I roll my eyes.

‘Did you just roll your eyes?’

‘No?’

I hear her smile. ‘You’re so sure about the world, Leena. But I’m not like that. You know the best way for you to heal, and you’ve been doing it: working hard, taking time away from me and your grandmother. I haven’t worked out how to heal. So I’m trying everything. That’s my way.’

I twist the moonstone between my fingers again.

‘I’m not sure I do know the best way to heal,’ I say quietly. ‘I’m not sure I’m doing very well at it, actually.’

‘Is that why you’re here?’ Mum asks. ‘In Hamleigh?’

‘Maybe.’ I swallow. ‘So I’ll see you at bingo?’

‘See you at bingo.’

I shake out my arms after the phone call – they’re tense, as though I’ve been gripping the steering wheel after a long, difficult drive. I’m too hot. I take myself out for a run, just a short one; by the time I get back and make a coffee, I’m breathing normally, feeling more in control, but even so I pace around the dining room with my mug cupped between my hands, unable to sit for more than a moment or two. I need a distraction.

There is an insistent knocking on the kitchen window.

I groan into my coffee. Not that distraction, please. It’s only seven thirty in the morning – what could Arnold want now? Maybe I’ll just pretend to be asleep.

‘Hello?’ Arnold yells. ‘I can see your lights are on! Hello?’

Maybe I sleep with the lights on. This is a big, old house, I might find it very spooky.

‘Hello? The kettle’s still steaming, you must be up. Hello?’

Well, maybe I made myself a cup of tea and went back to …

‘Leena? Hello? I saw you come back from your run! Hello?’

Christ, why isn’t this man in the Neighbourhood Watch? He’s made for it. I grit my teeth and head for the kitchen. ‘Hello, Arnold,’ I say, as pleasantly as I can manage. ‘What seems to be the problem?’

‘Your car,’ Arnold says. ‘It’s in the hedge.’

I blink. ‘My … Sorry, what?’

‘Your car,’ Arnold says patiently. ‘The hedge. It’s in it. Do you want a hand getting it out?’

‘Oh, God,’ I say, leaning forward to look past Arnold and craning to see the driveway. ‘How did it get into the hedge? Which hedge?’

‘Did you put the handbrake on?’ Arnold asks.

‘Of course!’ I say, trying to remember whether I put the handbrake on. Until this week it’s been a while since I’ve driven – obviously I don’t have a car in London, because you only have a car in London if you are looking for an opportunity to induce road rage or practise some really high-stress parallel parking. ‘Oh, God, have I wrecked Penelope’s car?’

Arnold rubs his chin, looking off towards the driveway. ‘Let’s dig it out of the leylandii and find out, shall we?’

*

I did not, it transpires, put the handbrake on firmly enough.

Arnold, who is a lot stronger than he looks, has helped me to push the Ford Ka far enough out of the hedge that I can get in the driving seat. I inch the car backwards, wheels squealing, and receive a double thumbs up from Arnold when I make it over the verge and on to the gravel. I hope Grandma doesn’t mind that her right-hand hedge now has a large car-shaped dent in it, and two long, dark lines running through the grass where the wheels had been.

‘She’s a good girl, that car,’ Arnold says, as I climb out and slam the door behind me. ‘What’s her name?’

‘Her name?’

‘You’ve not named her?’ Arnold asks, wiping his hands on his trousers. He looks energised. With a loose T-shirt and wool cardigan instead of his usual moth-eaten sweater, and a cap covering his comb-over, he’s taken a decade off himself. I watch him as he rubs at the car window with a tissue from his pocket.

‘I haven’t,’ I say. ‘Any ideas?’

‘Mine’s called Wilkie,’ he says.

‘What, like Wilkie Collins?’

Arnold straightens, looking delighted. ‘You like him?’

‘Grandma got me The Moonstone one Christmas. I loved it. She was always giving me books.’

Arnold looks interested. ‘I never knew she was a reader.’

‘Oh, sure. Agatha Christie’s her favourite. She loves detective stories.’

‘Most nosy people do,’ Arnold says dryly. ‘It’s good validation.’

I laugh, surprised. That was actually quite funny. Who knew Arnold could be funny?

‘Let’s call the car Agatha, then, in Grandma’s honour,’ I say, giving it a pat on the bonnet. Then, on a whim: ‘I don’t suppose you fancy coming in for a morning coffee?’

Arnold’s glances towards Grandma’s house. ‘In?’

‘Yeah, for a coffee? Or a tea, if you prefer?’

‘Eileen’s never invited me in,’ Arnold says.

I wrinkle up my nose. ‘Never?’ That’s not like my grandma at all. She’s always inviting everybody in, and if they come under the category of ‘neighbour’ they pretty much get their own key.

‘Your grandma and I don’t really see eye to eye,’ Arnold says. ‘We got off on the wrong foot a long time ago and she’s loathed me ever since.’ He shrugs. ‘No skin off my nose. The way I see it, if you don’t like me, you can sling your hook.’

‘That’s often a very admirable sentiment,’ I say, ‘but sometimes also an excuse for being grumpy and unreasonable.’

‘Ey?’ Arnold says.

‘I’ve seen you, in the mornings, out looking after Grandma’s plants.’

Arnold looks embarrassed. ‘Oh, well, that’s just …’

‘And here you are, helping me fish my car out of a hedge.’

‘Well, I just thought …’ He scowls. ‘What’s your point?’

‘Just not sure I believe the grumpy act, that’s all.’ I lock the car and head over to the bench under Grandma’s apple tree; after a moment, Arnold follows. ‘Besides, it’s never too late to change – just look at my grandma. Grandpa’s gone, and what’s she done? Set off on an adventure in London and started online dating.’

Arnold’s eyebrows shoot up above his glasses. ‘Online dating Your grandma?’

‘Yup. I think it’s great. She so deserves a story of her own, you know, and a break from looking after us all.’

Arnold looks a little disturbed at the thought. ‘Online dating,’ he says eventually. ‘Fancy that. She’s a force to be reckoned with, that woman.’ He shoots me a look. ‘Seems it runs in the family.’

I snort. ‘I don’t know where you’ve got that impression. Ever since I got here all I’ve done is screw up. Actually, scratch that: all I’ve done for the last year is screw up.’

Arnold narrows his eyes at me. ‘From what I hear, while you’ve been coping with your sister’s death, you’ve held down an all-hours city job, supported your partner, put Betsy in her place, and got Penelope to stop driving.’