On the way home, Ellen took Maddy on a route where they were less likely to see a newspaper. So far, she had managed to prevent her reading the ongoing reports of the Soho slayings or hearing about them on Grandad Bob’s TV. Surely the media would get fed up with the story soon. Thakfully most of the headlines were about the birth of Louise Brown, the first IVF baby in the UK.

Ellen had learned a lot about Maddy in the short time she had known her. She knew that Maddy was not one to burden others with her worries. Instead, she was kind and thoughtful, and never took it on herself to judge anyone.

Many times of late, she had caught Maddy quietly crying alone; when Ellen came along, Maddy would quickly wipe away the tears and try to smile.

Ellen worried that, sooner rather than later, Maddy was bound to read a big article about the London killings. When that happened, the best Ellen could hope for was that more would be said of Drayton, and less about Alice. If Maddy found out that the latter was still alive, who knew what would happen then? One thing was for sure: their friendship would probably not survive.

On the following Saturday morning, Grandad Bob was coming down the stairs when a clutch of mail fell through the letter-box.

Carrying it to the kitchen table, he saw how Maddy and Ellen were already there, so he momentarily set the letters aside. “Morning, you two. Been up all night, have you?”

Glancing up from her cornflakes, Ellen gave a grunt. “Nope.”

“Still, it’s nice to see you up bright and early. What are your plans for the day then?”

“Not much,” Ellen informed him. “Maybe we’ll catch up with the washing and ironing. Oh, and Grandad, I notice you’ve already filled the linen tub in the bathroom with shirts and such. I’ll have them washed and hung out before you can say Jack Robinson.”

“You will not!” Horrified, he explained, “I’ve always washed my own things, and I see no reason to change now that you’re here. I’ll have you know I’m more than capable of doing my own laundry. Besides, when have I ever suggested that you and Maddy should take on the task of being servants?”

Ellen groaned. “That’s silly, and you know it,” she gently chided. “I just thought that, being as I’m already doing a wash, I might as well throw your stuff in at the same time. It cuts down your electricity bill.”

“Listen to yourselves,” Maddy lightheartedly intervened. “Anyone would think you were having a barney.” She liked the banter, and normally, would have joined in. But her stomach was churning and she felt very queasy.

Nevertheless, she found a smile for the big man. “You have to admit it, Bob. Ellen is right in what she says.”

Grandad Bob looked from one woman to the other, knowing that whichever way he turned, the argument was already lost to him. “Oh, very well then,” he told Ellen. “Whatever you say. It does make sense, I suppose.” He glanced again at Maddy, who was sitting quietly. “Here, are you all right, lass?”

“Yes, thank you,” she answered. “I’m just not quite my usual self today, that’s all.” Feeling sick and exhausted, she gave him another smile. “Ellen and I do want to be useful though. You’ve been so kind, taking us in like you did. The least we can do is throw your washing in the tub when we’re doing ours.”

“I see that now,” he assured them, “and it’s fine by me. But I have to say, lass, you don’t look none too chirpy this morning.” Clambering out of his chair, he went round to Maddy and hugged her. “Why don’t you go back to bed, sweetheart? Have another hour’s sleep. It’ll do you good.”

“That’s what I told her,” Ellen chipped in, buttering a slice of toast.

“Stop fussing, the pair of you. I’m not ill,” Maddy protested. “I’m just a bit washed out, that’s all.” In truth, she felt like something the cat had dragged in. “The midwife described morning sickness as like having a tooth out; you feel really uncomfortable for a while, and then it’s over.”

Bob chuckled. “So, that’s what she said, is it? Okay, I’ll tek your word on it, though I’m just a cowardly man, so I’d rather have a tooth out any day.”

He turned his attention to the mail.

“Nothing but rubbish!” he kept saying as he slung it aside. “Look at that! Why would I want a big expensive kitchen when all I’ve got is a tiny scullery that takes a cooker, two cupboards and a fridge. Oh, and look, I’ve won a new car – I don’t think.”

He continued to tear the paperwork up and throw it aside, until he came across a postcard. “It’s from Peter, landlord of the Cart and Wheel in town, enjoying a break in Spain, lucky devil.”

He gave a grunt. “I’ve just realized, he owes me six pounds from that bet he did for me. The bugger’s spending it in Spain, I expect, sitting at the bar watching the pretty girls go by and supping his pint of golden ale. Whoa! Just wait till he gets back – I’ll have him. Six pounds with interest, that’ll tek the smile off his hairy face!”

The next was a large brown envelope, addressed to Ellen Drew and postmarked London. “I reckon this is yours, lass.” With Maddy running the taps at the sink, ready for the washing up, Ellen was collecting the crockery.

Both women looked up. Maddy remained at the sink, visibly anxious as Ellen tore open the envelope, then giving a sigh of relief when Ellen told her, “It’s all right, Maddy. It’s just that letter we’ve been expecting.” She knew Maddy would realize that she was referring to Raymond.

Bob tactfully excused himself. “I’ll best get out early,” he teased, “in case randy Nora from next door is peering through her net curtains, ready to pounce on me.” He paused, scratching his head as he asked, “Has anyone seen my newspaper?”

Maddy said no, while Ellen told him, “I’ll pop into the paper shop later and get you another one, shall I?”

“Okay, and while you’re at it, ask Mrs. Patel why my paper was not delivered… again! It’s happening too regular for my liking. Make sure you tell her that, will you? I’m sure she’ll sort it out.”

“I’ll do that, and I’ll bring you a paper home, don’t worry.” Ellen was not about to tell him how she had been scanning the papers first and if there was even the slightest mention of the London killings, she quickly got rid of it.

“I like my newspaper. I like to know what’s going on in the world. Even the radio seems to have given up the ghost.” Stony-faced, Bob blew out a long, slow sigh of exasperation. “I must put my mind to taking that thing apart and finding out what’s wrong with it.” He groaned. “Mind you, I suppose it must be going on fifteen years old by now. Happen it’s time I bought myself a new one.”

He was not to know how Ellen had also nobbled his radio.

As yet, Ellen had thought it best to keep secret the real reason why she and Maddy had turned up on his doorstep; though she knew her grandad was nobody’s fool. It was only a matter of time before he started asking questions, and then she would have to tell him at least some of the truth – though she would certainly leave out the part where she and Raymond had deceived Maddy so cruelly.

Now, with Grandad out of the way, Ellen quickly took out the letter; with it came another large envelope, sealed and marked For Maddy.

Ellen handed it to her.

Though curious, Maddy placed it on the table. “Read the letter first,” she asked of Ellen.

Equally eager to know what Raymond might have to say, Ellen flicked through the contents of the letter.

“So, what does he say?” Maddy was by her side as she finished reading.

“There you go, Maddy.” Having satisfied herself that Raymond had not said anything untoward, Ellen handed over the letter. “It might be best if you read it yourself.”

Taking the letter, Maddy walked to the chair and sat down, already concentrating on what Raymond had written: