‘Hey, hey,’ Will crooned, crossing the kitchen at the speed of light. Next moment Estelle found herself being held by him, and realising that this was what she’d been subconsciously longing for ever since Will had last left for London. ‘It’s all right,’ he murmured soothingly, ‘it’s not you, you didn’t do anything wrong.’

Dizzily, Estelle breathed in the fresh Persil-scent of his diabolical plaid shirt. She was struggling to take in this startling turn of events. If she was honest, she’d daydreamed about something like this happening, but never believed for a moment it would ever actually happen.

‘I really shouldn’t be saying this,’ Will’s mouth brushed her ear, ‘but you have no idea how much I’ve missed you.’

Estelle’s stomach did a pancake flip. She couldn’t be attracted to a more wildly unsuitable man if she tried. For a start, Will Gifford was thirty-eight while she was forty-five, and when you weren’t exactly drop-dead glamorous, seven years was a lot. Secondly, Will was here because he was making a documentary about her husband, which was scarcely ideal. What’s more, she hadn’t been involved with any man other than Oliver since her eighteenth birthday. For heaven’s sake, if anyone in this house was suited to Will, it should be Kate.

But Estelle’s tangled train of thought was distracted by Will’s mouth finding hers, and she gave herself up to the sheer mindless pleasure of his kiss. Because sometimes chemistry happened and you made the discovery that you just didn’t care. Anyway, when was the last time Oliver had pressed her up against the fridge and ravished her? Determined not to feel guilty, Estelle reminded herself that the only thing that got Oliver excited these days was profit margins and business plans.

If she painted herself pink, like the Financial Times, she might have more luck.

‘We shouldn’t be doing this.’ Belatedly, her conscience kicked in. ‘What about Oliver?’

‘No problem, he’s still in London. I spoke to him before he went into his meeting. He won’t be home before six.’

‘I didn’t mean that,’ Estelle panted, because Will was still stroking her face. ‘I meant he’s my husband.’

‘ Really? The one who neglects you?’ Will raised his eyebrows. ‘The one who doesn’t deserve you?

That husband?’

‘He’s just busy, he doesn’t mean to neglect me.’

‘So you want me to stop? You’d rather I didn’t come near you?’

Trembling, Estelle whispered, ‘No. I just ... wasn’t expecting this. It’s all been a bit, um, sudden.’

‘Nice sudden or nasty sudden?’ said Will.

Estelle smiled. ‘Nice sudden. But scary too. Kate could be back at any minute.’ This was true, but it had also occurred to her that she hadn’t shaved her legs for five days; worse still, she was wearing knickers made from a kind of weird stretchy honeycomb-patterned material that, when you took them off, left an unfortunate honeycomb imprint all over your bottom.

‘I’ve thought of you more often than you’d believe,’ Will murmured. ‘Seriously. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before.’

The chances were that he wouldn’t even notice her honeycomb-patterned bottom. And if he did, he probably wouldn’t care. But Estelle couldn’t take that risk. The prospect of getting naked in front of another man was terrifying enough. If Will burst out laughing she’d be mentally scarred for life.

Then again, she wouldn’t say no to another kiss.

‘Don’t you have work you should be doing?’ Estelle glanced at the kitchen table upon which were piled the bags containing his video camera and filming equipment.

‘Just a few background shots. No hurry.’ He paused. ‘I know what you’re thinking, by the way.’

‘Wh-what?’

‘You’re worried about your body. Don’t be.’ Smiling, Will said, ‘If I’d wanted a twenty-year-old stick insect, I wouldn’t have spent the last week thinking shamefully erotic thoughts about you.’

Erotic thoughts.

‘Actually, forget I said that.’ Will pulled a face. ‘Erotic thoughts just sounds sleazy, and I promise you I’m not sleazy. It’s just ...’ he paused, gently stroking her hair back from her temples and letting it fall through his fingers, ‘you’ve been on my mind.’

‘Oh,’ breathed Estelle as his warm mouth closed over her mouth and the length of his body pressed thrillingly against hers. It was the most wonderful sensation, glorious in its own right and made doubly so because who would have thought she had the power to instil such desire? She’d honestly thought that once you hit forty all the passion and excitement of youth became a thing of the pa

‘Oh!’ squeaked Estelle, less breathily this time as the kitchen door creaked open. Leaping away from Will so fast she almost cracked her skull open on the oak wall cabinet, she felt abject terror rise up in her throat like bile.

