As soon as she heard the door closing, she put the tea down and stood. She still felt a little woozy, but she’d do. Ignoring the pain medication she’d got from the hospital pharmacy, she went to the kitchen and found a packet of paracetamol. While she was on her feet, she got her handbag, took out her phone and plugged it in to charge. The inspector’s card was tucked beneath it. She slipped it into her pocket.

Back on the sofa, she swallowed two pills with a sip of tea and leaned back. Her ribs hurt. They would do for a few weeks, according to that pleasant nurse who’d discharged her. But at least she could feel. If that car had hit her full on, she’d be lying in a morgue.

Pushing the cushion into a more comfortable position, she rested her head against it and closed her eyes. Some of the medication they’d given her in the hospital was probably still in her system because she felt incredibly tired. Her eyes drifted closed, and she felt herself falling into a deep sleep when the doorbell chimed, startling her awake. Immediately, her heart began thumping and a nervous tremor ran down her legs.

She wasn’t expecting anyone. Whoever it was would soon go away when they saw no sign of life. But it rang again, for longer, stopping, then chiming again. Swearing softly, she struggled to her feet, wincing as her ribs complained. For a second, her head spun, and she thought she was going to faint. With a loud gulp and a deep breath, she crossed the room in her bare feet.

At the front door, she put her hand to the doorknob, then stopped. Someone had tried to kill her, maybe she shouldn’t open it. She gave a quick look back to the living room, wishing she had her phone, wondering if she should ring the police. She was still trying to decide what to do when the sound of someone hammering the door knocker made her yelp with fright.

It was loud enough to alert the person on the other side of the door to her presence. ‘Molly? Mol, are you there? It’s me, Mol, Amelia. I’ve only just heard about your accident.’

Despite her suspicions, despite everything, all Molly could remember was the friend she’d known for so many years. Were her suspicions as preposterous as the inspector thought? Anyway, Amelia was hardly going to try to kill her in her own home. On that positive thought, she opened the door.

Amelia’s concern seemed so genuine Molly felt tears well. ‘Oh, Amelia,’ she said, stepping back to let her inside, ‘it’s been awful.’ Back in the living room, she made an attempt at hospitality. ‘Would you like tea or coffee?’