‘Coo-ee,’ said Mags as she opened Amy’s front door and shook droplets off her umbrella.

‘And who the hell are you?’ said a thirty-something man, standing in Amy’s kitchen.

‘I think I’m the one who should be asking that,’ said Mags, drawing herself up to her full five foot one and pushing her sleeves up her arms.

‘I’m Billy. I’ve moved in with Ames.’

‘So you’re Billy.’ Mags eyed him up and down. ‘Well, I’m Amy’s mum. Glad to meet you – at last.’

Mags turned at the sound of footsteps running down the stairs.

‘Hiya, Mum. This is Billy.’

‘I know,’ said Mags. ‘Or I do now.’ She turned back to Billy. ‘Is that your car outside?’

Billy nodded.

‘Nice. Must have cost a bundle.’

‘Mum!’

‘Just asking,’ said Mags, unfazed.

‘Since you ask, yeah. And?’ countered Billy.

‘Not sure I’d want to leave a smart set of wheels like that parked around here. There’s been a lot of burglaries in the town lately.’

‘It’s all been houses, though,’ said Amy.

‘So far,’ muttered Mags. ‘There was another break-in I heard about last week.’

‘Another?’ said Amy.

‘Yeah, one of those houses over behind the cricket club.’

Amy shook her head. ‘I never thought I’d say it but there’s advantages to living this end of town. Whoever is doing the break-ins knows that us lot, down here at the cheap end, don’t have nothing worth stealing. Ain’t that right, Billy?’

‘I dunno,’ said Billy. He pointed at the TV in the sitting room. ‘That’d be worth a bit if you knew the right person.’

‘Don’t say that, Billy. I’ll be having sleepless nights.’

Billy winked and patted Amy’s bottom. ‘I thought that was the whole reason for me moving in here.’

Mags frowned and shuddered. She decided to ignore Billy. ‘Do you know what I saw yesterday?’ Amy shook her head. ‘Your Mrs L—’

‘Olivia?’

‘Her. Anyway, you know I’ve been thinking about giving up the business.’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, when I sell up I’ll have a bit of spare cash and I’ve been thinking I might buy myself somewhere to live. The housing association says I might be eligible.’

‘Really? Get you!’

‘Anyway, I was up at the show house, and there was Mrs L. And she said she wasn’t thinking of buying but then she got given all the paperwork. So why, when she’s got that huge great barn of a place, would she want another house?’

‘Search me,’ said Amy. ‘I suppose when you’re loaded like them you have to spend it on something. I can’t imagine having that much dosh.’

‘I can,’ said Billy.

Mags looked at him. ‘I can tell – what with that flash car and all.’ She turned back to Amy. ‘And I also came round to ask if you wanted to come round mine for roast lunch tomorrow but I can see you’ve probably got other plans for the weekend.’ She sniffed.

‘Nah, you’re all right,’ said Billy. ‘I’m going to treat Ames and Ash to a meal at the pub.’

‘Fine,’ said Mags. It obviously wasn’t. ‘I’ll see you around, Amy.’

‘Yeah, bye, Mum.’

Mags let herself out again and shut the door with a smidge more force than was entirely necessary.

‘You know,’ said Amy, after she’d gone, ‘it would have been nice if you’d invited Mum to the pub too.’

‘She wouldn’t want to play gooseberry though, would she?’

‘Ash is coming.’

‘Yeah, but he’s a kid. He’ll ignore us and spend all his time on his phone. Your mum would have wanted to talk to us.’

‘So?’

‘So, I can tell she can’t half rabbit and maybe I’d rather talk to you than her. Besides, if I’m paying I think I get to say who gets invited – not you. Savvy?’

