“Thank you,” Lizzie said, overwhelmed. She turned to the back of the magazine. A bewildering array of activities met her eye: badminton, crafting, horticulture, knitting, the soup and pudding club... There was yoga, but probably not the type of class she was accustomed to doing at the World’s End Studio in Camden, which was generally accepted to be London’s premier urban yoga experience.

“Perhaps I could try something new,” she said weakly. “The art society? I’m very poor at drawing.”

“What an excellent idea.” Avery smiled warmly. “Everyone wants to be a celebrity these days so it’s refreshing to meet a celebrity who wants to learn a new skill.”

“I expect there’s a reality TV show already showing celebrities doing that,” Lizzie said. “And if there isn’t, there soon will be.”

Avery kissed her cheek, gathered up the empty basket and gave her a little wave. “I’ll see you soon, my dear. Just call around if you need me.”

The air seemed to buzz and quiver before settling after her departure. In the sudden silence, Lizzie’s phone rang. When she saw that it was Bill her heart sank.

“Lizzie! Where the hell are you?” Bill sounded exactly the same, as though they had never had an almighty row, as though she hadn’t ever been arrested, as though she hadn’t dismissed the lawyers he’d sent. “You disappeared from London before I could get hold of you.”

“Hello, Bill,” Lizzie said. “I’m so glad you called. I wanted to ask you—”

“Look, Lizzie, I’ve had The James Gordon Show on,” Bill interrupted. “They want you for an interview tonight. It’s a special feature on public shaming; from golden girl to enemy of the people sort of thing. There’ll be you, and that politician who faked his expenses and was sent to jail, and a kid who was a chess champion until they worked out he’d been cheating—”

“Bill.” It was Lizzie’s turn to interrupt. “No. Just—no.”

“I know it’s short notice,” Bill continued, “and that you won’t be able to talk about the legal case since it’s ongoing, but you can drop a few hints, I’ll get the lawyers to brief you. I’ll send a car if you tell me where you are. And the producers of Famous and Frozen have been in touch. You know, it’s the show where celebrities are abandoned in the Arctic for weeks with just a tent and a few tins of food. They thought the public might like to see you tackling something like that as a kind of punishment—”

“Again,” Lizzie said. “No. Thank you. But as you’re on the line, can I ask you why you let The High get so run-down when I was paying for a caretaker and a gardener?”

“Where?” Bill said. “Look, where are you?”

“At The High,” Lizzie said, “hence the question.”

“Right,” Bill said, “right.” He sounded slightly more cautious now, as though the penny had finally dropped. “You’re in Burford. Of course—that’s where you said you’d go. I didn’t really think you’d do it.”