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‘All right, lad. You take care and, remember, you don’t have to be a hero.’

Irma reached for the phone and put on her posh voice. ‘Appleby’s residence, Irma Appleby here.’

‘Oh, hello, Mrs Appleby. It’s Jenny Doonan from the hospital.’

‘Oh, my poor Henry,’ she began, making a presumption.

‘No, no. It’s not your husband. I’m actually hoping to speak to Fleur, if she’s around.’

‘She’s not,’ Irma said dully, trying to dampen the sound of her disappointment. ‘I have no idea where she is.’

‘Right, well, I wonder if I could leave a message with you, please?’

‘If you must. Are you a nurse?’

‘A sister, actually.’

‘And what do you want with my stepdaughter?’

‘If you could let her know that Tom Catchlove is with us at present, and he asked us to contact her.’

‘Catchlove,’ Irma repeated, playing ignorant but intrigued as to what Fleur’s new friend was doing in hospital.

‘He’s Fleur’s new beau. Surely you know?’

‘Oh, Tom,’ Irma said, sounding overly friendly now. ‘Sorry, dear. My mind’s a mess at the moment, as poor Henry has been so unwell. Both Fleur and I are rather worried.’

‘Well, I don’t wish to add another problem for Fleur, but she might like to get down here.’

‘And what’s happened?’

‘Mr Catchlove has taken a very bad beating.’

Irma’s eyes narrowed. ‘Oh dear, that’s not good.’

‘No, and he asked me to ring her. Would you please pass on the message?’

‘I’ll do that, thank you,’ Irma said and, without any farewell, put the receiver down. She gave a soft snort; she had no intention whatsoever of helping that impostor reach Fleur.

Frowning, Irma picked up the phone receiver again and dialled a number she had memorised.

‘It’s me,’ she said, bluntly, when her call was answered. ‘Get your son, would you? And be quick about it. I think he’s just ruined our plans.’

Bert Coglin didn’t rush off as she’d hoped. ‘Listen, Irma, she’s already been here, if that’s what you’re planning to give him a dressing down over.’

‘Who’s been where?’ she demanded.

‘Your bloody high-and-mighty stepdaughter, that’s who! Came here smelling something bad and told us our fortunes.’

‘What exactly did she say?’ Irma demanded, feeling the flesh at the back of her neck turn into goosebumps.

‘She was after my son to give him a boll— a few words in anger. She knew it was him who sorted out that country bloke.’

‘How could she know?’ Irma was disgusted.

‘Jimmy’s not very smart, Irma, you know that. He didn’t hide his guilt well, but his damaged knuckles probably told her all she needed to know.’

‘I see.’ So Fleur was already ahead of her. Irma felt enraged; she would have to make her move immediately. ‘I told your son not to do anything dopey, didn’t I? I told him to cool his heels and wait, let me handle it. But he had to show he was a big man, didn’t he, Bert?’