‘It’s a dump. Always has been. Glad to be out of there to be honest. Nan’s isn’t exactly Buckingham Palace, but it’s better than that shithole and she lets me do what I want.’ To Shirley’s way of thinking, that probably wasn’t a wise decision on Peggy’s part, but she said nothing.

‘Do you need anything? I’ve still got the spare key. I could get some things sent over to you, if you want?’ She looked down at the bunch of keys in her hand and rubbed the one belonging to the flat between her fingers.

‘I took some stuff but I left my black trainers behind. Send them.’ As usual, his manners failed.

‘OK, I’ll do that. Is there anything else you want?’

‘Nah, nothing.’

‘Text me your nan’s address, I’ll put them in the post later today.’

‘Will do.’

‘And, Dean, I’m really sorry about your mum.’

‘Yeah, well.’ He clearly didn’t feel comfortable with her sympathy.

‘Take care of yourself, alright? If, or when you come back, let me know. I’ll make sure to do a shop so you don’t starve. I know what you teenagers are like.’

‘I’ll text ya,’ he said, and hung up.

Since her conversation with Kim the previous day, Shirley had managed to collect over £200 from the surviving women in the book club. Even Amy had chipped in a decent amount, which surprised Shirley, knowing how Amy had felt about Janet.

As she entered the flat, she decided she’d fold the money and put it into one of the trainers she was planning to post, but the thought evaporated as soon as she was hit by the stench of rotting rubbish. The bins hadn’t been emptied and the room was buzzing with flies that had taken advantage of the fact.

Holding her nose, she went into the kitchen and removed the putrid sack of rubbish from the bin, gagging as she did so, and placed it just outside the front door. For some reason, the flat seemed smaller than she remembered. On the occasions when it had been Janet’s turn to host the book club, she’d always suggested that they met at a café, or a pub, using the excuse that her place was too small. Shirley, having known it was a spacious flat, had always suspected that Janet was slightly embarrassed by it, but standing there she felt bad for having ever thought that. Shirley should have known better. Janet was never really embarrassed by anything, and certainly not her home.