‘Why?’ Treasure didn’t disagree but he was curious.

‘Because that man, Mr Jimmy Cox, he’s a bad egg. No, I should say even a rotten egg. He has no respect for his fellow shopkeepers.’

Jimmy Cox had frequently stubbed out his cigarettes on the pavement right outside Mr Chowdhury’s establishment, but had never stepped inside to buy any, much to Mr Chowdhury’s annoyance.

Treasure tucked the box under his arm and thanked Mr Chowdhury. ‘You don’t need to worry about Jimmy Cox anymore,’ he added. ‘He’s dead.’

Chapter 31

Chapter 31

Now

‘Na zdarovye!’ Imelda raised her champagne saucer to the woman sitting opposite her at the kitchen table.

‘Bottoms up!’ Esther reciprocated. The two women had been friends since Imelda had walked into Esther’s hairdressing and beauty salon thirty years previously, and they were spending New Year’s Day together at Imelda’s house as had become their custom since their respective parents and Esther’s husband had died. The remains of a delicious fish pie were on the plates in front of them, and Mabel was sitting by the table sniffing the air expectantly with her retroussé nose. Esther offered her plate to Mabel and held it while Mabel literally polished off the pie with her pink tongue.

‘You spoil her,’ Imelda scolded. ‘And they’re my best plates!’

Esther laughed. ‘I’m allowed to. I’m her favourite auntie!’

Over dinner Esther had been telling Imelda about her most difficult client on New Year’s Eve who’d arrived half an hour late for her appointment and then demanded a full cut, colour and blow-dry despite the fact that she was only booked in for a dry trim and it was one of the busiest days of the year in the salon.

‘What did you do?’ Imelda asked.

‘I did what she asked, of course,’ replied Esther with a wicked grin. ‘Although it may not have been the exact cut and colour she was expecting. I can’t for the life of me think how burnished copper ended up being more like pillar-box red. And I did have to cut off slightly more than “just the ends” because her hair was in such bad condition.’

They had also been discussing Billie’s visit and her offer to take over Imelda’s booth.

‘Darling, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,’ Esther cautioned her. ‘And you don’t have to make a decision until you’re completely ready.’

Imelda swigged her champagne and topped up their glasses.

‘I’ve waited all these years to get to know her, worrying that she might want nothing to do with me, because after all why should she? And now she’s here and she does. But sometimes I feel as though I just want to poke this particular genie back inside the bottle. And then I despise myself for being such a dithering old fool.’