By the time she’d returned to the sitting room she was clean and snug and deliciously warm. She’d wrapped herself in a white towelling dressing gown and twisted a huge gold towel around her hair. The shower room had been bright blue and chrome in Peter’s day, but Drew had transformed it with white tiles and gold fittings. She’d always coveted it when she’d cleaned. Fat piles of fluffly gold and white towels were always stacked on the shelf beside the door, and at least three mammoth white bathrobes hung on hooks. She thought it was the last word in luxury. When her quilted dressing gown was in the wash she had to scuttle about the cottage draped in a Mickey Mouse beach towel.

She curled up on the green sofa, tucking her bare feet beneath her, and towelled her hair. Inside Peapods’ solid walls the storm was muted, and the lightning jagging through the drapes was the only indication that it was still raging.

Drew dripped his way into the room. ‘Solomon’s fine. Dry, warm, no damage done, and eating his silly head off.’ He paused. ‘You look a lot better, too.’

‘I won’t stay.’ Maddy slid her feet to the floor. ‘Thanks so much for the shower and everything. If you could just lend me some clothes so that I can get back to the cottage, I’ll go.’

‘Is that what you want?’

‘Yes, I suppose so.’ Maddy couldn’t look at him.

‘OK.’ His face was stony. ‘But just let me get dry, then I’ll sort you out a pair of jeans and a jacket.’ He stopped and looked at her. ‘Thanks for being there tonight, Maddy.’

‘It’s OK. You’d have found him eventually.

‘I should have realised that he’d run to Dock of the Bay, silly old sod.’ Drew smiled fondly, then withdrew it. ‘You’re obviously itching to get away, so I won’t keep you much longer.’ He strode out of the room, leaving wet indents on the carpet.

Maddy towelled her hair until it stood out round her head in a halo of unruly curls, wishing she had a hairdryer and make-up.

Drew came back wrapped in a matching white robe. His fitted. Maddy dragged her eyes away from his brown legs and his long, bare feet. He walked across to the drinks cabinet and poured two tumblers almost brimful of whisky. Handing one to her, he dropped down beside her on the sofa.

‘Thanks.’ She clutched it gratefully. ‘But weren’t you going to find me some clothes?’

‘Yes. In a minute. I think we could both do with a drink. Cheers.’