*

The next morning Heather was relieved and pleased to see that Brian’s mood from the day before was still upbeat. He hummed ‘Rock of Ages’ as he shaved, which, she thought, was a good sign. She dressed ready for church and then pottered downstairs, collecting the Sunday paper from the letter box as she passed the front door, and went into the kitchen. She plugged in the kettle before she opened the fridge and got out the eggs, tomatoes and bacon. She scanned a couple of the headline stories on the front page. Gloom, doom and misery, she thought, while she grilled the bacon and fried the eggs and tomatoes. At least the worst that this little town had to cope with was a few burglaries and some under-age drinking. OK, maybe there was worse going on than that behind people’s front doors but, on the whole, Little Woodford had to be one of the safer places in the world.

She flicked on the radio and the sound of some theological discussion on the Sunday morning religious programme got half-drowned by the sizzling of the tomatoes in the pan. No, too dreary. It wasn’t in tune with her mood and she wanted something happier than the highs and lows of life for Coptic Christians. She opened her laptop and found a music station on the internet and replaced voices with jolly sixties pop. She jiggled in time to the music as she cooked.

‘The smell of bacon and a happy wife,’ said Brian. He dropped a kiss on the top of her head. ‘God’s in his heaven, all’s right with the world.’

Heather smiled. Her world was all right. She wasn’t sure about Olivia’s, and Jacqui’s could be a bit rocky but, after the trials and tribulations of recent weeks she felt she could indulge in a few minutes of unadulterated selfishness and ignore other people’s problems.

‘Put the toast on and make the tea, there’s a love,’ she said to Brian.

The pair worked as a team for a few minutes until their breakfast was ready and they sat at the table. How different the atmosphere was, thought Heather as she tucked in, from the past couple of weeks. She longed to know what the initial problem had been and what had caused this total turn-around but years of being a vicar’s wife had taught her to be patient and to know that if Brian wanted her to know something, she would eventually find out and that if he didn’t, she never would. It didn’t stop from her being curious but she’d learned to curb it sufficiently that her inquisitiveness didn’t drive her potty.

Brian read the main bit of the paper while Heather flicked through the Sunday supplement, looking at glossy pictures of fashion accessories for people with more money than sense and recipes that seemed to need ridiculous amounts of preparation. What’s wrong with a good old shepherd’s pie, she thought as she looked at a concoction which needed... she totted them up... twenty-four separate ingredients. She flicked the magazine shut and looked at the clock.

‘Nearly time to go,’ she said. She stacked their plates in the sink and then ran upstairs to put a comb through her hair and slap on a bit of lippy. She glanced out of the window. It might be May but she’d need a coat. Besides, the heating in the church had been switched off at the start of April and it was going to be blooming cold in there, as it was most of the year.

‘I’ll head off,’ she heard Brian shout up the stairs.

‘OK, sweetheart,’ she called back down. ‘I’ll be over in a few minutes. Knock ’em dead.’

The front door banged shut and the house was silent apart from the distant noise of the pop music jingling from her laptop in the kitchen.

Heather pattered downstairs again, switched off her computer and then went into the sitting room to find her handbag. She then checked the doors were locked before she followed Brian out of the front door and to the church.

As usual she was caught at the door by parishioners who wanted to chat. Quite a few of the congregation were older members of the parish and their weekly trip to a service was, pretty much, their only social interaction. Heather understood their need to talk, to gossip, to catch up and she was happy to provide a sympathetic and listening ear. It was, she always told herself, what was expected of her in her role as ‘vicar’s wife’.

‘Is the vicar better?’ asked one.

‘Yes, thank you. It was just a dizzy spell.’

‘And what’s that I’ve heard about another huge housing estate?’ said another.

‘I don’t think it’s huge and we need the houses. Our children and grandchildren will all need homes and there’s already a lot of homelessness.’

‘I don’t hold with it. Let them all go and live somewhere else. Little Woodford doesn’t need any more houses. And where will they all park when they come into town, that what I want to know?’

Heather moved away before she got riled. ‘And how are you, Joan?’

‘Can’t complain. Not happy about them there burglaries, though. Where will it all end?’

Heather shook her head and, out of the corner of her eye, saw Olivia come in. ‘Excuse me.’ She dashed off, trying to damp down her feeling of relief that she’d escaped from the old ladies. She drew Olivia to one side.

