She dressed warmly, ate a leisurely breakfast and then took her mum’s present down the road to the post office. She had been right about the weather. There was a definite change for the better. She checked for post in the box in the hall on her way back, found nothing, then ran up both flights of stairs to make herself a coffee and collect her book.

Within minutes she was back at the foot of the stairs. Just as she had hoped, there was a small door hidden away in a corner behind the staircase, and the key fitted. The hinges creaked as if, just like the garden itself, the door was rarely used. Stepping through, clutching her mug and with her book tucked under her arm, she found herself standing in a shaded concrete side alleyway badly in need of a sweep, with a smattering of discarded cigarette ends around its edges. A crazy-paving path led around a corner to the back of the building and out onto the grass, which was going brown in places and was full of weeds. Prue wondered who was responsible for looking after it, or if nobody bothered. It certainly hadn’t been tackled for a while, and there was nowhere obvious to store a lawnmower or any garden tools.

She stepped back and closed the door behind her, retraced her steps along the path, then picked her way across the grass to the bench. Even though she was at the back of the building, she had been overly optimistic to have expected peace and quiet and the tweeting of birds. The traffic hummed and roared in the background. The bench was solid enough, but was littered with fallen leaves and encrusted with bird droppings, so at least she knew there were birds, somewhere. She put her coffee and book down on the edge of the path, took a tissue from her coat pocket, and did her best to clear a space to sit down.

It was such a shame that everything had been left untended. Yet this could be a lovely little haven in the middle of a bustling street if someone took the time to work on it. It wouldn’t take a lot. Cutting the grass, killing off the dandelions, a little trim of the overhanging tree branches, a few more chairs and a table, some shrubs and flowers in pots, a little bird feeder hanging from the tree …

But it really wasn’t her problem. In another three weeks she would be gone and Madi would be back, and for all she knew Madi was not the type to enjoy gardening or sitting in the sun. Aaron had said she was an actress, so it was highly likely she spent a lot of time away from home anyway. And there were, after all, eight other flats in the building. All those people, including at least one child if the buggy she’d spotted in the hall meant anything at all … did none of them care about the outdoor space they were so lucky to have? Somewhere they could sit, chat, read, have a barbecue, kick a ball or watch their kids ride a bike?