‘Quite a story.’

‘The true ones are always the best.’

‘So, Madi’s your tenant! Well, yours and your mum’s. This flat is technically yours.’

‘Yeah, the best flat in the block too. Mum isn’t happy about that. The penthouse, she calls it! Which is a bit of an exaggeration. Thinks we should be living in it. She never even speaks to Miss Cardew now.’

‘Seems a bit extreme, falling out over something like that.’

‘Tell me about it!’

‘And is it? The best flat?’

‘Oh, definitely. Top floor. Beautifully decorated. Nice fittings. Well, look at it. We could be in The Ritz! But it’s not something to get jealous about, is it? And I quite like our flat. I can’t see Mum moving, not any more. But Mum feels safer staying put, because she knows her way around in our place. By feel, or sixth sense or something. Never bumps into anything unless I move things about.’

‘Do you think she’d …?’

‘What?’

‘Like to get out a bit more, get involved with my plans for the garden? I know you said she works, doing phone stuff, so she does at least get to talk to people, but still it can’t be much fun being stuck indoors on her own so much. There must be something she could help with. And, if she part owns the place, she might feel more invested in it than some of the tenants.’

‘Well, I could ask, but she’s not really one for other people. She does come out with me sometimes. For a walk or whatever, in the evenings when I’m not working, but it’s not like she can enjoy a film or a museum, or even read a book any more, and there’s nothing that really motivates her these days. She does a bit of cleaning in the flat, but it’s hit and miss. I usually have a quick wipe round after she’s finished and do the bits she’s missed.’

‘How old is she, Aaron?’

‘Erm, let’s think now. Forty-four, I think. No, forty-five.’

‘God, really? That’s way too young to be a hermit. Let’s see if we can get her out and doing something again. Does she like plants? Flowers?’

‘Only the ones that smell nice. Not a lot of good otherwise, are they, if you can’t see them? Or eat them!’

‘We could do a sensory garden!’ Where had that idea sprung from? Now it had popped into her head, she just had to run with it. ‘Wind chimes for sound. Plants with strong scents, and ones she can rub between her fingers, like herbs, lavender …’

‘You’re getting carried away again. You’re leaving soon, remember?’

‘But you’re not. Oh, come on, let’s put all that artistic talent of yours into something useful.’

‘What artistic talent? You make your plans if you must, and I’ll do what I can to help you, but don’t count on Mum. She’s a tough nut to crack.’

Chapter 22

MADI

The darkroom was a big disappointment. It had wooden workbenches running around three sides, and a cupboard high on the back wall that dropped dead spiders all over Madi’s shoulders when she forced open its rather creaky door. There were a few old dusty chemical bottles inside, a sink with old-fashioned rusted taps, and a line of string running across from one corner of the ceiling to another, with pegs that must have once held the photos as they dried, but otherwise nothing of any interest. But if it was cleaned up a bit, it might make a useful space.