‘Maybe it was easier that way? You hid what you knew about his past from us.’

‘Nothing’s hidden now,’ he promised, taking her shoulders and standing her opposite him. Letting go, he started walking backwards, counting.

‘What are you doing?’

‘… eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve steps. Twelve steps between us. I’m back at Step One.’

‘Admit you have a problem.’

He didn’t hesitate. ‘I love you. I fell in love with you the day I met you. The stroke of midnight would be an exaggeration – you were kissing another man at the time, and you weren’t great company after that, to be honest – but later that day something happened. I can’t tell you if it was you pulling the wires from your bra, throwing a feed scoop at me or getting the giggles because you realised you were breaking out of your marriage, but I just loved you, Just like that. That’s my problem.’

Pax looked at him across the cobbles. ‘We have exactly the same problem.’

‘Remind me what Step Twelve is again?’ he asked.

‘You’d better come over here and find out.’

21

‘Isn’t this fecking shite?’ Bridge hissed at her fellow Saddle Bags as they picked vegan amuse bouche crumbs from their cleavages and tried not to gawp at Mr Well Cottage’s Phileas Fogg mutton chop sideburns in the next-door group, let alone the fact he was talking to a trio that looked suspiciously like Kate Moss, Damien Hirst and Stella McCartney.

The grand opening of Suzy David at The Hare in Compton had brought Cotswold and Bardswold celebrities within close reach of the villagers. There were even paparazzi outside. Petra had walked in three times so far, hoping to be snapped to no avail.

‘I think it’s thrilling,’ she insisted. ‘Well worth a night out of the shed. Look, there’s that actor from… um… um, help?’

‘Fifty Shades of Grey,’ Gill obliged.

‘I think he’s one of the waiters, love.’ Mo was still trying to get edamame and chia falafel out from between her teeth.

‘You watched Fifty Shades of Grey, Gill?’

‘I’ll have you know I watched Nine and a Half Weeks, back in the day.’

‘Mickey Rourke still does it for me.’

‘You know the rules, ladies. No vintage fecking pin-ups.’

‘Don Johnson. Speedboats and no socks, ooh.’

‘Stop it.’

‘Michael Praed. Robiiiin-da-da-da-da. The only mullet still rocking it after three decades.’

‘Stop it.’

‘Trevor Eve. Shoestring. The Magnum PI of Bristol.’

‘That’s it, I’m not listening.’

‘Don’t all look now, but Carla Delevingne’s at eleven o’clock.’

‘No, that’s Carly – she’s waitressing.’

‘I thought it was the big fight tonight? King of the Turner Gypsies.’

‘Ash won on a technicality.’

‘What was that?’

‘Jed’s inside doing three months for hare coursing. They’ve rescheduled for May Bank Holiday so they can double up with the Horse Fayre.’

‘Who is that coming in now? Tell me it’s Prue Leith and Paul Hollywood?’

‘Auriol Bullock and… d’you know, that might actually be Paul Hollywood. Bridge?’