‘How are you?’

Olivia seemed to sag. ‘Nigel is sunk into gloom, Zac isn’t speaking to me and I’m thinking I ought to apply for a job but who is going to want a fifty-something woman who hasn’t been in employment for the best part of thirty years?’

Heather put her hand on Olivia’s arm. ‘This is so tough for you. It’s a real trial.’

Olivia blinked rapidly. ‘Don’t be kind to me, Heather, or I’ll cry.’ She dabbed at her nose. ‘One moment I was feeling pretty content with my lot, and the next...’ She dabbed her nose again. ‘What’s that Chinese curse? “May you live in interesting times”? Well, they couldn’t get any more interesting round at our place. The only positive thing is that the house is worth a mint so we should be able to clear most of the debts when we’ve sold it. I spent yesterday afternoon doing sums to see where we stand. It’s pretty horrific but it’s not quite as bad as I feared when Nigel first told me the situation.’

‘That’s something.’ Heather glance around the church. ‘I think we ought to find a pew.’

They walked towards the front and slid into an empty one.

After they’d both said their prayers, Olivia sat back up on the hard bench and said, ‘And Brian?’

‘I got home from having coffee with you to find a changed man.’

‘That’s wonderful.’

Heather nodded. ‘Let’s hope it’s not like what you get with hurricane – you know, the eye bit, where the weather clears but then it becomes terrible again.’

‘I’m sure not. I reckon whatever was causing him to be so upset and worried has been resolved.’

The organ struck up the introit and the two women stood. Olivia glanced behind her to watch Brian process down the aisle. He certainly looked OK, quite cheerful, in fact. She was glad that someone seemed to be happy with their lot because she certainly wasn’t. As Brian approached the front of the church Olivia’s gaze slid off him to Bert, standing next to Joan. He was looking at his wife with undisguised concern, a worried frown creasing his leathery skin. Was there anyone, wondered Olivia, who was having an easy time of things at the moment?

*

Amy was changing the sheets on the beds, a job she did every Sunday, when she heard the front door slam.

‘Billy? Ash?’

‘It’s me,’ called Billy’s voice.

Amy gathered up the dirty sheets from where she’d dumped them on the landing and hefted them down the stairs.

‘Hiya. Where’ve you been?’

‘What’s it to you?’

Amy felt slightly snubbed. ‘Well... nothing. I just wondered, that’s all.’

‘Then don’t.’

Amy walked past him into the kitchen and began to stuff the linen into the washing machine. She dosed it with laundry liquid before she slammed the door shut.

Billy was standing over her as she stood up again. ‘I said on Friday, I don’t want people to ask no questions. My mum doesn’t but you do. Now... do you want me to stay here or not? Because if you do, no more questions.’

‘I only asked where you’d been, Billy.’

‘I’ve been out.’

‘But...’ Amy shut up. If Billy wanted to be so mysterious, let him. It was no skin off her nose.

‘Now, then, you ready to come down the pub?’

‘Yeah. Ash is going to meet us on the way; he’s popped down to the skatepark to see his mates.’

‘Get your coat then.’

*

Heather left Brian chatting to his flock at the end of the service and made her way back to the vicarage. She’d done her duty and now she wanted to get lunch on. It was only a chicken but if she didn’t get it in the oven soon they’d be having it for afternoon tea, not lunch.

She walked into the kitchen and put her bag on the side, switched on the radio, filled the kettle and got the meat and some vegetables out of the fridge. It was only when she’d got the roast into the oven, had a cup of tea beside her and she was starting to peel the spuds that she realised her laptop wasn’t on the counter.

Heather put the knife down. Maybe Brian had moved it. But he’d gone over to the church first. She distinctly remembered switching it off before she’d left. She stared at the space where the laptop had been, then she walked into the sitting room. The DVD player was missing, and her mother’s little silver clock that sat on the mantelpiece. Heather sank down onto the sofa.

Bastards.