"I hadn't, actually. I'll give anyone a second chance. But I have now I know he had such a go at Hugo. Celia, as you can tell, feels differently." I waggled my eyebrows and grinned. "Coffee, Babs? I'll put the kettle on."

"Oh . . . um – yes. Please." She frowned and looked a little displeased.

I got up and went inside. Filled the kettle at the sink. The radio was on quite loudly, but after a bit, I could hear fierce mutterings and hissings coming from the garden. I went to the toilet while the kettle boiled. First I had to find some more toilet paper, though. When I finally came out with a tray of mugs and a percolator, they both looked rather hot and cross. Celia's face was flaming with indignation and Babs was tight-lipped.

"Problem?" I blinked, setting the coffee down.

"No, no," Babs soothed. "Celia just . . . just took one of my ciggies. It was my last. She – she didn't realize."

"I didn't realize stealing was even possible," snapped Celia. She gave me a thin smile. "I didn't realize the conservationist—" her face momentarily twisted with rage, before she composed herself, “the cigarette," she enunciated elaborately, correcting herself, "had been reserved for you."

"I don't smoke!" I spluttered, confused.

"You don't do anything naughty since Hugo, but apparently, it's high time you did. Apparently it's your turn. And I'm to stand down. Your need is greater. Well, good luck with that. I'm off to start work. Can't sit here nattering all day, I've got a gallery to fill."

And with that she went into the cottage to collect her easel and paints, leaving me staring after her, my mouth open. A moment later she came out and stalked back past us. She marched down the path that led towards the cliffs, backpack on her back, easel under arm, canvas in hand.

"What on earth was that all about?" I exclaimed.

"Oh, don't worry about her," Babs said airily, waving her ciggie in the air. “She's sexually frustrated. I know the signs. Comes out in temper."

"Yes, but—"

“She needs to get laid," she said firmly. She narrowed her eyes at Celia's departing back. "Callum Murray's just left his wife. He's awfully good fun."

I snorted. "Callum Murray? Celia's a sophisticated London girl with an important exhibition coming up. She's not looking for a bunk-up with a local farmer – Callum's got straw between his teeth. And anyway, I think she's rather set her cap at Ted."

Babs took a long, thoughtful drag of her cigarette. Blew it out in a thin blue line. "Yes, but Ted may be otherwise engaged."