‘Your job’s really that exciting, is it?’

‘Well, there’s the occasional parsnip.’

Aaron smiled. ‘You’re funny, you know. As well as pretty.’

Prue felt her cheeks turn pink.

‘No boyfriend back at home, pining for you?’

‘Not any more.’

‘I sense a story there.’

‘One for another time maybe.’ She pulled her coat collar up, aware of the sudden turn in the weather. ‘Look at those clouds. I think it’s going to rain.’

‘Can I try a photo? Of the clouds?’

‘Of course. Here’s me worrying about getting wet and you’re still looking for the perfect shot. We’ll make a photographer of you yet.’

‘I hope so. I’m really enjoying all this. It beats my phone any day. It might have all the megapixels and the zoom and everything, but really it’s still just point and click. Where’s the fun in that?’

It was four o’clock by the time they got back to Belle Vue Court. The rain had come down hard as they’d exited the tube and Prue’s shoes were soaked through.

‘I’d best try and get a bit of sleep,’ Aaron said, yawning, as he led the way up the stairs. ‘Not used to staying awake all day. I’m more of a night owl really. Have to be, working late shifts.’

‘I’ll look through the pictures you took, maybe edit them a bit and then you can come and look at them. I could email the best ones to you, if you’d like to keep them. Or we could become Facebook friends and I’ll send some that way.’

‘Cool.’ He took out his phone, the first time he’d looked at it all day, and tapped in all her details – name, mobile, Facebook, email. ‘Harris, eh? Like the tweed? Oh, I know my materials! Mum used to do sewing. Dressmaking, alterations, stuff like that. Surprising what you pick up. She doesn’t do it now though …’ He hesitated but didn’t explain. ‘And I’m a Jones, by the way. Common, I know, but at least everyone knows how to spell it! So, I’ll see you again soon, Prue Harris. But next time, we’ll go after dark, right? I’ll check my shifts.’

She watched him open the door to flat 6, catching a glimpse of a woman’s outline silhouetted in an internal doorway, the sound of a radio and the unmistakeable smell of roasting chicken spilling out into the hall as he disappeared inside, before she walked up the final flight to the top of the building.

The landline phone was ringing as she opened the door, a persistent chirruping sound that echoed around the empty flat. She hadn’t even noticed that the flat had a landline until now, and it took her a minute to track the handset down, tucked away on a windowsill behind the living-room curtain.

‘Hello?’ she said, tentatively, not sure she should even be answering it, but it was too late. The caller had just hung up.

Chapter 13

They’ve been out all day. Together. I heard them laughing as they came back. It didn’t take her long, did it? Trying to get her claws into him. Who is she anyway? The actress doesn’t have a daughter. I’m almost sure of that. I’d know, wouldn’t I? It would have been mentioned somewhere, in all the stuff that gets written about her. About all famous people. Or semi-famous, in her case. Not that they know everything, these celeb-watchers. They never found out about her back then, did they? Who she was. Her relationship with him. That she even existed.