‘In what way?’ he asked quietly, watching her face.

‘Maybe if I’d met the right guy in my twenties…’ Perdita was very conscious of his eyes on her, and she bent her eyes to her wine once more, swirling it mindlessly round and round. ‘Maybe then I would have settled down, done the whole marriage-and-kids thing…but I didn’t. I’ve had my share of relationships, and some of them were more fun than others, but there wasn’t anyone I could really imagine wanting to wake up with every single morning.’

Except Nick, of course.

‘And now I’ve been on my own too long,’ she went on. ‘I’m used to having my own space. I like being able to go home and close the door and do whatever I want, whenever I want, without consulting anyone else. I don’t get lonely. I earn a good salary. I’ve got good friends, a nice flat, I can afford to travel…Why would I want to give up all that to get married?’

‘No reason, unless you think of marriage as sharing rather than giving up your freedom.’ Ed’s voice was carefully neutral.

‘Sharing means compromising,’ said Perdita. ‘I’m forty now. I’m set in my ways, and the chances are that anyone I meet is going to be too. Relationships are more complicated now. We’ve all got baggage-failed relationships, grief, disappointment, responsibilities-and that all has to be part of the compromise too. You have to really want someone to be prepared to compromise your whole life.’

‘And you never have?’

Irritated by her own endless swirling, Perdita put her glass down with a click. ‘Yes,’ she said, her eyes sliding away from his. ‘But he didn’t want me enough to compromise, and a relationship takes two. You can’t do it all on your own.’

‘No,’ said Ed, wondering what sort of man a woman like Perdita would love. What sort of man wouldn’t love her enough to compromise even a little.

‘So I’ve given up on compromise,’ said Perdita, and she snapped on a bright smile. ‘When I meet a man, I don’t think about anything except having a good time, and when it’s not fun any more, it’s over.’

Well, that told him, Ed thought wryly. ‘If you’re happy to be on your own, I suppose that’s the best attitude,’ he said after a tiny pause.

‘You obviously don’t like being on your own.’ For some reason, Perdita found herself wishing that she hadn’t been quite so adamant about the joys of single life. ‘Have you thought about getting married again?’

It was Ed’s turn to play with his glass. ‘When Sue knew that she was dying, she made me promise that I would move on and make a new life, try to find someone else, but it’s easier said than done. For a long while I couldn’t imagine being with anyone but her, and then, as time went on, I did think about what it might be like to find someone else but, between the kids and work, there hasn’t been that much time to think about meeting the right woman,’ he said dryly. ‘Even supposing I knew who or what the right woman was! But Lauren is fourteen now, so she’s getting more independent, and it means that I don’t need to struggle to find an acceptable babysitter if I do want to go out in the evening. I’m hoping that moving here will make a difference to all of us.’

‘Has it yet?’

‘It’s a bit soon to tell. In spite of moaning constantly about missing their friends, Cassie and Lauren already seem to have made new ones. Tom’s finding it harder. He doesn’t have their social skills.’

And you? Perdita wanted to ask. What kind of woman would be the right one for you?

‘Tom was fine with me this afternoon,’ she said instead, feeling that she was straying into very intimate territory. Perhaps it would be better to get back to more impersonal topics. ‘I felt sorry for him being landed with an old bag like me instead of having one of the other kids as a partner, but he certainly didn’t make it obvious.’

‘I should hope not,’ said Ed, evidently happy to follow her lead and steer the conversation back on to safer ground. ‘I don’t know what he thought at first-Tom’s not exactly chatty, as you’ve probably gathered-but I doubt very much that he considered you an “old bag”! He liked you.’

‘You didn’t ask Grace to put us together, then?’

‘Of course not. In spite of what my children think, I’m not that much of a control freak! I have to say that I was glad to see that he had been paired up with you, though. It meant he worked a lot harder than he would have done otherwise-swept along in your wake! I think he enjoyed it a lot more than he expected to, thanks to you.’

Perdita made a face. ‘I don’t know that “enjoy” was the operative word!’

‘Oh, come on, Perdita, it wasn’t that bad, was it?’

‘It wasn’t quite as bad as I was expecting,’ was all she would acknowledge. ‘I just can’t see how the project is going to work, though.’

‘Didn’t Grace show you the plans?’

‘Yes, but the project needs investment as well as a few people with forks,’ she pointed out. ‘It’s a huge area-the hard landscaping alone will cost a fortune.’

