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I nodded, quickly processing all of that. Anna had had a stroke at some point in the past. And someone called Bonnie had been her carer, or perhaps her nurse. “I’ll leave you in peace.” I released Anna’s hand and reached over to grab the call button, which was at the end of a cable attached to the wall. “Here’s your button. You press this if there’s anything you need at all, and I’ll come running like Wonder Woman.”

She let out a peal of her lovely tinkly laugh. “You are a wonder woman indeed.”

With a wave, I left her comfortable in her armchair and went to continue with my workload. But as soon as I left Anna’s bedside, Kerr crept into the back of my mind again like a stealthy, handsome saboteur. No, not handsome. Annoying. That’s what I meant.

As I continued my tasks, my niggle of annoyance became a swell of frustration, then a wave of indignation. All I wanted was to have a little bit of joy in my life, something I had been devoid of since Drew and his bombshell. I deserved the spa weekend prize more than anyone after everything I’d been through. Why did Kerr have to be so difficult? First entering the competition to spite me and then copying all my decorations in order to prevent me from winning. The man sucked happiness from around him like a black hole. A handsome, muscular black hole.

“Shut up, treacherous brain,” I muttered as I entered the room housing the drug cupboard, only to startle when I found Claire in there, giving me a puzzled look.

“Talking to yourself, Nisa?”

“Yes,” I said, getting out my keys to open one of the cupboards and fetch a painkiller for a patient. “I believe I have finally completed my descent into madness.”

Claire chuckled. “I feel you. I think I descended long ago.” She turned to leave. “I think it was my useless ex that finally made me pop.” She closed the door behind her, leaving the last word echoing through my brain.

“Pop,” I murmured to myself, the dark thought from that morning resurfacing, the one at the back of my mind just before I’d been distracted by my search for Izzy. “Pop,” I repeated, as I recalled thinking about the demise of Kerr’s Santa . . .

10

Nisa

MY HEART WAS about pounding out of my ears as I crouched behind my front hedge, furiously eyeing the dark and empty street in order to determine that it was, in fact, one hundred and ten percent absolutely and completely deserted.

Copying someone’s inflatable Santa was legal. Deliberately popping someone’s inflatable Santa, though not a crime in the statute books in any specific context, would no doubt count as vandalism if I got caught.

But if I didn’t, then it could be claimed that freak weather or a passing fox was the cause. Because without proof, Kerr would not be able to pin the act on me.

I pulled my black beanie farther down my head and wrapped my black scarf around the bottom of my face. Then I snuck out from my hiding place and dashed silently across the street, onto Kerr’s driveway, before crouching down in the bushes that lined the front of his garden.

I paused, watching his Santa bob innocently in the wind, as a sickening doubt crept into the back of my mind. Against my better judgment, I shoved it down. This man was going out of his way to cause me misery. He deserved this.

Keeping low, because his living room blinds were open and he might pass by the window at any moment, I crept from the bushes toward the Santa, sharp pin in hand. The night was inky black and I was shrouded in my black outfit, so he would be unlikely to spot me, but I wasn’t taking any chances.

I reached the Santa, and for a second I was distracted by how pretty his display was. The blue, red, and green fairy lights hung twinkling from the top of his living room window. A wreath adorned with red and gold baubles outlined his doorframe, and the reindeer across the garden were lit up with sparkling rose gold lights . . . though the reindeer weren’t arranged as nicely as mine. Put that in your pipe and smoke it, Kerr Murdoch.

I grasped a handful of Santa’s red body, his jolly face beaming into mine. I held my large pin tightly between my fingers, ready to jab. But when I attempted to do so, my arm stayed stuck in position.

I tried willing my hand forward, but every time I did so Santa’s happy face caught my attention, and I stayed stuck in place. Something was holding me back, and I had a sneaking suspicion it might be my pesky conscience.

This was a step too far. Actual sabotage. The destruction of someone else’s property. Even if that someone was an absolute arsehole.

Battling with my conscience, I stilled, mind racing as I tried to decide what to do. I had allowed my anger to drive me too far, and even though I still felt that Kerr must be to blame for Izzy’s injury despite his status as a vet and virtue signaling with those volunteer shifts at the animal shelter, two wrongs didn’t make a right. I should find another way to get even.

A flash of movement in Kerr’s living room had me whipping my head to the side, peering around Santa’s body through the window.

However, it wasn’t Kerr entering the living room but a small, furry feline. One with a limp.

“Izzy!” I cried out before clamping my mouth shut and darting my gaze around to check if anyone had heard me. My heart thumped even harder in my chest, banging out a samba against my ribs. Why was my cat in Kerr’s house? Had he stolen her in an attempt to upset me? What was he going to do to her?

Frozen with panic, my mouth dry, I saw Kerr follow Izzy into the room and reach down toward her. Holy crap, should I throw a stone at his window to stop him? But before my frantic eyes could locate a stone in the dark, Kerr lifted Izzy gently, cradled her to that broad, well-​defined chest, and sat down on the sofa, allowing my cat to rub up against his face as he tickled behind her ears.

I could feel my eyes bulging in disbelief as I stared, unblinking, for a few seconds, my heart feeling as if it were changing shape in my chest. He was holding Izzy’s head between his large, strong-​looking hands and stroking her furry face with his thumbs as he spoke to her with his lips pursed in what was definitely a coochy-​coo cutesy voice. Even though the double glazing prevented me from hearing it, I would know that facial expression anywhere—​it was the look all pet owners gave when they baby-​talked to their furry little friends.

Desperate to get closer and try to hear for sure, I stepped out, but in the dark I didn’t spot the guide rope holding Santa down. My foot caught underneath and I tripped, adrenaline shooting through my entire body as I fell on top of Santa and instinctively put out my hands to break my fall.

I landed on top of his inflatable form, lying still for a couple of seconds, mentally searching my body for injury. Nothing was hurting and I sagged with relief that Santa had broken my fall—​and also that I’d not unintentionally cried out again and risked drawing attention to myself.

But for some reason, I was sinking closer to the ground, a hissing noise apparent from Santa where he lay underneath me.