‘Maybe it’s a complicated recipe?’

‘Hello?’ a soft voice called, and they turned as an arched door in the wall at the far side of the yard opened with a rusty creak and Pax emerged, cramming a hat over hair still wet from the shower, small boy and grey puppy hiding behind her long legs. ‘You poor things, I didn’t know you were here! Welcome!’

Carly had forgotten how beautiful she was, tall and model thin, her waxy, translucent skin foxed with freckles. She felt her hands throb more, suddenly hot as coals.

‘Hello, who are you?’ Pax laughed as she was brought up short by Ellis with his feather duster racing across to stand to attention at her knees and gaze up, enthralled and too tongue-tied to speak. ‘It’s Ellis, isn’t it?’

‘Hey, Pax!’ Bridge was already belting across with her buggy like a yummy mummy eager to score a favourite seat at a pavement café. ‘This is the lad you saw at Maggers last week.’

Maggers? Carly’s lip curled. Why was Bridge suddenly sounding like Miranda Hart?

‘And you know Carly.’ She beckoned her to follow.

Watching Carly push her buggy over the cobbles, Pax’s yellow eyes glowed like hurricane lamps. ‘Oh goodness, you’re Ellis’s mum?’

She nodded defensively. Her hands were pure electricity now, driven by a thousand needles. ‘Say hello, Ellis.’

Ellis scuffed his toes shyly, still gazing up at the beautiful freckled face.

‘Hello.’ Pax’s wide golden gaze softened as she stooped down, arms outstretched to introduce Kes. ‘I hope you two will be friends.’

She thinks she’s the Duchess of Cambridge, Carly thought irritably, the cold rain pips like sharp gravel against her skin as she reluctantly acknowledged just how much she resented Pax her privilege, her family support, Bridge’s girl crush and her beautifully mannered son who was introducing himself to the still-mute Ellis and asking if he’d like to meet his pony.

‘You two are going to be in the same class tomorrow,’ Pax was telling the boys.

In school not life, thought Carly, saying, ‘Show your manners, Ellis, say hello!’

‘This is my ’Splorer Stick.’ Ellis showed off the manky feather duster he was illogically attached to, and Carly felt a rare flash of mortification, especially when Kes held out a classic one-eyed vintage bunny and introduced ‘Rab C. Nesbitt’ in a posh sing-song voice.

‘His father named him,’ Pax muttered at Bridge who snorted with laughter.

Excluded because she didn’t understand the reference, Carly wondered why someone like Pax would want to send her son to the village school.

Her hands were on fire.

‘I’m afraid I burnt the cakes like King Alfred then the dogs ate the rest,’ Pax was apologising. ‘I’m truly sorry.’ The deep voice was hypnotic enough to be forgiven anything. To Carly’s ear, it was ridiculously plummy. She added, ‘I think I’ve enough egg and flour left to make drop scones with lashings of honey after our walk round.’

‘Eggs on toast is fine for Ellis.’