She realised she hadn’t eaten anything since the brownie and cup of tea, which must have been over three hours ago. Time for some supper; crackers and cheese came to mind. There was bound to be a bit of Cheddar or some Stilton festering in the fridge upstairs. A blob of pickle, slices of apple, and she’d be sorted. She was just coming down from the ladder when her mobile buzzed to life on the side.

It was Max. What the hell was he ringing for? He had a nerve.

She didn’t need any more problems right now. She pressed the red button and stopped the call.

30

It was now Saturday afternoon and Emma was painting the final square of wall four, and her family and friends had rallied with her as best they could. She’d had visits from James to see how she was getting on and if there was anything he could do; Holly stayed for an hour or two to help make her energy-reviving tea and biscuits and to hold her ladder in the awkward, wobbly places. Even Maureen, Ron’s wife, appeared with a homemade chocolate cake to apologise for her husband’s absence. Emma was initially a little wary of taking food from a sick household, but it looked so damned delicious she and Holly couldn’t help but dive in on the next tea break. It was as good as it looked, moist, rich and chocolatey with that perfect melt-in-the-mouth texture. In fact, Emma mused, should the baking prove too much, or for extra busy times, Maureen might just be an excellent contact for cakes for the new café, whenever it finally happened.

It was nearly five o’clock and she was on her own now, humming away to Radio Two as she finished the last section of wall. Her lower back was aching, as well as her shoulders from reaching up.

Her mobile went again. Max. Ah, good lord, was he going to turn into some sort of stalker now? She ignored it.

There was a toot outside as some vehicle crunched to a halt beside the shop. She glanced up, but it was dark out there. She just needed to get this last square done, and then she couldn’t wait to get into a hot, bubbly bath. She’d be up early tomorrow and, with Bev and Pete’s help, get all the chocolates back in to the shop and on to the existing shelves again, ready to start business by ten thirty. She didn’t want to miss out on any more trade.

Bloody hell, there was someone banging on the shop door now! Didn’t they realise it was closed? It was pretty obvious, with her up a ladder painting the walls, bare shelves and nothing left in the shop for sale. She had a little wobble on her ladder, then she started dismounting, disgruntled.

She stood stock-still and stared. Max?