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off by heart now, but reading the old lady’s handwriting still made my heart flutter.
    Mr Whelan’s words of wisdom had made me hang onto it.
    ‘I advise against any hasty decisions, Miss Stone,’ he had cautioned, as I shook my head, handed him back the letter and prepared to do a runner. ‘There’s no rush. I’ve been instructed to give you a set of keys to the property. Go and investigate for yourself and come back to me when you’ve made your mind up.’
    He had made it sound so simple. Jess and Emma disagreed on what I should do, so it was no use discussing it with them, and my mother, well… I flinched. Mum didn’t know anything about it yet. I had been making excuses for not calling her, but at some point I was going to have to come clean.
    My mobile phone beeped. Typical. I pushed myself up through the bubbles and ferreted through my clothes to find it. Blinkin’ Nora! It was a text from Marc! He was on his way over. Right now.
    What did he want?
    Duh, me obviously! Oh God, oh God, oh God! He wants me back!
    OK, this is your chance. Be calm. Make yourself look irresistible. Don’t blow it and under no circumstances start hurling abuse or accusations at him.
    I scrambled out of the bath, creating a tidal wave which extinguished the candles. There was a puddle on the lino and rivulets cascading off the basin. No time to mop them up now. Putting the light back on, I grabbed a towel and dashed out of the bathroom.
    ‘Marc’s on his way,’ I yelled, careering into the living room. ‘What shall I wear?’
    Jess jumped out of her seat, sending her books flying, and clapped her hands over her mouth.
    ‘Too late for that,’ said Emma, peering out of the window. ‘He’s here!’
    Jess and I squealed and followed Emma’s finger to where Marc was unfolding himself from the passenger side of a red sports car, parked outside the flat. I was no Jeremy Clarkson, but even I recognised an MX5 when I saw one. We didn’t know anyone who owned one of those. Marc certainly didn’t. I also knew enough to recognise that the flash of a red sleeve in the driver’s seat belonged to a woman.
    ‘There’s someone else!’ I squeaked.
    A second tidal wave hit me, this time of disappointment. I felt tears pushing at the back of my eyes and had a sudden urge to sit down. I wrapped the towel around me more tightly. There could be an explanation. The woman could be just a friend. Perhaps he was feeling too emotional to drive and needed a lift?
    Even to my easily-deluded ears, it sounded unlikely.
    ‘You are well out of it, Sophie,’ said Emma sternly. ‘Just wait there.’
    She darted from the room. I could hear her banging about with glasses in the kitchen.
    ‘But I’m not even dressed!’ I wailed.
    ‘I don’t think he’ll have any complaints,’ said Jess with a wink.
    I glanced at my reflection in the mirror over the fireplace. My eyes looked huge, my cheeks were pink from the steam of the bath and some of my curls had escaped from their bath-time bun to cling seductively to my neck. Even in my distressed state, I could see it wasn’t a bad look.
    ‘What do you think he wants?’ I hissed.
    She shrugged and lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘Do you really want him back, babes?’
    I sighed; Emma would kill me for saying it, but I missed his manly, comforting presence so much. OK, so Marc wasn’t perfect, but then neither was I. Look how unsupportive I had been when he had told me about his latest money-making scheme. I could have kicked myself about that now.
    If we got back together, maybe he could help me decide what to do about Great Aunt Jane’s will?
    ‘I do. But Emma will go mad.’
    ‘Ignore her. She hasn’t got a romantic bone in her body. Not like us.’
    Emma returned with a bottle of pink Cava and three glasses just as the door buzzer sounded.
    ‘Shall I let him in then?’ asked Jess.
    I nodded and accepted a drink from Emma. I chugged half of it straight down and perched on the arm of the