Nina had been right- there wasn’t anywhere to park. Luckily, Harry had thought ahead and hired a more down-at-heel car than usual, so he didn’t stick out like a sore thumb when he parked halfway down Maggie’s road. Nina, of course, had taken her prize pink Bentley Continental and ended up having to wedge it in between a couple of the neighbours’ shabby Ford Fiestas. That was Nina all over. She’d had some idea about intimidating Maggie with her status, but at the end of the day she’d been screaming the house down because one of the local kids had put a scratch in the paintwork. Harry knew better. Harry knew how to play it cool.

Anthony had come down here, and then Nina had come down here, and now, finally, here was Harry. Here to bring things to their natural conclusion.

The house, which looked as if it may have had as many as four or five rooms, was at the bottom of a sharp slope, a little, mossy garden path cutting through the dead grass. “Try wearing high heels on that slope, and you’d probably break your neck,” Nina had said, in one of her heated little huffs, “That tells you all you need to know about the little cow.” Judging by the photographs Harry had managed to dig up, Nina may have been right about that. Well, even a broken clock was right twice a day.

Harry rang the doorbell and waited. She didn’t have to wait long.

There was a shuffling sound on the other side of the door (no window, just wood and chipped paint), and then it opened. Harry had only seen Maggie Glass once before, at the funeral four years ago, but he’d had the photos and he’d known what to expect. Nina had got it into her head that Maggie was making a play for her husband, but one look at her should have told her that wasn’t true. When Harry looked at this woman’s crow’s feet, hooked nose and lank, greasy brown hair, he almost laughed.  How could Nina possibly have thought Anthony could be interested in that? Even if he hadn’t had Nina at home, he probably saw higher-quality women every time they went out clubbing.

“Hello?” said Maggie, her little mouse-eyes squinting ahead at Harry’s face. She wasn’t even wearing any makeup. Her skin was as pale and blotchy as the skin on a bowl of porridge.

Harry smiled politely. “Maggie Glass? I’m Harry Croft, Anthony’s father-in-law. I believe my daughter came to see you a few days ago?”

Given Nina’s account of the meeting (or whatever Harry had been able to glean of it from between the screams of rage), he’d expected anger, snide smugness, or maybe even a door slammed in his face. He certainly hadn’t expected a pleasant little smile. “Oh yeah, Nina! How is she?”

How on Earth did you reply to that? After Harry had regained his mental footing, he decided not to. “Listen, I just came to say that I’m sorry for her behaviour.” He smiled. “It’s a little hard to hold down a marriage in the circles she and Anthony move in, and she can be a bit insecure. But that’s no excuse to take it out on you.”

Maggie raised her eyebrows. “Oh, don’t worry- I’m not angry. Do you want to come in?” She stood to the side so that Harry could come through. After a moment’s thought, he did.

Harry had been right- the downstairs part of the house was basically just one big room. Cheap Ikea sofa in one corner, fridge and cooker behind a counter in the other, uneven paint and scuffed wooden floors throughout. It was the kind of room that made you either want to laugh or cry. Denny had left her everything. Alright, next to Nina and Anthony he’d practically been a beggar, but he’d had some money. At the very least, Maggie could afford to upgrade a little.

“It’s the complacency that bothers me,” Nina had said after her visit, “Cause I’ve always been driven to make the best of things. There’s nothing that disgusts me more than people who do nothing with their lives.” Harry thought that it wasn’t so much Maggie’s “complacency” that had bothered Nina as the fact that she hadn’t risen to her bait. Nina had been ready for a fight, and Maggie Glass hadn’t given her one. That must have driven her crazy.

Harry sat down on the sofa, and Maggie went over to the kitchen unit in the corner. “Tea or coffee?” she asked, getting a couple of mugs out of the cupboard.

“Coffee, please,” said Harry, “Black, no sugar.” While she had her back to him, Harry took a long look at her. She was wearing old jeans with a black jumper that looked as though it might previously have belonged to a 90-year-old shepherd with no teeth. Nina had worn old jeans all the time until Harry had set her straight. With legs like yours, you should show them off. The boys won’t be able to take their eyes off you. That couldn’t be said for Maggie, by the looks of it- her body could politely be described as “athletic.” There just wasn’t much there at all. Of course, there was surgery available for that. There was surgery available for everything, as Nina could have told her.

