her body. She pulled it over her shoulders and went back to sleep.

In the morning, Bex woke early. A shaft of light pierced a gap in the curtains, shining onto the Life of Brian DVD case on the floor like a message from God. The house was completely quiet and her neck felt stiff and sore from the sofa cushions. She tiptoed past Jon’s bedroom and opened and closed the front door as quietly as she could.

Outside, the sun was just up and the air was cool. It was pleasantly refreshing and Bex felt all the promise of a new day. There were advantages to waking up with a crick in her neck from Jon’s sofa; she was up early enough to swing home and wash her face and change her clothes before work.

On the way to the Farriers’ she gave herself the well-worn talk; this had to stop. She had to move on. She had to see less of Jon. She had to stop going to watch him play. She definitely had to stop watching films with him and falling asleep on his sofa. In short, she had to stop torturing herself with his friendship.

Bex speeded up her steps to add verve to the pep talk. She sailed through the quiet morning streets of Pendleford, and arrived at the Farriers’ slightly out of breath, but filled with renewed purpose. As always, she was five minutes early for her shift at the house. Bex prided herself on being good at her job and part of her personal criteria for that was being early for work every single morning. She didn’t want her employers to ever worry that she was going to be late; didn’t want to add stress to their busy morning routine.

Bex picked up several pairs of shoes that had spread across the hall floor during the night and put them back neatly on the rack. She called out a cheery ‘hello’, channelling Mary Poppins for all she was worth.

Mrs Farrier was usually in the hall by this time, waiting to rush out of the front door the moment Bex appeared. This morning, Bex found her in the kitchen, holding a mug in one hand and her BlackBerry in the other. Bex’s first thought was that she must be unwell, but Mrs Farrier was in her dark work suit, her glossy hair neatly blow-dried and a briefcase resting on the central island.

‘We need to talk,’ Mrs Farrier said. She sounded serious, but Mrs Farrier always sounded serious.

‘Okay.’ Bex hooked her tapestry rucksack on the rack behind the door, next to the pinboard that held, amongst other things, the Farrier children’s busy schedule. Today was piano lesson for Carly and fencing for Tarquin. Never a fun day as Carly invariably spent her lesson in tears and Tarquin had to be dragged both into – and away from – his.

Mrs Farrier hadn’t started speaking, which was very odd; she was usually in such a hurry, shouting clipped instructions and questions she rarely gave Bex time to answer. Bex turned away from the schedule and loaded a capsule into the Krups coffee machine. Caffeine – that was the ticket. The ominous silence continued. Perhaps Tarquin had complained about her again. He had got into a habit of blaming as many different people as possible for anything he thought he could get away with, but Mrs Farrier, to her credit, generally saw right through him. ‘Would you like an espresso?’ Bex asked, getting cups down from the dishwasher.

The silence continued and Bex looked across to see if Mrs Farrier had heard her question. She was frowning slightly.

‘My husband’s cufflinks are missing.’

The cufflinks. She hadn’t been able to find them and then Tarquin had stood his ground over screen time and she’d completely forgotten that she was supposed to locate them. Arse.

‘Yes, I know,’ Bex said. ‘Sorry. I did look for them, but then Tarquin was messing with the laundry and –’

‘This is very awkward,’ Mrs Farrier said, and Bex realised, with a sudden chill, that she really did look uncomfortable. ‘Alistair, uh, Mr Farrier, is sure that he left them on top of the chest in his dressing room.’

Bex shook her head. ‘I looked, but they weren’t there. I checked on the floor and underneath, in case they’d been brushed off –’

‘He’s sure,’ Mrs Farrier said. ‘Which puts us in a difficult position. You know how happy we’ve been to have you helping us and we appreciate everything you’ve done, but –’ The sentence remained unfinished and Mrs Farrier gazed fixedly at a spot somewhere behind Bex’s head.

The chill that Bex had felt run down her spine became a bath of ice water, dumped unceremoniously over her head. ‘You’re firing me?’

‘We’ll give you a week’s pay, but in the circumstances I’d appreciate it if you didn’t embarrass us by asking for a reference.’

‘But I haven’t done anything wrong.’ Bex was mortified when her voice cracked a little.

‘Theft is a serious business, Bex,’ Mrs Farrier said, finally looking into her face. ‘You should count yourself lucky that we’re not calling the police.’

‘I didn’t take his cufflinks,’ Bex managed through a thick throat. The word ‘theft’ seemed to reverberate through the air, setting off tremors through Bex’s entire being. ‘I would never –’ She didn’t finish the sentence. She couldn’t use that phrase in all conscience.

‘Mr Farrier wanted to call them, actually,’ Mrs Farrier continued, ‘but I said that I was sure his cufflinks would be back in the house by the time he got home from work this evening and there would be no need.’ She gave Bex a significant look.

‘Ex!’ A small shout was a short warning before a shape barrelled into the back of Bex’s legs, wrapping arms around her and almost bringing them both down onto the tile.

‘Hello, sweetheart,’ Bex said, trying not to look as if her world had just caved in.

‘I did a wee in the loo!’

Bex didn’t know if Carly was talking about yesterday’s triumph or a new

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