Apparently it’s time for a Fifty Shades book club

The other guests were more interested in musing upon the ways in which real life was stranger than fiction. Even on Trudy Tyler’s quiet leafy street. Apparently a dominatrix used to live at number 42. By Christine Manby

(Illustration by Tom Ford)

Come to my book club,” said my neighbour Brenda when she stopped to pull an annoying weed from my front step last Wednesday morning.

“I was going to sort the weeds out this afternoon…” I began but she waved my excuses away before setting about dead-heading one of my roses. Brenda has no horticultural boundaries.

“Book club is Sunday night. It’s me and a few other people who live on our road. I’m sure you’ve met some of them. We don’t read anything too serious. Well, unless it’s Elaine at 67’s turn to choose the book. But this time I’m hosting so we’re doing my favourite author.”