‘Who? Kerr McKinnon? Why would I have heard anything?’ Her skin prickled all over with the effort of sounding normal.

‘Oh, I know, daft question. It was just something Kate Taylor-Trent said last night. We were in the kitchen when she asked if he was back living around here. Gave me a jolt, I can tell you.’

She wasn’t the only one. Staring at Marcella, who was looking decidedly fierce, Maddy said, ‘What made her say that? I thought he’d moved to London for good.’

‘Let’s hope so. It was just that Kate thought she saw him the other day, driving down Gypsy Lane.’

Marcella’s mouth narrowed as she jabbed a fork into her tomato, splattering juice.

‘She probably made a mistake. Nobody’s seen him for years, they wouldn’t even know what he looked like these days. People change,’ said Maddy, her legs wound rigidly around each other like barbed wire under the kitchen table.

‘Ha!’ Marcella’s eyes were colder than ice. ‘Not that family. I’d recognise any of them, and that’s a promise.’

Oh Lord. ‘I’m sure it wasn’t him.’

‘Better not have been. Driving through Ashcombe as if nothing had ever happened.’ Bitterly Marcella went on, ‘Although as far as they’re concerned, I’m sure nothing ever did. Arrogant bastards, the lot of them. I daresay they’ve forgotten all about it by now. Oh, don’t let me get started on that family ...’

That was the trouble with Marcella, Maddy decided helplessly; she didn’t differentiate between the various McKinnons, just lumped them together as a single entity. It was no good trying to explain to her that Den McKinnon had been the one driving the car and that Kerr had been out of the country at the time. They were brothers and as far as Marcella was concerned that was all that mattered. Anyone who was a McKinnon could rot in hell.

‘ Now look what they’ve made me do.’ Crossly Marcella rubbed at the mark on the front of her scarlet silk kimono, as if Kerr McKinnon had personally erupted into the kitchen and fired tomato juice down her front. Glad of a diversion, Maddy jumped up and fetched a J-cloth from the drainer. Her mobile, lying on the kitchen table next to her plate, promptly began to chirp.

‘Nuala.’ Having glanced at the caller display, Marcella handed over the phone in exchange for the damp J-cloth. Taking it with trepidation, Maddy thought that on balance she’d have preferred to keep the cloth.

Chapter 16

True to form, Nuala wasted no time in coming straight to the point.

‘“Sex bomb, sex bomb,— she sang down the phone, evidently still in raucous karaoke mode. ‘So don’t hold back, tell me everything, how did it go?’ Then she laughed dirtily, like Benny Hill. ‘Or should that be, how’s it going? Are you still at his place? Been getting jiggy-jiggy, have we?

Come on, come on, I need to know!’

Maddy had the phone pressed so tightly against her ear it was a wonder it hadn’t burst through the other side. Nuala could be nerve-wrackingly loud when she wanted.

‘Yes, I’ve been hearing all about it,’ she replied brightly. ‘I’m here at Mum’s house now.

Marcella was just telling me about Dexter doing his Rod Stewart thing—’

‘OK, OK, I get the message,’ Nuala interrupted. ‘Just give me a few clues to be going on with. I know, we’ll play the yes/no game. First, did you—?’

‘Actually,’ Maddy broke in hurriedly, ‘we’re just having breakfast and my sausages are getting cold. Why don’t I ring you back later?’

‘Boring! No, you aren’t wriggling out of it that easily.’ Bossily Nuala said, ‘I’m the one who persuaded you to go over there, remember? And there’s nothing wrong with a cold sausage, so I want to hear all about it now.’

Confiding in Nuala had been a huge mistake, Maddy now realised. How could she have been so stupid?

‘OK, thanks, I’ll call you back in an hour.’ Cutting off Nuala’s outraged protests with a flick of a switch, Maddy slid the phone into her shirt pocket and said to Marcella, ‘You know what Nuala’s like, she’ll be wittering on for hours. Is there any more coffee in that pot?’

‘I’m not deaf, you know.’ Marcella shook her head, surveying Maddy with resignation. ‘I know what’s going on.’ Oh crikey.

‘What? Mum, I keep telling you, nothing’s going on.’

‘And you’ve always been a hopeless liar.’ Refilling their cups, Marcella said, ‘You’re seeing someone and you don’t want me to know about it.’

Prevaricating, feeling sick, Maddy stammered, ‘Why would I do that?’

‘Oh, come on, it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? He’s married.’

Married. Going red had its uses, Maddy discovered. Marcella, automatically mistaking fervent relief for miserable guilt, said, ‘There you see, I knew it. Oh darling, what have you got yourself mixed up in? How did this happen? How long has it been going on?’

