I left money to you because I know in the event of Saffron’s death, you will be able to make Miles fall in love with you, and marry you. This way Miles ends up with the wife he deserves to spend his inheritance with. All you need to do is deal with Saffron, and my world is your oyster. I know you love him. Go get him. Please destroy this letter.

With all my love and respect,

Caprice

I cannot believe this. Was she mad? How could she expect this of me? I’m not a cold-blooded murderer. I couldn’t kill anyone, let alone a woman who has always been kind to me. ‘Deal with Saffron’ as a beneficiary of the will and immediately get banged up. The cancer must have affected her brain. Made her irrational. I crumple up the letter and put it in the sink.

And yet … and yet … Mum telephoned me yesterday in tears because she might lose her job. The supermarket she works for are relocating and getting serve-yourself tills. They don’t need as many staff. Four million pounds. Four million pounds. My family could have a new life with this.

I get the matches for Jono’s smokes and set fire to the letter. Yellow and orange flames engulf it and it is destroyed. If Saffron did meet with a random, fatal accident, how would anyone know what I had to do with it? Surely it would be possible to cover my tracks?

180

Saffron

After my brief sojourn at home I’m feeling well. Recovering from the trauma of my time in prison. And the way you tried to stitch me up, you bitch. The first tranche of your money has come in and so we’re opening BPC up again. Miles and I decided we couldn’t face sharing our house with another person yet. So he’s working from home for a while to look after the children.

It’s a cold November morning, and I scrape ice off the car before I can drive to the office. Breath congeals into mist in front of my face as I walk from the car to the office. I step inside. The familiarity of our compact office space wraps itself around me. I flick on the lights and turn the heating on full blast. The cleaners have been in, and it smells of bleach and polish. I’ll soon rectify that. At lunchtime I’ll go and buy some flowers with a heady scent. A pile of post is stacked neatly on the reception desk. I take off my coat and begin to flick through it. Most of it is junk mail. Nevertheless, I feel alive and energised.

Ted arrives, dressed more appropriately than he used to. A suit without a waistcoat. A single-cuffed shirt instead of a double. I hold him against me and hug him. ‘So good to see you.’