It didn’t take a mind-reader to guess what Will was thinking. Juliet was wearing a white, peasant-style Indian cotton blouse and a swirling calf-length skirt strewn with poppies. Her dark hair was tied back in a loose glossy plait. Her eyes, darker still, were alight with gentle humour. Oliver, watching Will’s reaction to Juliet, wondered whether it was those eyes or her glorious hourglass figure that appealed to him most.

‘How’s business?’ Oliver said easily.

‘Oh, pretty good. We get by.’ Dimples appeared in Juliet’s cheeks. ‘I’m sure trade will pick up now that you’re back.’

‘Funny you should mention it. Estelle forgot to buy Parma ham this morning.’

‘Customers with expensive tastes and more money than sense,’ Juliet told Will cheerfully as she crossed to the chill cabinet, ‘are my favourite kind. Three packets or four?’

Oliver thought about it. ‘Better make it six.’

‘Gravlax?’

‘Go on then.’

‘How about those olives you like?’

‘You’ve twisted my arm.’

‘And we’ve got the most amazing Sevruga caviar.’

‘Now you’re pushing your luck,’ said Oliver.

‘Oh well, worth a try.’ Juliet laughed as she rang up his purchases on the till and expertly packed them into a Peach Tree brown paper carrier with string handles. ‘Thanks very much, I’ll put it on your account. And we look forward to seeing you again soon.’

‘Bye, Mr Taylor-Trent,’ chorused Tiff and Sophie as they left the shop.

‘Bye,’ said Oliver. ‘Don’t spend it all at once.’

‘It wasn’t that much money,’ Sophie told him. ‘Only three pounds twenty pee.’

‘Wow,’ breathed Will, when they were out of eavesdropping range of the children. ‘I mean ...

wow.’

‘ She has that effect on men,’ Oliver agreed. ‘I tell you, if I were twenty years younger, I’d be tempted myself.’

‘It’s not just her. This whole ... place.’ As Will Gifford spread his arms to encompass Ashcombe, a button went ping and parted with his shirt. ‘I mean, are any of the people who live here normal?’

‘ Funny you should say that.’ Oliver steered him up the road towards the mini supermarket. ‘Brace yourself, you’re about to meet Theresa Birch.’

You knew your subconscious was up to something when you went into Bath to buy a new pair of trainers and a bottle of contact lens cleaning solution, and scuttled home three hours later with a lime-green silk and velvet bra and knicker set instead.

What a trollop.

Worse still was hearing the front door open and guiltily stuffing the carrier bag containing your new bra and knickers under the sofa.

‘Hi, darling.’ Marcella came bursting into the living room. ‘Buy something nice?’

Maddy pulled a face. ‘Couldn’t find any trainers I liked.’

‘Oh, what a shame. So you didn’t get anything at all?’

‘No, just looked around the shops.’ Not just a trollop, but a wicked lying trollop. Wondering if this was how people felt when they smuggled hard drugs through customs, Maddy hurried through to the kitchen and put the kettle on. She imagined the hidden underwear pulsating and glowing like kryptonite, signalling its presence to Marcella. ‘Chocolate biscuits?’

‘No thanks, but I’d love a raw carrot.’ Marcella grinned. ‘What a ridiculous question. Of course I want chocolate biscuits – ooh, here come the rabble.’ She jumped to one side as the door crashed open again. Jake, Sophie and Bean came clattering down the hallway and erupted into the kitchen. Sophie, covered in grass stains and dust, was clutching a football and looking triumphant.

‘She’s lethal,’ complained Jake. ‘Almost broke my leg. She’s Vinnie Jones in a skirt.’

‘He lost,’ Sophie said matter-of-factly. ‘And I don’t wear skirts. Anyway I’ve never heard of Vinnie Jones. Who’s she?’

‘That reminds me,’ said Marcella. ‘Vince and I are having a barbecue tonight, if you fancy coming along.’

‘Great,’ said Jake.

‘I can’t.’ Maddy used the excuse she’d had the foresight to prepare earlier. ‘I’m meeting up with Jen and Susie in Bath.’ She looked suitably regretful. ‘We’re having a girly night out.’

‘Oh well, never mind. Give them my love,’ said Marcella warmly, which only made Maddy feel worse. ‘And if you’re home before midnight, come on over, we’ll still be going strong – oh, darling, what have you got there? Is that a present for me?’ Bending down, she reached for the glossy black carrier Bean was dragging into the kitchen, and Maddy felt herself break into a light sweat. For a panicky moment she wondered if she could get away with pretending it was a present for Marcella, but it wasn’t her birthday and the bra was the wrong size and her mother wasn’t stupid. So basically she wasn’t going to be able to get away with it at all.