“Like I said, I don’t blame Nina for being concerned,” said Maggie, “Anthony has been round here a lot. But there’s really nothing for her to worry about- he mostly just comes round to talk about Denny.”

Harry didn’t think that was likely- men didn’t take flights from New York in the middle of the night just to talk about their ne’er-do-well brothers- but he also thought that Nina had been way off the mark. Like I don’t know what’s going on there! she’d said, She’s already managed to snag one of the Manning boys, and now she’s developed expensive tastes. Apparently, she’d looked at Maggie and seen some sort of doe-eyed temptress, instead of a greasy-haired farm hand with a pair of dirty wellies sitting by the front door.

Besides, nobody had ever developed expensive tastes by spending time with Denny Manning. He’d been too pure-minded for that.

“I like talking about Denny,” Maggie said from the kitchen, “Do you know what he did once? He found out there was going to be a demonstration in town, an animal rights thing, so he spent all night making jam sandwiches and handed them out to the protestors the next day. Mad as a cat, he was, but he always had a big heart.”

Harry agreed with the first part of that. They’d all been sorry when Denny had died- it broke your heart to see how had it had hit Anthony- but good God, that man had been a thorn in everyone’s side. He’d always made sly little remarks about money, as if Anthony’s music was somehow tainted by him going with a major label. As if Denny was cooler and more authentic because his name had never appeared in the Sun. It hadn’t occurred to Denny that maybe the tabloids and the major labels had never come calling because his music just wasn’t as good.

Maggie brought the tea and coffee over. “I asked him, ‘Why jam sandwiches?’ and he said he had to rule out tuna and cheese because, you know, animal rights crowd, probably a lot of them are going to be vegan. He thought about lettuce and cucumber, but that tends to fall out of the bread if you hold it the wrong way. And too many people are allergic to peanut butter. It had to be jam.”

Harry smiled and nodded. Maggie’s pointless stories about Denny had driven Nina round the bend. God, I always knew men liked crazy girls, but I always thought they liked them a lot prettier than her. Nina been wrong-footed- by all rights she should have come to this woman’s door and blasted her away with the sheer force of her personality. After all, Nina was a big deal. Her name was its own brand. She’d designed fashion and swimwear, brought out her own perfume, and even thrown around some ideas for children’s products. When she went out at night, she went out with businessmen, footballers, film stars… high-end people. And yet, somehow, none of that translated into getting whatever reaction she wanted out of a little country bumpkin living in a ruined cottage. It was bound to be frustrating.

Two words that weren’t in Nina’s vocabulary- subtlety and patience. Harry gave Maggie an encouraging smile. “Listen, Maggie, I have a confession to make. I didn’t just come here to apologise for Nina- I want to talk about Denny, too. You do realise you’re his sole heir?” That was why Anthony had been round Maggie’s so often. Denny’s assets should rightfully have gone to his family, but getting Maggie on their side would be the next best thing. Getting her to see their point of view.

“Yeah,” said Maggie, mug in her hands and eyes half-closed, “I didn’t even know he’d made a will until I got the phone call. He wasn’t even forty.” She sipped her tea. “Sometimes I think he had a premonition of what was going to happen… but more likely somebody at the record label must have told him to do it. There’s always a romantic explanation and a rational one. Now, my mother would have said…”

“What ideas have you got in mind for promoting his back catalogue?” asked Harry. He pointed at the dirty wellies. “Seems to me like you’re more concerned with working at the stables.”

“It was complete luck, how I fell into that,” said Maggie, barely missing a beat, “I always thought I’d end up working in an office, maybe getting a teaching qualification… I never saw myself working with animals. But there’s something satisfying about clearing out a stable. Solid, tangible stuff. You don’t get that in most jobs.” She took another sip. “The animals, too. It sounds strange, but they’re good company. There’s nothing like trying to work with a sheep in the next field trying to jump over the fence and see what you’re doing.”

Harry couldn’t believe this. He stared at her for a moment, then said sternly, “Maggie, I want you to focus for a second. Now, you said yourself that you just want to talk about Denny. You want his name to live on. Well, I’m offering you a chance to make sure of that.” He cleared his throat. “I want you to come up and stay at our place in the West End for a couple of weeks. We’ll take you out, show you the best places to be seen. You can borrow some of Nina’s old things at first, then we’ll see about getting you kitted out at one of the boutiques in town.” He made sure to say “old things” rather than “pre-surgery things,” in case she took offence. But like he’d told Nina- you could buy yourself a padded bra if that was all you wanted, but to do things properly, you had to book yourself in for the surgery. That was just the way it was done. No use complaining about it.