‘It’s OK.’ Will smiled as Norris, having executed his leaning-against-the-door trick in order to force it open, ambled into the kitchen.

‘I thought it was Kate. Or Oliver. God, what if it had been?’ Tingling all over with a mixture of fear and desire, Estelle rubbed the back of her head.

‘Poor you, let me have a look at it. Government health warning,’ said Will, tenderly feeling the bump. ‘Adultery can seriously damage your health.’

Adultery. Estelle’ s mouth went dry at the sound of the word. How could she take that risk?

‘Will, I’m flattered, but I can’t.’ As the words spilled out, she didn’t know whether to congratulate herself on her moral strength or despise herself for being such a wimp.

‘You don’t want to?’

Oh, how could he even ask that?

‘It’s Oliver. We’ve been married for twenty-seven years.’ Will sounded amused. ‘We don’t have to tell him, you know.’

‘But I’m such a hopeless liar,’ wailed Estelle. ‘I mean, I’ve never needed to lie before, so I haven’t had the practice. I just know I’d stammer and go red and get it all horribly wrong, and we’d be found out in no time.’

‘Sshh, OK, that’s fine.’ Will’s tone was soothing. ‘We won’t do anything you don’t want to do.’

This instantly made Estelle want to do it.

‘No sex,’ said Will.

Now she really wanted to have sex.

‘Maybe just a spot of minor flirting,’ Will went on. ‘How would you feel about that?’

Is that all? thought Estelle, already feeling deprived. Then she gave herself a mental slap, because he was absolutely right. She couldn’t betray Oliver, she mustn’t sleep with Will, and flirting was fine, really it was. All the fun and none of the guilt. What could be more harmless than that?

A spot of minor flirtation and the occasional bit of kissing.

‘Sounds ... great.’ Faintly flustered by her own thoughts, Estelle smoothed down her pink and white shirt. In the corner of the kitchen Norris was slurping noisily from his water bowl, which put a bit of a dampener on the seductive atmosphere.

‘Well,’ Will said good-naturedly. ‘Could have been better, but at least you didn’t run away screaming in horror. I’m happy with that.’

He didn’t know it, but he’d made her year. Talk about an ego boost. Unable to contain the joy bubbling up inside her, Estelle said, ‘Me too.’

Nuala’s collarbone wasn’t the only thing on the mend. Like a wonderful unexpected Christmas present, breaking up with Dexter was turning out to be far less traumatic than she’d imagined. So much so, in fact, that it was almost embarrassing. In the past when boys had dumped her, she had always been distraught, weepily imagining that her life was over and that she’d never know happiness again. Having actually been quite famous for the extent of her declines, Nuala had naturally expected something similar to be happening now, but it simply hadn’t materialised. No depression, no sense of utter hopelessness, no weight loss even, which was a bit of a blow.

‘I can’t understand it,’ Nuala told Maddy as she jauntily swung the door of Snow Cottage shut behind them, ‘I feel absolutely fine. I don’t even get that choked-up thing in my throat when I see Dexter.

You know what? If I’m honest, it’s almost a relief to have it over and done with.’

‘Good.’ Maddy was pleased for Nuala, but her speedy recovery from breaking up with Dexter was a double-edged sword. On the one hand, it was good that Nuala was cheerful and in such a positive state of mind. On the other hand, there was such a thing as being annoyingly cheerful and positively irritating.

‘Two years we were together,’ Nuala marvelled, swinging her turquoise shoulder bag by its plaited leather straps as they headed across Main Street to the pub. ‘Two whole years and I’m completely over him! It’s like a miracle, I can’t tell you how great it feels!’

Which was all very well, but not what you particularly wanted to hear when you’d never felt more empty and miserable in your life. The thing with Nuala was that she’d spent the last two years being treated like rubbish by a man she should never have got involved with in the first place. Never had two people been less compatible. No wonder she was glad to be out of a relationship like that. But –

Maddy closed her eyes briefly – that wasn’t how it had been with her and Kerr. Breaking up with someone you knew was the love of your life wasn’t nearly so easy. Already, in the space of a few days, she had lost half a stone and knew it didn’t suit her.

But Nuala had insisted on dragging her out for the evening because moping around the cottage was just – quote – dull, dull, dull, and in the end Maddy had run out of arguments. Which was why they were here now, at the Angel.