She turned on her heel and gasped. ‘Oh God in heaven,’ she whispered, for in the doorway stood Lavinia Marcus and behind her the man she recognised as Dr Robin.

‘Oh, so it’s you,’ said Lavinia. She inhaled on her cigarette and exhaled into the air for dramatic effect.

Robin leant against the door jamb and folded his arms. ‘Forgotten something, have you?’ he sneered. ‘Joan, isn’t it? Had you down as a skivvy, not a cat burglar.’

‘Seems like she has a new job, darling. And here was me thinking she’d run off with the tart.’

Joan’s blood boiled and, as she recalled later to Deidra with a degree of pride, she lost her senses. ‘Tart? You’re the one who’s the tart, missus. I know what you were up to all the time when Dr Marcus was hard at work, so don’t you be calling Mary Kate a tart – that’s you all right. And you, Dr Robin, you should be ashamed of yourself. Your poor wife, God love her.’

They both stood and stared at her, open-mouthed, Lavinia’s cigarette in mid air. And then, as if on cue, they both burst out laughing at the same time.

‘Get you, spikey miss,’ said Lavinia.

‘I asked you a question, you cheeky skivvy. Have you forgotten something?’ said Dr Robin.

Joan noticed that at the mention of his wife’s name his expression had altered considerably and his self-satisfied sneering smile was now nowhere to be seen.

‘Oh no, she hasn’t forgotten anything in here,’ said Lavinia. ‘She wouldn’t have left something in my bathroom – it wasn’t hers to use, was it, Joan? Not unless it was a tin of Vim and a cloth she was short of.’

Joan couldn’t speak; her voice had deserted her. It appeared that bravery was a very short-lived commodity. Her knees began to tremble.

‘She must have come back for something the Irish tart left. Now, I wonder what that could be?’ Lavinia Marcus placed her fingers at her throat and Joan gulped as she recognised the emerald on the green velvet ribbon. ‘Was it this? This trinket, by any chance? You need to go back to wherever your Mary Kate is and tell her that this is my house and that anything in it is mine too.’ Without warning, her expression shifted from mocking to angry and her normally pale complexion turned puce. ‘Now get out of my house,’ she shouted and, stepping forward, slapped Joan right across her face.

It wasn’t the first time she’d done that to Joan. Over the years, she’d hit her with increasing frequency, every time things didn’t quite go her way, although never in front of Dr Marcus. Joan’s hand rushed to her face and tears welled in her eyes. There was no point trying to reason with a woman like Lavinia Marcus. Summoning up as much pride as she could muster, she shoved past them both, knocking Dr Robin so hard that he wobbled over the edge of the bath, screamed out and grabbed the shower curtain.