And here she was, all these years later, a homemaker, a wife, and a mother. All wonderful roles, and she kept telling herself she was lucky her life was so blessed, but she couldn’t help noticing that everything about her existence seemed to be defined by someone who wasn’t her. She was the kids’ mum, the vicar’s wife, and the house’s wife for that matter.

Becks opened a social media app on her phone. She was looking for a community group she’d joined not long after her husband had been made vicar of Marlow. The group was called Let’s Talk Marlow. When Becks had joined, she’d not used her real name. She’d used the moniker ‘Jezebel’. This anonymity had allowed her to be a bit more loose-lipped online than she’d ever be in real life. But she’d made herself give up on the site a few years ago. It had been altogether too intoxicating having an alter ego, and she knew it wasn’t healthy, especially when she suspected she liked her alter ego more than she did her real self.

For the first time in a long while she went to the forum. A quick scan of the live threads told her it was still mostly preoccupied with the fear of travellers moving into Seymour Park, and the refusal of people to pick up dog poo. So, no change there.

Becks started a new thread.

I’ve got some old furniture I want to sell. I’d like to use the Marlow Auction House, but I’ve heard some bad things about the owner, Elliot Howard. Can he be trusted?

Her finger hovered over the ‘Post’ button. Could she really be so daring? By day, mild-mannered vicar’s wife, but by teatime an anonymous cyber warrior?

Before she could stop herself, Becks pressed the button and the post went live.

A joyous thrill ran through her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been so daring.

The following morning, Judith was sitting at her desk struggling to find a satisfying crossword clue for the word ‘shoulder’. She’d recently noticed that it could be constructed from the conditional word ‘should’ and the hesitation of ‘er’. The difference in pronunciation between the two ‘shoulds’ pleased her enormously, and her instincts told her there was a satisfying link to be made between being unsure – ‘er’ – after having an obligation – ‘should’. But every time she tried to focus on how best to phrase a clue, the image of Elliot Howard popped into her head: how self-assured he’d been when he met her; how smug he’d looked as he’d glanced at the CCTV camera in the church.