‘You are bloody irritating.’ Suzy wrapped a towel round her nakedness as she waited for the bath to fill. ‘I’ll keep you to that, though. As soon as Luke has won The Derby and we’ve finished celebrating, then you can tell me.’

‘You’ll be waiting a long time then.’ Maddy mashed potatoes with vigour. ‘Because Richard is going to win The Derby.’

‘I’ve had a tenner on Luke.’

‘You can’t. Jockey’s aren’t allowed to bet.’

‘John put it on with his. Anyway, you’re splitting hairs. Whoever wins The Derby, you’ll tell me about Diana then?’

‘Yes,’ Maddy sighed, ladling potato on to the creamy cod. ‘It won’t matter any more. Now, go and have your bath. This won’t be long.’

Suzy scuttled away, and as Maddy stood up from sliding the pie into the oven the letter box rattled. Wiping her potatoey hands down her jeans, Maddy kicked the rug away and opened the door.

Drew stood on the doorstep. It was a dank, grey evening and his dark hair was studded with raindrops. As always, he looked gorgeous, and Maddy’s stomach dissolved. He smiled. ‘Is it a bad time?’

‘Of course not.’ Maddy wanted to die. Her jeans were almost as scruffy as her sweatshirt, and her hair, unwashed for three days, was tied in an unbecoming ponytail. ‘Come in.’

‘God, that smells wonderful.’ Drew sucked in his breath. ‘What is it?’

‘Suzy and three gallons of Badedas.’ Michael Bolton was warbling at full tilt from behind the bathroom door.

‘The food, idiot.’ Drew laughed.

‘It’s only fish pie. Would you like to stay for supper? I’ve done loads – or weren’t you stopping?’ Please let him say he had somewhere else to go just for half an hour, she prayed. Just to give her time to tart herself up a bit. Again, capricious fate wasn’t on her side. He was already tugging off his leather jacket.

‘I was going to have a word with Suzy and then invite you to the pub. However, as I’ve been living out of the freezer, a real meal would be wonderful. If you’re sure …’

‘Positive.’ She hung the jacket on the bathroom door. ‘I always do too much. There’s broccoli and carrots, too. What would you like to drink?’

‘Anything. We can still go down to the Cat and Fiddle later. You’ll have to let me repay you for supper.’

She splashed the remains of a bottle of Lambrusco into two glasses and handed one to him. Her fingers brushed his and she snatched them away in case they were encrusted with cod.

‘I hope the weather improves before the weekend.’ She watched the soft grey rain sweeping from the downs. ‘It would be such a shame to have a soggy Derby.’