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helps there are only five houses, but one doesn’t ever feel like one is living in the middle of some ghastly soap opera.’
    â€˜There is a nice feeling about this place,’ remarked Caro.
    â€˜A dear friend of mine lives in a mews just off Marylebone High Street,’ said Stephen. ‘She always says after coming home from a stressful day at the mercy of the London transport system, as soon as she walks through the door, it all melts away. Describes it as being “enveloped by a warm hug”. An overly sentimental thought, maybe, but I do understand what she means.’
    Caro mused. ‘In a funny way, it reminds me of Churchminster.’
    Stephen’s eyes twinkled. ‘I thought you might say that.’
    Caro turned to Velda. ‘How many are there of you next door?’
    â€˜Just myself and my niece, Saffron. She’s twenty-four and isn’t at home that much, to be honest. Saffron enjoys a rather full social life.’ Velda smiled. ‘Actually, we have a connection. Saffron is features writer at
Soirée
, where I believe a friend of yours has just started work.’
    â€˜Of course! Harriet!’ Caro exclaimed. ‘It really is a small world. We were all so chuffed for her when she got the job.
Soirée
did a fabulous piece on our village two years ago, when we put on a charity ball and auction.’
    â€˜I remember that, it made all the papers,’ said Velda. ‘Saffron enjoys working there, anyway. Gets to interview all sorts of celebrities, and writes about frightfully interesting people.’ She looked wry. ‘Unfortunately she does have rather a problem with getting up in the mornings, I think she’s had her knuckles rapped for it recently.’
    â€˜She sounds a lot like my youngest sister, Calypso,’ smiled Caro. ‘Who lives in No. 1?’
    On her way to Stephen’s, she had noticed the first house in the mews actually looked rather plain and unloved compared to the rest. No flower boxes adorned the windows, while the downstairs ones had large conspicuous locks and heavy-looking shutters drawn across them.
    â€˜Aah, that’s the mysterious Rowena,’ said Stephen. ‘Montague Mews’s famous enigma.’ Velda smiled and nodded her head in agreement.
    â€˜She isn’t very sociable?’ asked Caro.
    â€˜More than that,’ said Velda. ‘I’ve lived in here for eight years, and in all that time I don’t think she’s left the house once. I’ve no idea what she looks like.’
    â€˜Really?’ asked Caro. ‘How extraordinary!’
    â€˜Indeed,’ agreed Stephen. ‘We think she works from home, some computer whiz or other. A delivery driver with what Klaus said were several very high-tech laptops knocked on our door by accident once. When Klaus and I moved here, oh, it must be getting on for fifteen years ago now, we went round to introduce ourselves but no one answered. We thought the house was empty until we saw the lights on at night, and occasionally the shadow of someone moving around.’
    â€˜Gosh, it sounds like something out of an Agatha Christie novel.’
    â€˜We know that she’s vegetarian, drinks bottles of Evian and has a weakness for McVities chocolate digestives. The Ocado van comes here once every ten days, and I often see the driver unloading the delivery,’ said Stephen. ‘He leaves a large box on the doorstep, and at some point Rowena must come out to get it. I’ve never seen her.’ He chuckled. ‘One rather expects a jeep full of khaki-clad tourists to turn up hoping to catch a rare sighting.’
    â€˜I did see an arm once when I was coming out of my house,’ said Velda. ‘Rowena obviously thought the coast was clear. I tried to say hello but the door was slammed quicker than you could say: “Ahoy there.”’
    â€˜In most ways she’s the perfect neighbour, really,’ Stephen