamboyant clothes, that came as less of a surprise. She had spotted some sort of a trophy thing on the shelf over the fire too, although the date on it told her it had been awarded many years ago. Slowly, Prue was finding out a little more about Madi, and getting the impression that Madi was probably a good deal older than she was. The only real mystery now was the photo by the bed, and who the man in it might be. She smiled to herself. She was turning into a right little Miss Marple. All she needed was a magnifying glass and a little notebook to complete the transformation. And she’d thought that Aaron was being nosey!