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Gamble (I always thought that a strange name for a bank manager) and was no doubt persuaded that sound investment also required vast premiums, of which, I suspect, Mr Gamble took a healthy percentage. It was certainly enough to pay for membership of Epsfield Golf Club.
    I shouldn’t criticise his methods as it’s because of his tenacious attention to Colin’s worth after death that I’ve been doing as well as I have for money.
    So, not feeling in the slightest perturbed about what had happened, as this would all be part of the overall plan leading to the receipt of a large amount of money, I booked an appointment with Mr Gamble that afternoon.
    The car was in the drive and I knew I’d have to take it into town for the appointment. It didn’t ever occur to me to get buses or any type of public transport if I could avoid it. I always end up sitting with someone who has body odour, or is so fat they take up more seat than they have paid for. Or with a child eating something sticky.
    I was still cautious about driving on my own, but knew I’d have to drive to the bank so I could put them in their place. I couldn’t wait to see their faces when they realised I would be coming into so much money!
    It occurred to me I might need some proof and I took the opportunity to write another email to Darius, so he could confirm the situation. I’d been itching to get back in contact but knew that to appear too keen wasn’t an attractive trait. I’d learned enough about men to know that they like to do the chasing, although maybe he’d been playing it just a bit too cool by leaving me in the dark for months. However, I’d an urgent need to clear up the bank matter to get them off my back, so the reasons for making contact again were significant enough to override the rules of courtship.
    I’d two hours before leaving for town and wanted to keep myself busy to avoid all thought of road rage, traffic jams and the eternal issue of reverse parking. I couldn’t find the card with his address, so hit ‘reply’ to respond to the original mail.
    Dear Darius,
    I know it has only been a few days since you wrote asking for my help regarding the issue with your funds, and so I’m not expecting to hear from you just yet. However, my bank has informed me that all my money has been taken from my current account. I expect you needed it to pay for lawyers and such to organise the transfer but perhaps you could confirm so I can get the little Hitlers off my case. They are so small-minded they just don’t understand anything outside the boundaries of Surrey life! I’m very excited to hear from you and look forward to your response.
    I placed an ‘x’ at the bottom of the mail and wondered what letter I could put to signify more than a kiss.

CHAPTER SIX
    The drive into town was problematic. Firstly, I’d lost my car keys. I scoured the house and three handbags before finally finding them inside the sugar jar. I couldn’t remember opening the jar, let alone placing the keys in it, but then Bobbie had said she does similar things all the time so I didn’t worry about it. It’s all part of having a busy and full life and I dismissed the thought of dementia quickly. But then it did occur to me that most thoughts get quickly dismissed with dementia …
    Once in the car I discovered the petrol gauge was lower than I’d hoped. I seem to have some kind of pathologic hatred of getting fuel. Colin said I would run the car on fumes rather than go and fill up, but then he was used to it with all the driving he did for work. And being a man helps.
    As if my fears were completely founded, it was only the quick wit of the petrol station manager that stopped me filling up with diesel. He ran over to the car and whipped the pump from my hands, spilling what was in the pipe over my shoes.
    â€˜That could’ve cost you a bomb. Not to mention the inconvenience of