She looked me straight in the eye. She didn't look like a professional assassin who had killed sixty-seven times – sixty-eight if she did Samuel Pring – yet the really good ones never do.

'Well, well, Thursday Next,' she said slowly, crouching down to pull some damp clothes out of the washing machine and tweaking Friday's ear. 'Spike holds you in very high regard.'

'Then you know why I'm here?'

She put down the washing, picked up a Fisher-Price Webster that was threatening to trip someone up, and passed it to Friday, who sat down to scrutinise it carefully.

'I can guess. Handsome lad. How old is he?'

'He was two last month. And I'd like to thank you for missing yesterday.'

She gave a wan smile and walked out of the back door. I caught up with her as she started to hang the washing on the line.

'Is it Kaine trying to have me killed?'

'I always respect client confidentiality,' she said quietly, 'and I can't miss for ever.'

'Then stop it right now,' I said. 'Why do you even need to do it at all?'

She pegged a blue Babygro on the line.

'Two reasons: first, I'm not going to give up work just because I'm married with a kid, and second, I always complete a contract, no matter what. When I don't deliver the goods the clients want refunds. And the Windowmaker doesn't do refunds.'

'Yes.' I replied, 'I was curious about that. Why the Window-maker?'

She glared at me coldly.

'The printers made a mistake on the notepaper and it would have cost too much to redo. Don't laugh.'

She hung up a pillowcase.

'I'll contract you out, Miss Next, but I won't try today – which gives you some time to get yourself together and leave town for good. Somewhere where I can't find you. And hide well – I'm very good at what I do.'

She glanced towards the kitchen. I hung a large SO-17 T-shirt on the line.

'He doesn't know, does he?' I said.

'Spike is a fine man,' replied Cindy, just a little slow on the uptake. You're not going to tell him and he's never going to know. Grab the other end of that sheet, will you?'

I took the end of a dry sheet and we folded it together.

'I'm not going anywhere, Cindy,' I told her, 'and I'll protect myself in any way I can.'

We stared at one another for a moment. It seemed like such a waste.

'Retire!'

'Never!'

'Why?'

'Because I like it and I'm good at it – would you like some tea, Thursday?'

Spike had entered the garden carrying the baby.

'So, how are my two favourite ladies?'