Drew phoned her at nine o’clock. ‘We’ve decided to go down tonight. To get Dock of the Bay settled. I know Suzy’s driving down first thing with Luke. Kit and Rosa were very impressed with her. Your parents OK?’

‘Fine, thanks. Drew –’

‘Good. And you’ll definitely be on the bus, won’t you?’

‘Yes. Drew, is –’

‘What was the hat like?’

‘Amazing. Drew, is Caroline there with you?’

‘Yes, that’s right.’

She felt bitterly ashamed. It was all so underhand. She swallowed. ‘Right, then. I’ll see you somewhere in the grandstand tomorrow.’

‘Yes.’

‘I love you.’

‘Likewise,’ Drew said, with appalling pain in his voice.

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty

Derby Day dawned, as forecast, hot and sunny. Those of Milton St John who had not already departed for the Surrey Downs were gathered outside the Village Stores.

‘I wouldn’t wear your hat yet, Mum.’ Maddy leaned towards her mother. ‘Not if you’re intending to sit on the top deck for the journey. You’ll lose it before we get out of the village.’

‘I’ve got plenty of room for it in here.’ Mrs Beckett patted her voluminous handbag. ‘I’ll pop it in when we start, but I just wanted to look the part.’

‘You do, Mum.’ Maddy smiled fondly. ‘You look lovely.’

Mrs Beckett was wearing an aquamarine two piece, and the wedding hat had been swathed in matching chiffon for the occasion. Maddy’s dad was wearing his only suit and looking nervous.

Maddy squeezed his hand. ‘Suzy’ll be fine.’

‘I bloody hope so. I’ve got a hundred quid each way on her, but not a word to your mother.’

Her parents had been stunned into silence when Maddy had appeared in the sitting-room in the green dress, the green shoes, and the opal earrings. And they hadn’t even seen the hat.

‘Oh, what a smashing get-up, Maddy.’ Bronwyn bustled out of the shop, followed by Bernie, and locked the door with a Mrs Danvers-sized set of keys. ‘She looks really nice, doesn’t she, Bernie?’

Bernie looked, and unable to see more than the merest hint of bosom, nodded disinterestedly. Bronwyn, in beige and orange floral polyester, bustled amongst the villagers, ticking off names on her clipboard.

‘Is Fran coming with us, or did she go with Richard yesterday?’

‘She’s definitely with us,’ Maddy said. ‘She rang earlier. She was having trouble with her shoes.’

What Fran had actually screeched was, ‘What sort of bloody shoes am I supposed to wear as a winning jockey’s bloody wife? I mean, am I supposed to be there with him, or is he supposed to be young, free, and single? Do I wear heels and tower above him or stick to flats and look frumpy? Jesus, Maddy! Help me!’ They’d settled on medium-heeled courts and decided she should stay in the background when – if – Richard won The Derby.