Above her, the clouds began to gather, shutting out the summer sunlight and casting a grey shadow over her world. But, as she wandered along the pavement, Toni seemed oblivious to the dip in the weather. Nothing was going to spoil her mood.

It was Thursday, and her favourite night of the week. Every Thursday evening, at 6pm, she met with the ladies from her book club. They chatted about the book they had all been reading, whined about their dull husbands, ate cake, and put the world to rights over a few glasses of Chardonnay. The evening felt no different to any other as Toni made her way towards Marion’s house, looking forward to the next couple of hours.

Toni and her husband’s bungalow was on a residential street to the east of Cambridge, just off Newmarket Road. Number 9, Ditton Way, was a small red brick, 1950s dwelling that was well kept. Toni’s husband, Gerald, was a keen gardener. Toni joked that it was the only thing he was good at.

The couple had met online five years previously, after Toni’s first marriage to Mike had collapsed.

Gerald was everything Mike wasn’t: reliable, trustworthy, hardworking, and dull. Toni secretly wished that her marriage to Mike had worked out, but his alcohol problem became too much for her to cope with and she left him; the only blessing was that they’d never had children.

In Gerald she’d found a companion, one who could be compared to a lapdog. He doted on Toni, which she encouraged. Not only was he ten years her senior, he had never been married and therefore had no baggage, which appealed to Toni who liked to be in control of every aspect of her life.

As she crossed the road she felt the phone in her bag vibrate. When she reached the other side of the quiet street she checked the message.

See you soon sweets xx

The message was from Shirley, her friend and fellow book club attendee, who she would be seeing very soon at Marion’s house, on the other side of town in Cherry Hinton.

Toni responded with two kisses before dropping her phone back into her bag and smiling to herself, trying to ignore her new heels that were rubbing against her ankles.

As she walked towards the bus stop, Toni had the feeling she was being followed. It was still broad daylight, so she dismissed the strange notion and waited patiently beneath the bus shelter for the number 5 to show up.

When an elderly woman pulling a purple floral trolley-bag came and joined her, Toni felt much better, despite the fact she couldn’t shift the uncomfortable feeling of being watched.

The old woman, who had more facial hair around her chin than most men in their forties, sat down heavily on the bench and grunted as she searched for something in the compartment of her trolley-bag.