Now I hobble over to the sink, carefully empty half the coffee grounds out of the cafetiere into the bin, sprinkle on some new ones, and switch on the kettle. The rule in this house is that you reuse coffee grounds, and, like Jess says, it does make total sense. The coffee only tastes a little bit tinny — and you save loads!

I have so changed. Finally, I am a frugal and sensible person. Luke will not believe it when he sees me again.

Jess is chopping an onion, and I helpfully pick up the mesh bag it came in, to throw away.

Jess looks up. “Don’t! We can use that!”

“An onion bag?” Wow. I’m learning new things all the time! “So… how can you use an onion bag?”

“You can turn it into a scourer.”

“Right.” I nod intelligently, even though I’m not entirely sure what a scourer is.

“You know.” Jess gives me a look. “Scouring. Like exfoliating, but for kitchens.”

“Oh yes!” I say, and beam at her. “Cool!”

I get out my Thrifty Household Tips notebook and write it down. There’s just so much to take in. Like, did you know you can make a garden sprinkler out of an old milk carton?

Not that I need a garden sprinkler… but still!

I make my way into the sitting room, one hand resting on my crutch, the other holding the cafetiere.

“Hi.” Suze looks up from where she’s sitting on the floor. “What do you think?” She lifts up the banner she’s been painting. It reads LEAVE OUR LANDSCAPE ALONE in vibrant red and blue with an amazing leafy, grassy border.

“Wow!” I gaze at it in admiration. “Suze, that’s fantastic! You’re such an amazing artist.” I look at the pile of banners, which Suze has been steadily painting over the last few days, draped on the sofa. “God, the campaign’s lucky to have you.”

It’s been so fantastic having Suze here, just like old times. She and Tarquin have been staying in Edie’s guesthouse for the last few days and Tarquin has pretty much taken charge of the babies, except when Suze needs to feed them in the mornings and evenings.

And it’s been so great. We’ve spent loads of time together, chilling, and eating, and talking about everything under the sun. Sometimes just me and Suze — and sometimes with Jess too. Like last night, the three of us made margaritas and watched Footloose… which I think Jess enjoyed. Even though she didn’t know every song by heart, like we did.

Then one night, when Suze went to visit some relation of hers who lives twenty miles away, Jess and I spent the evening together. She showed me all her rocks and told me all about them — and in return, I told her about my shoes and drew pictures. I think we both learned a lot.

“The campaign’s lucky to have you,” retorts Suze, lifting her eyebrows. “Let’s face it, Bex. If it weren’t for you, this protest would be three people and a dog.”

“Well, you know.” I shrug, trying to look modest. But I am secretly pretty pleased with the way things are going. I’ve been in charge of the protest publicity ever since I got out of the hospital, and we have gotten so much coverage! The rally is this afternoon, and at least four local radio stations ran news stories this morning. It’s been in all the local papers, and a TV crew is even talking about coming out!

It’s all due to a brilliant combination of factors. It turns out the head of news at Radio Cumbria is Guy Wroxley, who I used to know in London when I was a financial journalist. He gave me the phone numbers of everyone locally who might be interested, and ran a huge feature piece yesterday afternoon on Cumbria Watch. But the best thing is our fabulous human interest story! The first thing I did when I took control was call a meeting of the environmental group. Everyone had to tell me every little thing they knew about the site, even if it didn’t seem important. And it turns out that twenty years ago, Jim proposed to Elizabeth in the very field which is going to be wrecked by the shopping center!

So we set up a photo shoot in the field, with Jim kneeling down just like he did then (except, apparently, he didn’t kneel — but I told him not to mention that), looking all mournful. The Scully and Coggenthwaite Herald printed it on their front page yesterday morning under the headline MASSACRE OF OUR LOVING MEMORIES, and the protest hotline (Robin’s mobile) has been ringing with support ever since!

“How long have we got?” asks Suze, sitting back on her heels.

“Three hours. Here you are.” I hand her a cup of coffee.

“Oh, right.” Suze gives a slight grimace. “Is this your thrifty coffee?”

“Yes!” I eye her defensively. “What’s wrong? It’s delicious!”

There’s a ring at the doorbell and I hear Jess striding down the passage to answer it.

“Maybe that’s another bunch of flowers,” says Suze with a giggle. “From your admirer.”

I have been bombarded with bouquets ever since the accident. About half of them are from Nathan Temple, saying things like In hugest gratitude and In appreciation of your supportive gesture.

