And then the boy too was gone.

The upside-down picture, I thought hazily, something slightly off-kilter. I just wasn’t sure what.

‘It’s only to scare them off, of course.’ Marcus’s smile smoothed over his previous discomfort. ‘He wouldn’t actually hurt it. No harm done.’

‘It helps Beau with his coordination.’ Nella shrugged prettily. ‘My ma bought it for him. Boys will be boys, eh?’

‘Lord, is that the— So sorry, guys.’ Marcus checked his shiny watch. ‘Duty calls – I have a 10 p.m. catch-up with Downing Street. It’s been fantastic to meet you all properly.’

‘Send ’em our love,’ Melissa said brightly, grabbing her bag.

And just like that, our time was over.

At the door, Nella thanked us elegantly.

‘I’m on the case.’ Rex performed that funny little bow again over his stomach, light drops of sweat on his brow. ‘Willow’s case.’

‘That sounds a bit wrong, Rexie.’ Melissa pattered down the steps.

I followed more slowly, my high-heeled mules really hurting my feet now. I couldn’t wait to get into my socks and pyjamas.

‘I mean I’ll look after your daughter, Mrs Jackson.’ Rex wiped his forehead. ‘Don’t worry.’

‘You angel! Ladies, I’ll ping you tomorrow to set up another meeting.’ Still framed like an angel herself, blonde ringlets, heart-shaped face: just as perfect as when I’d arrived. ‘We’ll get Pat from the vicarage along, and Jan, the blogger. Oh, and Lena says sorry she couldn’t make it – but next time!’

Halfway down the road, I realised my scarf must have fallen out of my bag earlier. Having pinched it from Ali’s drawers, and being a memento from her late granddad Glenmore – imprinted with the Trinidadian flag – I thought I’d better retrieve it. God only knew what Glenmore would have made of the Jacksons.

‘You go on,’ I told the others. ‘I’ll pop back.’

‘Great.’ Rex grabbed his wife’s hand. ‘Good to see you, Ruby.’

‘If you’re sure.’ Melissa did look exhausted now, and I gave my friend a gentle push homewards. She’d drunk a lot tonight, even for her.

‘Of course. See you soon.’

I couldn’t work out where the screaming was coming from at first, poised at the top of Nella’s front steps, my finger on the bell – but the air was filled with it.

It took some time to realise the noise emanated from inside the house.

‘He can’t help it,’ a woman’s voice shouted. ‘It’s not his fault.’

Muffled shouting.

‘The fucking Uber account!’ I thought someone else yelled, followed by ‘It’s a bloody joke’, and then at least two doors slamming inside.

The scarf could wait, I decided, making my way back down the steps and opening the gate.

Another door banged, and footsteps came towards me – but I couldn’t tell from where – and then she was almost upon me.

The waitress, pattering down the side path from the old tradesmen’s door.

‘You know, you don’t want to get involved with these stupid people,’ she hissed at me, her Ss long and sibilant in her fury. ‘Stay away from them, if you are at all clever.’