Ed’s mouth quirked in amusement. ‘There speaks a practical businesswoman! But I agree. Substantial investment is going to be needed. Grace tells me that she’s hoping to get sponsorship for all the materials and wants to persuade skilled craftsmen to volunteer to teach the kids how to lay bricks, make hedges and fences and that kind of thing.’

‘It all sounds a bit vague to me,’ said Perdita crisply, wondering when Ed had had all these cosy little chats with Grace and what else they had been talking about. ‘Fund-raising takes a lot of time. Grace told me that she’s organising all this from her front room at the moment and trying to run her own consultancy. She won’t be able to keep that going indefinitely.’

‘No,’ Ed agreed, getting up to stir his sauce. ‘Which is why I’ve offered to sponsor the cost of getting someone to work part-time on the project, doing all the administration and chasing up potential sponsors. Grace thought that was a brilliant idea.’

He lifted the lid of the big saucepan to check whether the water had come up to the boil, while Perdita turned her glass crossly between her fingers. Ed and Grace seemed to have a mutual admiration society going. Good for them.

She scowled down into her wine, aware that she might not mind if Ed hadn’t more or less admitted that he was looking for a new wife-or if she hadn’t liked Grace so much. She was quite a bit younger than Ed, of course, but she was lovely and, as a widow, she would presumably have a lot in common with him. They were perfect for each other, in fact.

And why was that thought so depressing?

CHAPTER SIX

SOMETHING in the silence suddenly made Perdita lift her head to see that Ed had turned from the cooker and was patently waiting for her to answer a question that she had been too wrapped up in her thoughts to hear.

‘Sorry?’ she said awkwardly, a slight flush staining her cheeks.

‘I was just wondering if you knew of anyone who might like a part-time job.’

‘I might,’ said Perdita, thinking of Millie, who had been struggling to make ends meet since her divorce. ‘Would the hours be flexible?’

‘I don’t see why not, but it would be up to Grace. Get them to contact her if they’re interested.’

Ed wiped his hands on the tea towel still draped over his shoulder and pulled open a drawer in search of cutlery. ‘Supper’s nearly ready. I’ll just lay the table.’

‘Let me do that.’ Perdita pushed back her chair and stood up. ‘I’ve just been sitting here doing nothing,’ she said guiltily.

‘You’re a guest. That’s your job,’ said Ed, but he let her come round to take the spoons and forks from him.

Perdita’s hands brushed his as she reached for the cutlery and a small, sharp thrill jolted through her at the touch so that she drew a breath that was dangerously close to a gasp. His skin was warm and she was acutely aware of how close he was. Afraid that he would read her response in her eyes, she didn’t look at his face but found herself fixing on the rough cotton weave of his shirt, the way one of his buttons was chipped and how his neck rose in a strong column from his casual open collar. She could see the pulse beating in his throat and had a sudden, shocking impulse to press her lips to it.

Aghast at herself, Perdita turned sharply away, fumbling with the cutlery in her hands. Her heart was thumping so hard that she was finding it hard to breathe.

Ed evidently hadn’t even registered that brief graze of their hands, or if he had it certainly hadn’t bothered him. He had found some mats and was slinging them carelessly around the table.

‘I usually insist that one of the kids lays the table,’ he said as Perdita concentrated fiercely on setting a spoon and fork on either side of each mat, ‘but as it tends to lead to a fight about whose turn it is and why I treat them as slaves I thought I’d spare you the aggro tonight. Sometimes it’s easier just to do it yourself.’

Although her head was bent, Perdita could see his hands as he set everything else on the table. They were strong and square and capable, and every time they caught at the corner of her vision she felt hollow. God, she must pull herself together!

‘This music is lovely,’ she croaked, hating the breathless crack in her voice. ‘What is it? Bach?’

‘That’s right.’ She felt him glance at her. ‘Do you like classical music?’

‘I like it when I hear it, but I don’t know anything about it at all. My father used to say I was a complete philistine.’

‘That’s what I say about Cassie, so perhaps there’s hope for her yet.’

‘There are masses of classical concerts in Ellsborough and I always say I’ll go, but of course I never get round to it.’

Perdita could feel herself babbling and wished she had something else to do with her hands. There were only so many times one could straighten a fork. She sat back down instead and picked up her wine. ‘I do enjoy it when I listen to it like now, though.’