Dolly was out shopping, and Donna was enjoying a coffee and a cigarette in her conservatory. She looked out over the swimming pool and across the perfect lawns to the tennis court. She had planted the lavender bushes herself, also the honeysuckle; on a summer evening the scent was overwhelming. When they had moved into the house the grounds had been a great muddy wilderness. Donna had planned her garden with care, expecting to stay there until she died. She had decided on every plant, every ornament, every blade of grass. She had watched over it, nurtured it, and engaged a gardener who loved the grounds almost as much as she did. The apple trees, pears and the fig tree, had all been lovingly tended. The rose bower was her idea, as was the winding pathway that led around the side of the house to the herb garden. The large conifers provided a natural screen, and the huge weeping willow had been left. She had worked around them, believing that a tree should never be cut down.

She knew she would miss it all terribly. Knew that it would be a wrench. But she also knew she would do it because of Georgio. Anything was worth losing if it brought Georgio back to her. The estate agent was coming at around four-thirty in the afternoon, and Donna still hadn’t plucked up the courage to tell Dolly she was selling up. She was wondering if she should actually tell her everything, felt she should because Dolly was so loyal, but didn’t know whether she could involve the older woman in something that was not only illegal but also dangerous.

Her eyes strayed to the photograph on her lap. It was of Georgio. It had been taken a few weeks before his arrest and it showed him smiling heartily, his perfect white teeth and dark good looks set off to their best advantage. Just looking at it gave Donna a thrill. He was gut-wrenchingly handsome. Always had been. Then the deep depression that accompanied the sexual urge overwhelmed her once more. To have him back, sitting opposite her or slipping into bed beside her, was not just a want, it was a pure physical need.

She stared over the garden once more, her earlier feelings of sorrow at having to leave it gone now. She was left only with her need for the man she had married. She would have him on his terms, anywhere he wanted to be. Without Georgio this place was just a house. With him she would once more have a home.

The loud ring of the doorbell broke her reverie and she strolled through the house, expecting to see Dolly on the doorstep. She was shocked to see instead the familiar outline of Bunty Robertson. Opening the door, she stared into the woman’s face.

‘What can I do for you?’