‘Hang on, how can you have seen Dr Carter already?’ Maddy frowned, because it was easier to get an audience with the Pope than it was to persuade Dr Carter’s dragon of a receptionist to give you an appointment this side of Christmas.

‘Oh, it was fab. I made the receptionist an offer she couldn’t refuse.’ Marcella looked pleased with herself. ‘I turned up at the surgery and she tried to fob me off with an appointment in twelve days’

time, so I told her that wasn’t good enough, and that I was going to sit there in the waiting room until I was seen. Then the old trout tried telling me I wasn’t urgent and I said I’d spent the last twenty years trying to get pregnant and now that it looked as if I might actually be pregnant I wanted it confirmed this minute.’

‘ You’re brave.’ Maddy was filled with admiration.

‘Not really, just desperate. Then I started crying again, really loudly, and that was when Dr Carter came out and took me into his office. He’d been in there dictating his letters, listening to the whole shouting match and having a good laugh, the sod.’ Marcella’s smile was rueful. ‘He said nobody’s ever stood their ground quite like that before now. Usually his receptionist boots them out. But when he heard me say I was pregnant he had to come and get me for the sake of my blood pressure.

Anyway, so he examined me and confirmed it, and we both got a bit emotional because he knew how much it meant to me. Then he gave me all these leaflets and a big lecture on how to look after myself, because things can still go wrong, especially with me being so ancient.’

‘Ancient,’ Maddy scoffed, because Marcella had always looked so young for her age; she had the face and figure of a thirty-year-old.

‘I’m forty-three.’ For a moment Marcella’s smile slipped. ‘I’ve never been pregnant before. Dr Carter warned me about the risk of miscarriage. No cigarettes, obviously. No alcohol.

No unpasteurised cheese or raw eggs or climbing ladders. He made a point of telling me I should be taking things easy, avoiding any stress. No physical exertions and definitely no emotional turmoil.’

With a beatific smile, Marcella sat back and gently patted her flat stomach. ‘Just inner calm and relaxation classes and general blissfulness.’

Oh Lord. Maddy inadvertently caught Jake’s eye and instantly wished she hadn’t.

‘Hear that? No stress.’ Jake raised a meaningful eyebrow and Maddy glowered back at him.

‘Yes, darling, I was going to talk to you about that anyway,’ said Marcella. ‘Call me shameless, but I’m taking advantage of my delicate condition. Promise me you’ll stop seeing this married man of yours.’ Leaning across, she gave Maddy’s hand a squeeze. ‘Sweetheart, I’ve never asked you for anything before, but I’m asking you now. Please give him up. For this baby, if not for yourself.’

It was ten past seven. Back in the cottage, Jake was busy cooking a mushroom risotto while Marcella, with enormous relish, read aloud scary passages from the copy of You and Your Pregnancy she hadn’t been able to resist buying in WH Smith. Maddy, who had volunteered to pick Sophie up from her Thursday night dance class in Batheaston, rang Kerr as soon as she was safely inside the car.

He answered on the third ring, as she was heading out of the village.

‘D’you want the good news or the bad news?’

‘Well, you aren’t here,’ said Kerr, ‘so I can guess the bad news.’

‘I can’t see you tonight. We’ve got Marcella with us. She’s pregnant, can you believe it? You’ve never seen anyone so happy.’

‘That’s fantastic. I’m glad for her.’ Kerr knew all about Marcella’s years of longing for a baby.

Ruefully he added, ‘Even if she does wish I was dead.’

‘Not dead. Just ... preferably not on this continent.’ Maddy smiled as she said it, but her fingers tightened round the steering wheel.

‘So was that the good news, or is there more?’

Good news? Apart from Marcella’s pregnancy, when had there been any good news? Longingly Maddy pictured Kerr in his flat, stretched out across the sofa, drinking a lager and flicking through the TV channels, winding down after a hard day’s work, waiting for her .. .

‘ Hey,’ Kerr prompted, breaking into her muddled thoughts. ‘When am I going to see you? And I’m not talking about delivering sandwiches to the office,’ he added. ‘I mean when am I going to really see you?’

Maddy’s throat tightened. Now was the time to tell him if she had a shred of decency about her, an honest bone in her body, an ounce of loyalty towards Marcella.

‘Tomorrow evening.’ Her mouth was dry with shame; it took an effort to unstick her traitorous tongue from the roof of her mouth. ‘Tomorrow, seven o’clock. I. promise.’

At nine thirty, sunburned and windswept and smelling of the sea, Vince arrived at Snow Cottage to pick Marcella up. Having greeted Maddy and Jake, he bent over the back of the sofa and gave Marcella a kiss.

