‘I’ll try not to. Now, I have to go. I have a bath to run and a book to finish.’

‘It’s a hard life! I’ll say night night then. And don’t forget to talk to your mum, so I don’t have to.’

Prue sat for a while after the call had ended, tucked her feet up beneath her on the sofa and finished her Coke. Her hunch about Madi being a lot older was right then. She hoped she was settling in and that the villagers were showing her a warm welcome. That was one thing Shelling did well. Unlike London, where, she was beginning to realise, weeks, or possibly even years, might go by, living in a block like this, without even your closest neighbours knowing who you were or anything about you. God help her if she got ill, like Madi, or fell over and knocked herself out or broke a leg or something. What would happen to her then, she wondered, when absolutely nobody, not even her own family, knew she was there?

Chapter 10

It’s a woman in there. And young, by the sound of things.

It’s so tempting. All I have to do is find myself in the hallway at the same time, make it look like I’ve bumped into her by accident, say hello.

Curiosity satisfied.

Cover blown.

No, it’s best I keep my distance. Our paths will cross soon enough, I’m sure. No need to force it.

I’m fairly sure she’s in there on her own – there’s been no sign of the actress for days now – but I’m still not sure who she is. What connection there is between them. A fellow actress? A niece? A daughter, even? I think it unlikely, but it wouldn’t be the first secret that woman’s kept.

I could go in there while she’s out, have a poke about, but it’s a risk, not knowing where she’s gone, how long for, when she might come back. Her habits are still a mystery. She is still a mystery. And I’ve never dared do it in broad daylight before. But it’s tempting, just the same. And I’ve never been one to resist temptation …

Chapter 11

MADI

The first batch of redirected mail arrived on Saturday morning, the young postman knocking and handing it to her with a cheery ‘G’morning’ rather than just dropping it through the letterbox in the door. Madi could see without opening it that the top envelope was from the NHS. What now? Surely, with her chemo sessions over and her medication sorted out for the next few weeks, there couldn’t be anything else they needed to tell her? She felt half inclined to ignore it, but that probably wouldn’t be wise, so she sat herself down with a cup of strong tea and forced herself to open it.

It was funny how cancer took over your life, she thought, as she realised with relief that the letter had nothing to do with her treatment at all. Normal life went on just as it did before. The world didn’t stop turning. Of course, there were other reasons the NHS might be getting in touch and this was simply a reminder that she hadn’t given blood for a while and that current stocks of her blood type were running low. Not that she was probably allowed to give any now, what with all the drugs whooshing round her system, and so recently after surgery. No doubt one department hadn’t communicated that information to the other.