‘I say, these are a bit special.’ Lifting out the tiny velvet-trimmed bra and knickers, Marcella’s dark eyes danced with mischief. ‘Been out buying for a lady friend, darling?’

‘Nothing to do with me.’ Jake raised his hands, absolving himself.

‘Maddy? I thought you said you didn’t find anything you liked.’

‘I ... I changed my mind.’ Maddy stammered, uncomfortably aware of Jake’s gaze upon her. ‘I mean, I did like them, so I bought them, but I’m going to take them back to the shop. Too ... um, expensive,’ she added hurriedly as Marcella glanced at the price tag and let out a low whistle. ‘It was a moment of madness, I don’t know why I did it. I mean, you know me, it’s usually Marks and Spencer’s multipacks.’

Maddy knew she was gabbling, but this part of the lie was actually true. She could get worryingly excited about tearing open a pristine M & S multipack.

‘You don’t know why you did it? Spent sixty pounds on these? Well, I think I can probably hazard a guess. So,’ Marcella gave her a less than subtle, tell-us-everything nudge, ‘who is he?’

Now Maddy really couldn’t meet Jake’s eye. She didn’t know where to look.

‘No one. Really. I just saw them and liked the colour.’

‘See that?’ Marcella pointed out of the kitchen window. ‘Flying pig. Sweetheart, you must have your eye on someone – hey, I know, why don’t you invite him to the barbecue? Bring Jen and Susie along too, then it won’t be so obvious, just tell him it’s a casual get-together for a few friends. Wouldn’t that be a fabulous idea? Then we can all meet him and see what we think!’

What Marcella would think truly didn’t bear thinking about. Shovelling the bra and briefs back into their black carrier, Maddy said, ‘Mum, I promise you, there isn’t anyone. This stuff’s going back to the shop, I’m meeting Jen and Susie in Brown’s at seven and if it’s OK with everyone, I’d quite like a bath before I go.’

‘She thinks I was born yesterday,’ Marcella said cheerfully as Maddy squeezed out of the crowded kitchen, ‘but she’s forgotten two important things.’

Ever inquisitive, Sophie said beadily, ‘What important things?’

‘I’m her mother,’ Marcella told Sophie, raising her voice so that Maddy could still hear as she escaped up the stairs. ‘And I’m always right.’

Chapter 14

The glorious bra and knicker set, now destined never to be worn, was back at the cottage. Wearing a bronze lace top and tight black trousers – because she was, after all, supposed to be out clubbing with Susie and Jen – Maddy parked in Armitage Close, an anonymous cul-de-sac around the corner from Kerr’s house. Feeling like a fugitive, she checked all around before sliding out of the car, then made her way hurriedly to his address.

He answered the door so quickly that Maddy knew he’d been looking out for her. Now that she was actually here, she could barely make out what he was saying, so loud was the adrenalin-fuelled pumping of blood in her ears.

She took a deep breath. This was it; she was here.

‘ I’m sorry, I’ll calm down in a minute. I just feel so bad about deceiving Mum ... Marcella ...’

Managing a shaky smile, Maddy said, ‘And then I thought about not coming here tonight and that made me feel worse.’

Kerr led her through the panelled hallway, into a high-ceilinged sitting room. Primrose-yellow walls and a cream carpet didn’t go at all with the heavy, reddish-brown mahogany furniture or the dark blue rugs sprawled across the floor.

‘I know.’ Kerr intercepted her gaze. ‘It’s horrible, a complete nightmare. I rented it furnished.

The kitchen has to be seen to be believed. Anyway, that’s not important.’ He shook his head. ‘Being appalled by my kitchen tiles isn’t why you’re here. Bloody hell, life would be a damn sight easier if it was.’

Maddy nodded, acknowledging this with feeling. If only she were Laurence Llewellyn-Bowen, life would be a doddle. Apart from having to wear the clothes, obviously.

‘I still can’t believe this is happening,’ Kerr went on. ‘It’s only been a week, for heaven’s sake. This time last Saturday I hadn’t even met you.’ He paused. ‘And then at the party, barn. Since that night I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.’

He was wearing a dark blue cotton shirt and faded jeans, the body beneath them — frankly — to die for. Her stomach knotted with lust, Maddy whispered, ‘I know. Me too.’ There was no point in trying to deny it; the attraction was fairly obviously mutual. She cleared her throat. ‘But what if we’re feeling like this because we know it can’t happen? Like being on a diet and knowing you can’t have chocolate mousse?’

‘OK, I thought about that too. That’s why I invited you here tonight.’ Moving towards her, Kerr smiled slightly and reached for her hands. ‘Come here, mousse.’