‘Was it Mack?’ Pax was demanding. She couldn’t look him in the eye, he noticed.

‘Yes.’

‘Why on earth didn’t you come and get me? Is he still there?’ Pulling her hat off, she hurried towards the wall phone.

‘He told me not to get you. He asked me to give you a message.’

She spun around, looking intently at his left shoulder.

‘It’s a bit personal…’ He glanced at the other sister, uncertain whether Pax would want her to hear it, however ludicrous. It might be a truth once removed, another man, an illicit love affair. She was a beautiful woman. There was all too often someone else involved; he should know.

‘Alice, why not go over to the house and put the kettle on?’ Pax suggested.

‘Are you sure?’ Alice eyed Luca fiercely.

‘Absolutely.’ Pax’s eyes flickered guiltily towards Luca, and he realised that he might have known her less than twenty-four hours, but he almost certainly knew more of her inner life than her sister, from her decimated marriage to her drink problem.

She waited for Alice to go, staring at his ear now. Her voice shook. ‘So what did he say?’

He repeated it word for word, including all three fuckings.

‘Can you say that again?’

He did so, without the fuckings this time.

When she started to snort, he thought she was crying, and wearily went in search of some kitchen roll. She let out a weird half-wail, leaning against the countertop, which she slammed with her palm.

Luca hoped she wasn’t about to get violent again. He’d just about had enough.

Cautiously, he edged beside her and offered the hunks of tissue across. She howled, banging the surface again.

He put a reassuring hand on her back. It shook beneath the thick coat fabric.

And he realised she was laughing. Was totally overcome with laughter. Breathless, she turned to face him, pressing her hands to her cheeks and slapping them to pull herself together. Her eyes gleamed. ‘Oh God, this is so cruel, and I can’t bear it that I’m laughing at him, I really can’t, except…’

She was off again, her head bashing against her arm as she doubled over, dislodged hairclip releasing a sea of red curls. And there was something so infectiously liberated about her sheer joy, so unselfconscious, that Luca couldn’t help smiling. It was like watching Beck earlier, the first few moments the stallion had been let loose in the round pen, when he’d turned himself inside out kicking up his heels and rolling before he’d frightened himself again.

‘I’m sorry.’ She struggled to regain her breath, wiping her eyes with the kitchen roll as the laugher finally abated enough to talk. ‘And I’m so, so sorry that I shouted at you, and I know you won’t forgive me, particularly as we really don’t like each other very much and you almost certainly want to go to bed with my mother, which means I’m probably never going to like you, so you’re quite the wrong person to share this with, but we have been through a lot today, you and me, so I might as well to tell you.’ She took more deep gulps of breath, like a marathon runner who’d just burst through the tapes. ‘I’ve just realised something.’ The smile widened, golden gaze bright as harvest moons. ‘I’ve just realised I’m free. I’m actually free. Thank you! I could kiss you.’