Maggie sipped her tea. “No thanks,” she said.

Harry blinked. “Excuse me?”

“No thanks,” she repeated, perfectly politely. She didn’t offer any further explanation.

Harry clamped down on the rage that was threatening to flare up. Shouting at her would do no good. “Maggie, I don’t think you understand what you’re being offered here.” He’d thought it would be easy. Just bring her out to the West End and let her get her name in the papers, and she’d get a taste for it. Before you knew it, she’d be another asset, along with the ghost of Denny Manning. But first he had to get her out there, and that was turning out to be like pulling teeth.

Maggie sipped her tea. It was as if he hadn’t said anything at all.

“I can introduce you to people who know what they’re doing. I can get your name into the papers.” He paused, then brought out his secret weapon. “Yours and Denny’s.”

Maggie looked around, stretching up her neck like a swan’s. “I like it here,” she said, in her quiet, croaky voice, “It’s just far enough from town to be completely quiet at night. Well, I say ‘completely’… Sometimes you hear animals rooting around in the garden.” She smiled. She still wasn’t looking at him. “Once I opened my curtains at night and saw a badger, staring right back at me. Completely froze up, like a little kid who’d been caught doing something naughty.”

“Maggie, I’m here as your friend.” He looked at her with big, sad eyes. “I thought you loved Denny.”

Finally, she looked him right in the eye. Inwardly, Harry allowed himself a little smile. He’d touched a nerve.

“He was here two nights before he died,” she said. No expression on her face, but the fingers were tightening around her mug. He had her. “He looked completely healthy. I racked my brains afterwards, trying to remember if he mentioned having a headache, but I don’t think he did.”

Harry nodded in sympathy. “You weren’t with him when he died, were you? I expect things like that hurt the most.” He cleared his throat, and added (before she had a chance to jump in), ” I can’t give Denny back to you. I can’t give back all those mornings when you’d wake up next to him. All I can do now is help you honour his memory. Will you let me do that, Maggie?”

For a few seconds, he just listened to her breathe. Then she spoke again. “I used to dream about a place like this, when I was a kid. Well, I used to dream about peace and quiet, I guess. I mean, there were five of us- three girls and two boys- and every inch of the house would be full of my brothers and sisters and their friends, with their music and computer games turned up full blast. I used to… There was a park just a couple of streets away from our house, and I used to sneak out and go and sit on a bench near the ornamental flowerbeds. There’d be no-one there except maybe a couple of old ladies passing through, and I’d just sit there for an hour, thinking.”

Harry’s temper finally got the better of him. “I know what you’re doing, you know.”

It was as if she hadn’t even heard him. “There was this one really frosty afternoon…”

“Stop it, alright?” Harry stood up, knocking his cup of coffee to the floor. He didn’t care. Let her clean it up. “I get it. You don’t trust me. Anyone who dares to be successful is pure evil, right? Better to just hide in the shadows and record albums that only five people will hear.”

She hadn’t moved. He’d smashed one of her mugs against her precious driftwood floor, and she acted like it was nothing. “That’s not why I don’t trust you.”

“So you can follow a conversation!”

Maggie frowned. “Anthony came here to talk about Denny, Mr Croft. No more, no less. And I think you should leave.”

“Of course!” Harry stormed off towards the door. “Why show you success when you’re perfectly satisfied with mediocrity? How rude of me!” He wrenched it open and went out onto the path. Nina had been right. It told you all you needed to know.

Her ugly face appeared at the door. “Tell Nina she can come back whenever she wants. I know she doesn’t want to talk about Denny, but I get the idea she might need a break.” And then, before he had a chance to ask her what that was supposed to mean, she closed the door. Closed it right in his face. Him.

Harry saw red.

He stood on the garden path and raged at her, banging on the door with both fists and cursing a blue streak. He could see the locals coming out of their houses to stare, but he didn’t care. They didn’t intimidate him, and neither did Maggie. Whatever hold Maggie Glass had over people, she’d met her match in Harry. Just as soon as she opened that door, he’d send her off with her tail between her legs.