Maybe Barb is the one who’s been in here creating issues. It’s not the first time I’ve considered that she’s trying to sabotage my move – although I can’t see why she’d be doing things like this as opposed to stopping people coming to view. What could she be trying to achieve? If she were to be behind things going missing, and strange goings-on with the fuse box, then she’s only making me even more determined to leave and as quickly as possible. And that goes against what she says she wants – for us to stay here, in this house and, if she had her way, for me to get back with Nick. No. It doesn’t make sense that she’s somehow behind it. My mind, however, doesn’t quite let go of the possibility – her motives might not be straightforward.

The doorbell rings, startling me out of my thoughts. Think of the devil …

‘Morning, Barb,’ I say as I open the door and let her in. ‘Thanks so much for staying while the locksmith’s here.’ She’s early, just as Nick predicted, but at least she didn’t get here before I dropped the boys to school. She walks straight through to the kitchen as I pull my shoes from under the stairs and balance against the wall to put them on. I rush into the kitchen to say goodbye. ‘I’ve got to dash, Barb – I’ll hit all the traffic.’

‘I see you broke my cup,’ Barb says, her lips settling into a tight, straight line after delivering her accusation. My spine slumps. She’s going to make me late. And I didn’t break the cup, but I haven’t the strength to try to explain, so merely return her tight-lipped smile and take the blame.

‘Yes, so annoying, it just slipped out of my hand. I’ll buy a replacement when I can.’

‘Hmmm …’ she says.

I can’t believe she’s been so quick to find it. She must’ve gone to the cupboard to get her special cup, then, when it wasn’t there, checked the bin. It was wrapped in newspaper, though, so she obviously unwrapped it to know it was her cup and that it was broken. She goes the extra mile, that woman.

‘Sorry,’ I say, biting my lip and wrinkling my nose in what I hope appears to be an apologetic expression. Then I turn and leave before she keeps me any longer.

I swear I hear Barb say, ‘She’s done that on purpose,’ as I walk out the front door. It’s a cup, for Christ’s sake. Accidents happen.

A niggling voice inside my head says: But you didn’t do it. So, who did?

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Barb