‘No, no,’ Carole responded hastily. ‘Just a touch of cramp.’ The last thing she wanted was her neighbour offering to heal her.

Jude didn’t believe the answer. She’d noticed Carole limping slightly the last few weeks. But she moved the subject on. ‘Oh, incidentally …’ said Jude, ‘sorry about your car.’

Carole was incensed. ‘How did you know about that? Did you see it down at the parade this morning?’ That seemed unlikely. She knew Jude did not share her strict regime of early rising.

‘No, no,’ Jude replied. ‘I heard about it from a friend in the village.’

Carole curbed the instinctive urge to ask which friend. Though she did very much want to know, she didn’t wish to sound needy. In all areas of her life, she expended a lot of energy in trying not to sound needy. Also, there was an element of jealousy in her reaction. Jude found meeting new people so much easier than she did. Carole didn’t want to hear further proof that her neighbour was friends with more Fethering residents than she was (even though Jude hadn’t lived in the village nearly so long).

‘Yes, it was unfortunate,’ said Carole. ‘There’s far too much random vandalism around these days.’

‘Surely better to have random vandalism than targeted vandalism.’

Carole looked sharply at her neighbour. Jude couldn’t be implying …? But the brown eyes looked so innocent, she knew the remark had had no hidden agenda.

For a moment, she felt strongly tempted to tell Jude about the note that had been shoved under her kitchen door. Its appearance had affected her more than she cared to admit to herself. And Jude always offered a sympathetic ear – indeed, much of her job description required offering a sympathetic ear. But no, Carole didn’t want to involve her. Some illogical voice within her said that if she told no one about what had happened, the threat would go away.

‘Anyway, I’ve had it repaired,’ she announced briskly. ‘The Renault is safely back in the High Tor garage.’

‘Good. And presumably, everything was covered on your insurance?’

‘Oh yes,’ said Carole airily.

‘Of course, Shannon should have gone to university,’ announced Rhona Hampton.

‘Uhuh,’ said Jude, only half concentrating on her client’s words. Her main focus was on healing, channelling its power into the frail body lying on the bed. The covers had been pulled back but Rhona had kept her nightdress on, accentuating the pathetic thinness of her mottled arms and legs. Jude just ran her hands slowly along the body’s contours, not touching, translating the energy into comfort.