‘D’you think it’s anyone we know?’ Bridge whispered.

‘My bet’s on one of the Chipping Norton set.’ Mo embraced the idea with surprising enthusiasm. ‘Could never resist them fiery redheads. She mixes in high circles, I heard.’

Bridge gazed at the figure in the car, undeniably beautiful and foxily sylvan in an oversized tartan scarf, eyes huge, lips dewy buds, pale freckled neck swan-long, the sort of woman red-blooded country types inevitably wanted to devour. The chip on her shoulder sizzled hotly again.

‘Always was the prettiest of the Captain’s grandkids,’ Mo sighed.

At that moment, Pax put her head in her hands, shoulders shaking, grief-stricken. The two women looked hastily away, guilty eyes trained on the Old Post Office’s flashing icicles.

‘Make the most of tonight, duck.’ Kindly Mo groped for a distracting platitude. ‘Last night of the year is always special.’

‘Especially when your husband is nine hundred miles away and the farrier next door’s having open house.’

‘Are you sure going there is wise?’

‘Mo, I’ll be tucked up in bed in a onesie watching Jools from eleven. I rave vicariously through the party wall these days.’

‘One more night to blow the diet before I actually start the diet,’ Mo said cheerfully as they rode on.

Glancing over her shoulder at Pax, Bridge saw the redhead was raking her hair back from her wide-eyed face, talking again.

Her own phone started ringing in her pocket, her husband’s handsome, bearded mug on its screen when she pulled it out.

‘We miss you, kochanie!’ Aleš boomed in her ear. ‘Tomorrow, I try to change flights, yes? Come home early?’

‘Absolutely not. It’ll cost too much.’

‘You are worth every euro, moja kochana. Marzę o twoim dotyku.’

‘I dream of your touch too, baby, but—’

‘Is that horse feet?’

‘What?’

‘I hear horse hoofs. Jazda konna? You are riding?’

‘Yes.’ She pulled up and Craic whinnied throatily as his cob friend carried on. ‘So?’

‘You do not want us home sooner because you want to be with horse, yes?’

‘Don’t be silly, Aleš. Last time we changed flights home, it cost five hundred euro.’

‘Your horse cost more than that every month!’

‘Sure, it’s way less than that.’ Ahead of her, Mo had pulled up too, looking round questioningly.

‘You rather play with horse than see your family?’ he accused. Although Aleš wasn’t Craic’s biggest fan – and he was always more hot-blooded at home in Poland – she had a shrewd suspicion he was also pretty keen to get away from his mother.

Smiling reassuringly at Mo, she muttered through gritted teeth, ‘I love you more than life, my darling. Now stop being such a fecking dick, enjoy Sylwester with your family and hurry home. I miss you all.’

There were kissing noises in her ear. ‘Okay. I am dick. Kocham cię. I love you.’

‘Love you too. We’ll talk later,’ she rang off.

You are going to earn your spurs and enjoy the Craic, Bridge reminded herself, kicking on to catch Mo up. Without thinking, she glanced over her shoulder again at the Noddy car. Two pale, wet amber eyes were watching her now, the mouth moving fast.