Page 90 of The Good Neighbour

“What is she plotting?”

“As if I’m going to tell you that,” Madeline replied. “This uneasy truce would be fucked forever. No, my job is to keep you occupied until five. She had the idea that you might lock yourself away.”

She was a shrewd one. Only Mrs Wimpole had the power summon an A-list movie star to come home from location to do her bidding.

“And what have you got planned for me?”

“Spa day, of course,” she said. “We’re booked into the Aman in an hour.”

The tears were welling. He didn’t believe that he deserved this kind of love but he was so glad to receive it.

“Thank you.”

She squeezed his leg. “And I can confirm that Winston has checked out of the Nickleby. We can only assume he has skulked off to Nice, the bastard.”

“How on earth do you know that?”

“I never reveal my sources. Mrs Wimpole isn’t the only one who can find things out, you know.”

He hopped off the stool and hugged his friend.

“You’re amazing.”

“I know and so are you. It’s about time you bloody realised it. Eat up. If you have a lining on your stomach, we can have champagne.”

A flash of hope reverberated around his system. With these powerful women behind him, maybe he could fix the car crash called his life.

Although he still worried about what Mrs Wimpole had uncovered.

Time will tell, I suppose.

The time soon came and Josh found himself standing on Mrs Wimpole’s doorstep. He rang the bell and winced as Parkin came yapping to the door.

“Now, now,” Mrs Wimpole said. “Enough of all that. It’s only Joshua.”

She opened the door and beamed at him.

“And right on time. That’s what I like to see.”

As he was ushered in, he kissed Mrs Wimpole on the cheek.

“My goodness, you smell nice,” she exclaimed.

“Madeline took me for a spa day.”

A glint appeared in Mrs Wimpole’s eye but she remained silent. Josh allowed himself to be led down the passage and into Mrs Wimpole’s kitchen. It had every appliance known to man.

Parkin leapt up at him. Josh knelt and gave him a fuss.

“Who’s taking care of this young man tonight?” Josh asked. “The Professor?”

“No,” Mrs Wimpole replied. “He’s at a talk about Dickens’ heroines or something. I tend to zone out when that author is mentioned.”

Knowing the Professor, she must spend a lot of her time in her own head. No wonder she found the time to solve the world’s romantic woes.

“Jeremy has offered.”

Jeremy Brookes was a local author who Mrs Wimpole and the Professor fed information too. It hadn’t occurred to Josh that he might find this adventure in one of Jeremy’s novels. He would make sure they only used it if it worked.