‘She knows which side her bread’s buttered!’ Tom said, draining off the liquid and forking the fishy contents into a saucer. ‘What a life, eh? A comfy bed, a sunny garden, her own entry door, not to mention people falling over themselves to come and visit her, and even her own personal physician on call. This cat is pampered to within an inch of her life!’

‘Sounds pretty idyllic, when you put it like that.’

‘She’s certainly on the mend, isn’t she? Do you think maybe you could bear to leave her for a few hours later and join me for a meal? Oh, only local. The Brown Cow do a fantastic steak and kidney pie. Best for miles around. Chips or mash, a pile of peas, homemade gravy. What more could you ask for?’

Madi hesitated. She had been meaning to give the village pub a try ever since she’d arrived, but somehow she hadn’t got around to it yet. The thought of all those regulars sitting at the bar, their eyes turning in her direction as she walked in alone, hovered at the back of her mind. Silly really, for an actress used to being watched by strangers, to feel almost shy about drinking or dining alone. She’d done it often enough before, but going with Tom, having a companion to sit and chat with over a meal in a quiet corner, sounded wonderful. The trouble was, he was a married man. She knew, better than anyone, where a relationship like that could lead. The trouble it could cause. And what would the locals have to say about it, she wondered?

‘I don’t know, Tom. Your wife …’

‘Barbara has nothing to do with this, Madi. Look, I’m not asking you out in a romantic way. Friends, okay? You’re away from home, away from work, and you spend your days, and your evenings, in this cottage by yourself. I think you might be lonely. I know I am. Nothing more.’

‘You’re right, of course. I just wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.’

‘As long as we have the right idea, it’s none of anyone else’s business, is it? I don’t hold with village gossip. It can be hard to avoid listening to it sometimes, but I don’t create it, or abide by it. It’s my life, and my Barbara would want me to live it, and enjoy it, while I can. So, are you coming, or not?’ He winked at her. ‘Could be your last chance. My hurt pride just might mean that I never ask again.’

Madi took her time deciding what to wear. Tom was a married man, a friend, and this was not a date. She kept telling herself that, trying to convince herself that dressing up was not necessary, that Tom would not be expecting her to look overly glamorous, just for an evening eating pie and mash in a small village pub. Not that she had the sort of clothes with her to create a glam look even if she wanted to. No, trousers it would have to be, and a nice top. Just a hint of make-up, and she would discard her flat shoes for the one good pair of heels she had brought with her. She stood in front of the bedroom mirror and toyed with the idea of not wearing the wig, putting it on and then taking it off again several times. Tom had said she looked better without it, but she knew he had only said that to boost her confidence. Her half an inch of pale stubble might look okay when sitting at home sipping tea, but out for a meal? No, she would feel more like her old self with a decent head of hair. Long hair. It would make it less likely that she might be stared at, talked about, pitied.