‘But well done you!’ they cried, as if I was the conquering hero returning, as I finally slid off the wretched, sweaty horse and handed him thankfully to Dad.

‘You did brilliantly!’ Jennie told me, her eyes shining, one arm circling my shoulders as she gave me a hearty squeeze. ‘Did you have a good day?’

‘I’m so proud of you, love,’ said Dad, beaming and slapping my back. ‘I knew you could do it!’

‘We saw you jump, Mummy!’ Clemmie leaped into my arms. ‘You jumped a hedge and nearly came off and your face was so funny – like this.’ She made a terrified face, and I managed to raise a smile. ‘And then you jumped a ditch and said the f word, and there was a shouty man who said, “Bloody woman!” cos you went in front of him!’

‘Lots of shouty men, darling,’ I breathed. ‘Shouty ladies too.’

I embraced my son, who’d toddled up for a hug, his head buried in my thighs as he gripped my knees fiercely. Visiting rights, obviously; perhaps more lenient ones for women with children. Dad would bring them. Or Jennie. In new clothes I wouldn’t recognize.

The children both scampered away to join a few village kids they knew, who were also waiting for parents, kicking a ball around. Dan had joined in, big kid that he was himself. Just Dad and Jennie, then.

‘Killed a hound,’ I gasped.

They both turned. Dad had been throwing a thin blue rug on a steaming Thumper.

‘I did,’ I managed. ‘I killed it. Dead.’

‘How?’ Dad had gone pale.

‘Thumper kicked it. Left it in the bushes. No one saw. Didn’t own up. Need to move. France, probably.’

I’d already thought it through as I rode back. Down near Toulouse, a little place called Gaillac. I’d been there once on a school trip, years ago. Pretty. And I’d open a little shop, like that woman in Chocolat who had a secret. No one would know me. I’d be a mystery, an enigma, me and my two small children. Yes, a chocolate shop.

‘Oh, God.’ Even Jennie, totally un-horsy, knew this was bad.

‘The house will sell quite quickly,’ I gabbled on, ‘always getting things through the door from estate agents. And the children will be bilingual, huge advantage.’

‘Do shut up,’ she told me, taking my arm and sitting me down on the lorry ramp. Dad, who’d rugged up Thumper and tied him to the side of the lorry, came to join us. He sat down.

‘Sure no one saw?’ he murmured.

‘No.’

‘Right. Then stay shtum. These things happen.’

I thought this over a moment. Suddenly I was on my feet, furious. I pointed my finger at him; it waggled a bit. ‘You see? That’s where I’ve got it from! My criminal tendencies! It’s learned behaviour! That’s what you’ve taught me, what you’d do!’ I glared at him accusingly.

‘Well, no, actually. I’d have owned up at the time.’

‘Would you?’ I crumpled instantly, aghast. ‘Oh, Dad, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean that. Oh, Dad, I wish I had!’ I wailed. ‘But in the heat of the moment – so many scary people, so fierce-looking … And it’s a bit late now, isn’t it?’

‘Exactly, after the event. Just let sleeping dogs … well.’ He stopped awkwardly realizing where that was going. ‘It’s a serious occurrence, though, in the hunting world, Poppy.’

‘I know!’ I quaked.

‘Oh, piffle,’ said Jennie staunchly. ‘They’ve got hundreds of the bloody things. And let’s not get too carried away here; you didn’t kill him, Thumper did. At least he didn’t kick a child.’

‘Would have been better,’ I said gloomily.

Dad nodded in sober agreement. ‘She’s right, Jennie.’

‘Which just shows how bloody stupid the whole thing is! I mean, they’re out to kill an animal anyway, aren’t they? And it’s only a bloody dog. Christ, I wish it had been Leila. She escaped, incidentally, joined the pack, briefly.’

‘Really?’ I raised my head. Even in my despair this was diverting.

‘Oh, yes. Was galloping joyously in the middle of all those dogs in her zany collar, looking very Vivienne Westwood, until your dad managed to persuade a guy on a quad bike to nab her. And you think you’ve blotted your copy book.’

I knew she was trying to make me feel better but as I drove her car home later, Jennie having gone with Dan, who’d come in his Land Rover, my father returning with Thumper, I felt the world was on my shoulders.

‘Chatham House rules, OK, love?’ Dad had said, before he left.

‘What are they?’

‘Mum’s the word.’

‘Oh. OK.’