‘How was it?’ Marcella had made sure the incriminating book was out of sight, under a cushion.’

‘Fantastic. Perfect conditions.’ Vince’s dark hair flopped over his forehead as he tickled the soles of Sophie’s bare feet. Proudly he said, ‘Five sea bass, three plaice and a dozen mackerel.’

‘Oh darling, that’s brilliant. And guess what else? We’re going to have a baby.’

Vince stopped tickling Sophie’s feet.

‘What?’

‘I think you heard,’ Marcella said happily.

‘It’s a surprise!’ screamed Sophie, beside herself with excitement. ‘I wanted to tell you, but Dad said I wouldn’t get any pocket money for a year.’

Vince was gazing at Marcella. His dark eyes filled with tears of joy. Barely able to speak, he whispered, ‘A baby? Really?’

Marcella smiled and nodded. Maddy, watching Vince, knew how desperately he had always longed for children of his own.

The tears were sliding unashamedly down his cheeks now. With his Italian blood coursing through his veins, Vince made no attempt to hide them.

‘Oh, poor Vince.’ Scrambling off the sofa, Sophie rushed to fling her arms around him. ‘Don’t cry, babies aren’t that bad. We thought you’d be pleased.’

Chapter 26

Lurking in the bushes wasn’t something Maddy had much experience of doing. She was discovering that it involved close acquaintance with a lot more insects than she’d imagined.

It was eleven twenty, kicking out time at the Fallen Angel. Since waiting outside the entrance to the pub would only arouse the curiosity of departing regulars, Maddy was forced to skulk in the shadows with leaves tickling the back of her neck, moths flitting past her face like mini kamikaze pilots and grasshoppers making their raucous, ratchety grasshopper noises at her feet.

Jerking back in horror, Maddy discovered a spider had been busily constructing a cobweb between her hair and a handily positioned section of hedge. With a shudder of revulsion she pummelled the cobweb away and leaped to one side, time-warp style, as a grasshopper rasped in the vicinity of her left foot. Honestly, nature, sometimes there was just that bit too much of it.

Moments later, thankfully, the pub door opened and into a pool of light stepped the object of Maddy’s attention.

Maddy waited until the door had swung shut, extinguishing the pool of light, before emerging from the depths of the hedge.

Having finished her shift, Kate was on her way home. With her Prada bag slung over one shoulder, her skirt swirling and her high heels clacking along the pavement, from this angle she looked like a model on TV advertising the latest in confidence-boosting tampons.

It wasn’t until she turned her head, as Maddy crossed the road towards her, that the scars on her face were visible.

‘Can I have a word?’ said Maddy, wishing with all her heart that she didn’t have to do this, but knowing she must.

‘Fire away.’ Kate didn’t stop walking, or even slow down. Maddy kept pace with her as she headed for the junction where Main Street met Gypsy Lane.

Here goes.

‘Do you know?’

‘Do I know what?’

It was too dark to see whether Kate’s expression had changed, but she’d paused for a moment before asking the question.

‘OK,’ said Maddy, ‘I think you do know. But just in case you don’t, I’d rather not say.’

This time Kate didn’t hesitate. ‘I’m sorry, I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about.’

That sounded genuine enough. Phew, the relief. My mistake, thought Maddy; jumping to the wrong conclusion as usual.

‘Unless you mean the thing about you and Kerr McKinnon,’ said Kate.

Bugger.

‘ Well, yes, that’s the thing I mean.’ Humiliatingly, Maddy heard her voice wobble halfway through, making her sound like a petrified fourteen-year-old boy asking a girl out on a date.

‘Thought it might be.’ Kate sounded annoyingly confident;

she had the upper hand and she knew it. ‘Well, well, you and Kerr. I take it Marcella doesn’t know yet.’

Maddy braced herself.

‘No, and that’s why I need to talk to you, because—’

‘She’ll go ballistic? Disown you? Disembowel you?’

‘No,’ said Maddy. ‘That’s not the reason.’

‘It must give you a bit of a thrill,’ said Kate. ‘I bet you never thought you’d get a look-in with Kerr McKinnon.’ She paused, allowing Maddy to recall the time, all those years back, when Kerr had caused every girl’s heart to beat faster. At seventeen and physically irresistible, he’d been as out of reach to ordinary mortals as Robbie Williams or David Beckham today. As for those so-called ordinary mortals with tragic haircuts, beer-bottle spectacles and knock knees, well, who in their right mind would spare them so much as a second glance? Whereas Kate, already precociously advanced in the bosom department and supremely confident of her own looks at thirteen, had undoubtedly felt that before long she would have her chance with Kerr .. .