"Yes, who is that?" asked Janey. "I've spotted him down here before, mostly when I run, first thing. He's always got those jars of stuff, like specimens."

“Ted Fleming. He's a conservationist," Babs told her. "He's on secondment to Truro from Imperial College, doing a special report for the government, apparently. It's to do with the environmental effects of toxic waste on the coast. He's a professor."

“Cute,” Janey remarked. “For a professor.”

“Very," Babs purred, glancing at me.

"I met him earlier," I told them. "Or Celia did. She rather likes him."

“Does she indeed," murmured Babs, with a hint of irritation.

“That makes sense. He always seems to have a gang of students trooping along after him." Janey nodded towards a sand dune where something resembling a camp had been set up: a gnomic gathering of earnest young people, mostly in hoodies, were hugging their knees.

"What a load of hoydens you are." Tommy rode up beside us at a collected canter, his riding skills — like his social skills, I'd noticed — somewhat improved. “So that's the mailman and the conservationist covered. Is there anyone safe from this alarming coven of sexual predators?"

Too late, he realized he'd set himself up. We turned on him in delight and chorused collectively: "Yes —you!"

Tommy threw his head back and roared. The horses, sensing the mood, danced feverishly, fighting their bits, desperate for their heads. As one, we loosened our reins and gave it to them. Off they shot. We galloped through the shallow surf along the shoreline, the wind in our faces, water up to our boots, splashing up a storm, as we thundered from one end of the beach to the other.

Chapter 9

When we returned from the ride, clattering into the yard, the horses on a long, relaxed rein and happy to be home, the back door opened. Hugo came out to greet us, having no doubt heard the hooves coming up the drive. He crossed the yard to talk to his guests first, asking if they'd enjoyed it, poking fun at Tommy's hat, admiring Janey's young horse, and why oh why did my heart still do that? When I so wished it wouldn't? Race away at lightning speed and make my chest tighten to accommodate its rickety-rackety pace? I watched out of the corner of my eye as the three of them laughed and joked together. He held Janey's horse as she dismounted. As he came my way I'd had time to summon up an easy smile and I was impressed with my jovial tone as I vaulted off backwards.

"Not tempted, Hugo?" Unfortunately, my horse moved suddenly, so my bottom was very close to his face as I said it.

I blushed as I turned, but luckily, Hugo's eyes were elsewhere, lowered as he flicked a horsefly off his knee. Only Babs shot me an amused look.