Mum’s the word, I thought gloomily. Until somehow it leaked out. Which it would. And then heaven knows what the word would be. Murderess? Coward? Witch? I cringed behind the wheel. Clemmie was making Archie laugh in the back, imitating me. ‘Mummy riding,’ she was saying, holding imaginary reins right up under her chin, eyes and mouth wide with terror, bouncing in her car seat. And Archie was laughing as only a two-year-old can: as if he was going to be sick. I tried to count my blessings, which seemed to me to be just two. Those two in the back. No chance now with Sam of course; I’d blown that entirely. In fact I couldn’t quite imagine what planet I’d been on to allow it to cross my mind. He was so far out of my league, with his smart friends and his manor house, he was practically in a different stratosphere. And did I want all that, anyway? Imagine having to hunt every week. Having a near-death experience on a regular basis with all those terrifying people. No. I purred down my lane. That whole way of life was not for me: it was too fast, too glamorous, too much.

As I drew up outside my cottage I saw someone ringing my doorbell: a man. Oh God, had they come for me already? I got out warily. But as he turned around I saw it was only Luke, who smiled when he saw me. I relaxed. This man, however, with a face that lit up at the sight of me, was much more my speed. Why hadn’t I spotted it before? Because he seemed reasonably keen? Because he liked me? What in hell’s name was wrong with that, Poppy?

‘Luke.’ I smiled too as I shut the car door, genuinely pleased to see him. Jeans and a navy blue jersey. Freshly washed hair. Normal. Uncomplicated. No spurs.

I lifted Archie out of his car seat and my children ran around the back of the house to get the back-door key from under the geranium pot. Clemmie could just about reach the lock to let them in.

‘Christ, have you had an accident?’

My heart lurched at the thought of Peddler.

‘N-no, why?’ Had he heard?

‘You’re literally covered in mud!’

‘Oh.’ I glanced down, relieved. ‘Oh no, just the detritus of the hunting field. Come in, Luke.’

‘Oh, you do that, do you?’ he said, looking surprised, and just a little defensive. Like people do sometimes, if you mention hunting; for reasons that go beyond the prey and are more to do with class and exclusivity. I thought of Polly and Sparks and Grant but couldn’t be bothered to argue.

‘Not any more,’ I told him. ‘How come you’re not at work?’

‘Got a day’s holiday,’ he said, lightly touching my shoulder, kissing me hello. Mr Fish, deadheading roses in his front garden, nodded across at us.

‘Has he tossed you off, then, love?’

It took me a moment to realize he was talking about Thumper.

‘Oh, no, Mr Fish, I just got a bit muddy,’ I called. Then to Luke, in an undertone: ‘Can’t move in this place. And frankly, I’ve had a bit of a day of it. Could do with a very large drink. Will you join me?’

‘I’d love to, but I’ve got to teach in five minutes.’ He glanced at his watch.

‘Teach?’

He looked sheepish. ‘Oh, yeah I got talked into it. I give a few piano lessons in the village. Sylvia and Angus’s granddaughter, for one.’ He scratched his head bashfully, and for some reason this endeared him to me tenfold. How sweet. He didn’t need the money. He was in the City, in insurance, a flourishing business, yet out of the kindness of his heart … And I liked the idea of him sitting patiently by a piano listening to scales, a small child’s faltering rendition of ‘Für Elise’. Encouraging, enthusing. Not charging around in a pink coat on an enormous horse, glaring at people.

‘I just called by to see if supper was still on. You know you said you’d ring me? I didn’t want to pressurize you into having it here, though, so my sister said she’d babysit. We could go out if you like?’

He’d coloured up by the end of this. Softened? I’d melted. He’d lined up a sitter for me. How many men would do that? And, having suggested my place, in retrospect he’d felt uneasy about compromising me in the snugness of my own home – sofas, soft lighting, double bed upstairs, albeit horribly close to the children. I looked into his anxious face, those frank blue eyes. Suddenly I stepped forward, reached up and curled my hand around the back of his neck, gently bringing his lips down to mine.

‘I’ve got a better idea,’ I murmured when we’d kissed. ‘Yes, please, to your sister. But let’s make it your place.’

His eyes didn’t so much light up as blaze like a fruit machine that’s landed a row of pears. Melons, perhaps. Because desire was there, certainly.

‘Oh, Poppy,’ he breathed as he gazed down at me.

Oh, Poppy. You see? That was all it took.

Feeling in control for the very first time that day, I said goodbye and went up my path.

‘See you then,’ he called.

‘Yes, see you,’ I assured him over my shoulder as he went off to teach, a definite spring in his step.