Well. So he should be grateful. There was Luke, all set to fly home, and it was me who said he should stay in Cyprus and finish the job and I’d be fine staying with Jess for a few days. So he did, and he’s on his way home today. The plane should be landing any minute.

I just know things are going to work out well between me and Luke. We’ve had the ups and downs… we’ve had the tempests… but from now on it’s going to be smooth, easy waters. For a start, I’m a different person now. I’ve become a grown-up, prudent woman. And I’m going to have a grown-up relationship with Luke. I’m going to discuss everything with him. I’m going to tell him everything. No more stupid situations where we end up at loggerheads. We’re a team!

“You know, I honestly think Luke won’t know me,” I say, taking a pensive sip of coffee.

“Oh, I think he will,” says Suze, studying me. “You don’t look that bad. I mean, the stitches are pretty awful, but that huge bruise is looking a bit better… ”

“I don’t mean in appearance!” I say. “I mean in personality. I’ve totally changed.”

“Have you?” says Suze, looking puzzled.

She’s my best friend. Hasn’t she noticed anything?

“Yes! Look at me! Making thrifty coffee and organizing a protest march and eating soup and… everything!”

I haven’t even told Luke about organizing the protest. He’ll be so gobsmacked when he sees his wife has become an activist. He’ll be so impressed!

“Becky?” Jess’s voice interrupts us and we both look up to see her standing at the door, an odd expression on her face. “I’ve got something for you. Some walkers have just come back from Scully Pike, and… they found this.” From behind her back she produces a handpainted calfskin bag adorned with diamanté.

My Angel bag.

I thought I’d never ever see it again.

“Oh my God,” I hear Suze breathe.

I’m speechless. It’s a bit battered and there’s a tiny scratch near the handle — but apart from that it looks just the way it did. The angel is the same. The sparkling Dante is the same.

“It seems fine,” Jess is saying, turning it over in her hands. “It must have gotten a bit wet and thrown about, but apart from that, no harm done. Here you are.” She holds it out.

But I don’t move. I can’t take it from her.

“Becky?” Jess looks perplexed. “Here!” She thrusts it toward me and I flinch.

“I don’t want it.” I look away. “This bag nearly ruined my marriage. From the moment I bought it, everything started going wrong. I think it’s cursed.”

“Cursed?” says Jess, exchanging looks with Suze.

“Bex, it’s not cursed,” Suze says patiently. “It’s a totally fab bag! Everyone wants an Angel bag!”

“Not me. Not anymore. It’s only brought me trouble.” I look from face to face, feeling suddenly rather sage. “You know, the last few days have really taught me a lot. I’ve got a lot of things in perspective. And if it’s a choice between my marriage or a totally fab bag”—I spread my arms—“I’ll take the marriage.”

“Wow,” says Suze. “You have changed. Sorry,” she adds sheepishly, as she sees my face.

Honestly, what is she like? I would always have taken the marriage.

I’m… pretty sure I would have.

“So what will you do with it?” asks Jess. “Sell it?”

“You could donate it to a museum!” Suze says excitedly. “It could be ‘From the collection of Rebecca Brandon.’ ”

“I’ve got a better idea,” I say. “It can be star prize of the raffle this afternoon.” I grin at them. “And we’ll rig it so Kelly wins.”



By one o’clock the house is full of people. Everyone has gathered here for a final pep talk, and the atmosphere is just amazing. Jess and I are handing out bowls of vegetable soup, and Suze is showing all her painted banners to Robin, and everywhere there’s a buzz of conversation and laughter.

God, why have I never been on a protest before? It’s just the best thing ever!

“Isn’t it exciting!” says Kelly, coming up with a bowl of soup in her hand. She’s wearing camouflage combat pants and a T-shirt with hands off our land written on it in marker pen.

“It’s great!” I beam at her. “So… have you bought a raffle ticket for later?”

“Yes, of course! I’ve bought ten!”

“Have this one too,” I say casually, handing her number 501. “I’ve got a good feeling about it.”

“Oh, right!” She tucks the ticket into her pants pocket. “Thanks, Becky!”

I smile and sip my soup. “How’s the shop looking?”

“It’s fantastic!” Her eyes shine. “We’ve got helium balloons everywhere, and ribbons, and sparkling wine, and loads of free gifts all ready… ”

“It’s going to be a wonderful party. Don’t you think, Jess?” I add, as she walks by with a saucepan of soup. “The party in Jim’s shop.”