She eyed the empty family-sized bag of crisps that Christian had left by the side of her bed. Her mouth instantly watered. The stress of it all was playing havoc with her diet. She listened keenly as Christian opened the door, straining to hear the identity of their caller. Most likely, it was the police. A second girl going missing was big news. But the television in the corner of the room was layered in dust so she hadn’t seen any of the media reports. She didn’t watch mainstream TV. Far too much fornication going on there. She scratched at her smock. The material must have shrunk in the wash. Grunting, she shifted her legs a little further apart and pulled the light blanket up to her waist. Today, she was itchier than a flea on a hotplate. At least she didn’t have to worry about being kidnapped.

Christian’s voice rose from the hall as he allowed their guest inside. It was Sarah. She was calling early. It wasn’t yet seven thirty. She was dressed in black trousers, wearing a crisp white shirt beneath a wax jacket of some sort.

‘I was hoping to catch you before I went to work. Not too early, am I?’ she said, with an apologetic smile.

‘Are you on duty?’

‘No, not yet.’

Elsie’s eyes fell to the bag of shopping in Sarah’s hand. ‘Then come in. That for me?’

‘Yes,’ Sarah smiled. ‘It’s a care package. I thought you could do with some cheering up.’

‘That sure is sweet of you.’ Elsie beckoned her over and shooed the cats off the bed. She couldn’t wait to see what goodies she had brought. Christian had already gone back upstairs. His day began at six, when he would feed the cats, clean out the litter trays then help her wash before preparing her breakfast and tidying up the house. Only then would she allow him to play a quick game on his computer before getting ready for work.

She watched as Sarah rested the tote bag on the table and wheeled it towards Elsie’s bed. Elsie cast an eye over the bag. It was from Turn the Page, a small independent bookshop in town. ‘I got a jumbo pack of Frontline, for the cats,’ Sarah said. ‘You squirt it on the back of their neck, and it lasts for six weeks. Then you won’t have to use the flea powder. That stuff can’t be good for your lungs.’

‘That’s sure thoughtful,’ Elsie replied, wondering if there was anything in the bag for her. She’d heard a new bakery opened in town, and she was dying to try their cakes.

Sarah reached into the bag. ‘Now don’t take offence, but I got you a book.’ Elsie eyed the title The Obesity Code, and sighed. Something told her there wouldn’t be any cakes.