It’s amazing what you can keep secret, if you really want to.

But, from what that solicitor said, it’s perhaps not so easy to keep secrets after death. She had to be told, I suppose. His widow. It was her inheritance, after all. Her life turned upside down. His mess was her mess now. Personal. Financial. It must have been so hurtful, so humiliating, for a wife to be treated that way, to discover the truth, and then to have to keep it all in place. His little house of cards. But she said nothing. Did nothing. Never said a word to me, or to them. And it’s too late now to ask her why.

Still, it’s odd, this girl, some young relative or whatever she is, swanning in like she owns the place, spending all day with a boy so much younger than her, a boy she hardly knows.

Doesn’t she realise who he is?

Obviously not.

Chapter 14

MADI

Madi put the phone down, hanging up on the twelfth ring, just before she knew she would be met with her own voice asking her to leave a message. Of course, Prue would be out and about somewhere at this time of the day, making the most of her London jaunt. Either that or she might feel reluctant to answer someone else’s phone. They had not swapped mobile numbers so Madi would just have to try again later, or maybe send an email and hope that Prue was checking her inbox regularly.

She was no animal expert but the more she looked at Flo the more she convinced herself something was wrong. She was definitely off her food and she hadn’t been outside at all today, just stayed curled up in her usual place on the pouffe in front of the fire, which wasn’t even lit. Madi couldn’t help but wonder how much longer the little cat’s bladder could possibly last out, and whether she’d be mopping the floor by the evening.

She put out a tentative hand and stroked Flo’s back, an action which had always resulted in her rolling over to expose her tummy and producing a considerable amount of loud contented purring, but neither happened. Flo simply opened her eyes and stayed put. Should she try to pick her up? What if she was in pain? Should she wait until she’d contacted Prue? No, it was no use. She really couldn’t just sit here, doing nothing. There was a vets’ surgery just yards away up the lane, and the least she could do was to pop along there and ask for some help.

This time, as she opened the doors, it wasn’t young Sian sitting at the reception desk but Faith Harris, wearing an identical green tabard to the one Sian had worn on the day Madi had arrived in the village.

‘Madi!’ she exclaimed. ‘How nice! Come to arrange our date for tea and cake?’

‘Erm, no, although we must do that soon. It’s your daughter’s little cat. I’m a bit worried about her. She seems very sorry for herself today.’