The brush in my hand dabs red liquid onto Shirley Dunne’s head. I laugh.

Amy continues. ‘Why do nosy bitches never get killed? I’d love to hear the neighbour’s comments then. “Oh she was a right old cow… Glad to see the back of her… Couldn’t keep her nose out of other people’s business… Never cleaned her bins.”’

I’m trying not to laugh too loud when Shirley Dunne comments.

‘Maybe there’s a lesson in that… Stay alive… Be a nosy bitch.’

Amy throws her head back laughing. ‘I can’t see myself peering into my neighbour’s garden to see what they’re up to.’

Suddenly my mind jumps to the intruder in my garden. Who was it? What were they doing there? Rummaging in the bins? I don’t think so. Not the furthest house in the laneway. There are plenty of bins in the area a lot easier to get at. Scaling a six-foot wall seems a little extreme for the remains of a ham sandwich. Unless of course they were hoping to find the dregs of wine in the bottles lined up for the recycling bin at the bottom of the garden.

The voices around me fade. What will I do? Why was Tom so against me ringing the police? I’m guessing he probably had enough drama after Sunday’s accident, but still, this could be important.

Chapter Fourteen

If there’s one thing that will frighten the living crap out of someone it’s seeing cops outside their house. Which is what I’m looking at now. Two of them getting into their car having just walked out of my garden. What the hell is going on? Did Tom contact them about the intruder in the garden? I doubt it. He was too against me doing it. Or maybe they’re following up my call. They didn’t seem that interested. Still, my chest tightens.

Breathe, Sally, breathe. Cian and Aaron, strapped into their car seats, watch the big police car driving on down the road around the corner and out of sight. I want to run after them, flag them down and ask them but then I remember Sunday, Tom’s accident. The cops must have called to clarify some information he’d given them or something like that. But do they do that? Knock on your front door without any warning and drag your good name to the attention and judgement of the neighbours? Maybe they do. I’m not familiar with their routines. All I know is my heart is beating a lot faster than it was five minutes ago.

Eventually I park the car into a tight spot in front of the house and release the boys from their seats. They both jump out of the car and race towards the door.

‘Daddy’s home,’ Cian calls out when he spots Tom’s car in the driveway.