The following morning, she headed back to the Co-op and spent almost half the money. With the handles of two bags biting into the palms of her hands, she headed home. Home… it was nice to pretend, to imagine it was hers, that she had the right to live there, to stay, but it was unsettling to never know when Allison was going to return, a smug expression on her pretty face. Jo turned the corner of Union Square, head down, heavy, obsessive thoughts weighing her down more than the bags hanging from her hands. It was only when she lifted her eyes to check for traffic prior to crossing the road that she glanced towards the house. One glance, it brought her to an abrupt halt. Allison was on the doorstep!

Two passing cars prevented her from rushing across to accost the prodigal house owner and in those few valuable seconds, with her eyes fixed on the figure, she realised she was wrong. The woman on the doorstep was too short to be the tall, willowy Allison. And her profile… the nose was too large, chin too receding.

Whoever she was, if she was looking for Allison, her visit was in vain.

Jo waited for the woman to leave. When she turned, she’d get a better look at her face. File it in her head in case she saw her again.

But the woman didn’t leave. Instead, she pushed open the door.

A burglar! Jo had lived in London for long enough to know not to take chances. She’d put on the alarm before she’d left and waited now for it to wail. When it didn’t, she swore loudly, startling a cyclist passing by, who wobbled precariously, shook a fist at her and cycled on.

Jo hadn’t considered what type of alarm system had been installed. Perhaps it was a silent one that alerted a security company, or the police. If so, it wouldn’t be long before the air was filled with their wail as they dashed to the rescue. Jo bent to pick up her bags. If the police were going to descend on the house, it wouldn’t do to stand there looking conspicuous.

She retreated into the safety of the park, took up a position behind a shrub with a good view over the house and waited for the outcome.

Ten minutes. Shuffling from foot to foot, the shopping bags slumped by her feet already attracting attention from an army of ants. She kicked them away and put one bag on top of the other. If she had to wait much longer, the frozen meals she’d bought would be spoilt

No alarm howling. No police racing to the rescue. Jo had been wrong… the alarm hadn’t gone off; whoever had entered the house had a key and knew the alarm code. Not Allison but perhaps someone acting for her.

Portia?

Possibly.