Lost for words, Maddy shook her head helplessly.

‘A married man,’ Marcella continued. ‘Someone with a wife.’ She heaved a sorrowful sigh.

‘Sweetheart, this is bad news, you have to think about how you’d feel if you were married to someone who was cheating on you.’

Maddy shifted uncomfortably in her seat; what had seemed like a brilliant idea twenty seconds ago was turning out to be less brilliant than she’d thought. Marcella’s disappointment was almost as hard to bear as her incandescent fury would have been.

Almost, but not quite.

‘He’s separated from his wife,’ Maddy mumbled defensively. ‘Well, pretty much. As good as.

They’re getting a divorce.’

‘Are they? Truly? Or is that just what he tells you?’ Pushing her plate to one side, Marcella lit a cigarette and exhaled, the ruler-straight stream of smoke signalling her disapproval. For all her unorthodox lifestyle, she was a woman of high moral standards, with a strong sense of right and wrong.

‘They’re getting a divorce,’ Maddy promised.

‘Children?’

‘Oh, no.’

Marcella raised an eyebrow. ‘And is that true? Or could he be fibbing about that too?’

Outraged at the implied slur on her imaginary boyfriend’s character, Maddy wailed, ‘Why are you so suspicious? Of course he doesn’t have any children.’

‘Have you met his wife?’

‘No!’

‘Does she know you’re seeing her husband?’

Actually, make it too much of an amicable separation and Marcella might want to meet him too.

Hesitating, Maddy said, ‘Well, no.’

‘And you wonder why I’m so suspicious,’ sighed Marcella. ‘Sweetheart, he lied to her. What makes you think he wouldn’t lie to you?’

‘He just wouldn’t. Anyway, don’t lecture me. I don’t want to talk about this any more.’

It’ll end in tears. You have to finish it now,’ Marcella said gently. ‘Sweetheart, you know you must.’

‘Like I keep telling you, with your cigarettes.’ Maddy glanced pointedly at the Silk Cut smouldering in her mother’s hand. ‘And look how much notice you take of me.’

‘Fine.’ Marcella ground the half-smoked cigarette into the ashtray and fixed her with a challenging stare. ‘Let’s both give up what’s no good for us, shall we?’

‘It’s not the same thing!’

‘You just said it was.’

Maddy jutted out her chin like a teenager. This was ridiculous; they were about to have an argument about a boyfriend who didn’t even exist.

Except ... he did. He just wasn’t married.

He was Kerr McKinnon, which was worse.

‘OK, I won’t see him again. But you mustn’t nag me about it. And,’ she said truculently, ‘you have to give up smoking.’

Marcella looked as if she’d like to say a whole lot more, but was holding it inside her with enormous difficulty. Finally she said, ‘I’m only worried because I love you. Getting involved with someone like that won’t make you happy, sweetheart. You aren’t the marriage-wrecking type.’

‘I didn’t wreck his marriage, it was over months ago. But we aren’t talking about this any more, remember? Now, do you want some help with the clearing up or shall I go and see Nuala?’

‘I’d rather you went and saw lover boy, told him it was over.’

Thinking fast, Maddy said, ‘I can’t. Sundays aren’t .. . good.’ -

‘You mean he spends them with his wife.’ Marcella’s tone was sorrowful, but tinged with triumph. ‘Sweetheart, what does that tell you? He’s never going to leave her!’

‘He will. Just you wait.’

‘Oh please, have some dignity. You deserve so much better than this.’

‘I told you, I’ll stop seeing him,’ Maddy insisted. ‘It’s just that Sundays are difficult. I will do it, I promise. Just not today.’

* * *

‘We’re shut,’ said Dexter. ‘Can’t you tell the time?’ Actually, he was looking rather attractive this morning in a dishevelled celebrity chef kind of way. Dexter might be the world’s stroppiest character, but he definitely had sexy eyes. If you didn’t mind a few bags and wrinkles.

Or insults.

‘I need a quick word with Nuala.’ Maddy flashed him a bright smile, because Dexter didn’t scare her.

‘God, another one? Hurry up then, don’t take all day about it.’ Begrudgingly, Dexter allowed her inside the pub. Raising his voice he roared, ‘Nuala? Get down here, you lazy lump. Someone here to see you.’

‘It’s OK, I’ll go on up.’ Darting past him, Maddy headed for the staircase.

‘That’s it, and make sure you close the door behind you so I can’t overhear. She’ll be dying to catch you up on all the latest news,’ said Dexter with a smirk.