The dining room doubled as her office, and it took nearly all the afternoon to make it presentable. It wasn’t even a proper room, just a corner of the sitting room that had a curtain across it. Maddy surveyed it. She’d drag in the kitchen table and the mismatched chairs, and with two stools and the ottoman there would be enough seats. The overhead lighting could cause a bit of a problem, especially with that crooked shade that cast an obscene shadow. What had she got that would give a soft, romantic glow? Candles, of course, Maddy thought happily, candles stuck in empty wine bottles. There were loads of those outside the back door. She’d coerce Suzy into bottle-washing as soon as she got home – that would be fair retribution for the flat battery – and cutlery washing, and plate and glass washing. After all, it was Suzy’s fault that the Pughs were coming to dinner.

If she peeled the vegetables tonight, and threw everything into the slow cooker before she and Fran left for Newbury in the morning, that only left a starter and a pudding. Some sort of dip would be a good idea – then she could just do extra vegetables for the crudités, and an apple pie. That was it. Organised. She really couldn’t see why people got into such a flap about entertaining. The phone diverted her from worrying about a tablecloth and napkins.

‘Maddy?’ She didn’t recognise the voice. ‘Maddy, it’s Drew. It’s very kind of you to invite us tomorrow night. I was ringing to see what veg you’d planned to go with the Mars bars.’ Drew laughed in response to Maddy’s giggle. It was a husky, toe-curling laugh, and for the life of her Maddy couldn’t imagine why Caroline would want to let it out of earshot.

‘I also wondered if we were to bring wine? I know it’s considered a social no-no in the higher echelons.’

‘God, bring whatever you like. When you’re as skint as I am, all contributions are grabbed with both hands.’

‘Great. That’s how I see it, too. Caroline was very pleased with the Shadows arrangements, by the way. She liked you.’

‘I liked her, too. Are you going to Newbury tomorrow?’

‘I hope to. I haven’t got anything running, of course, but it would be a great opportunity to size up the opposition. I might see you there – if not, at eight o’clock tomorrow. And Maddy, thank you.’

She was still staring dreamily at the telephone when Suzy nearly took the door off its hinges.

‘Mad!’ Suzy thrust the Evening Post under Maddy’s nose. ‘Read the racing page!’

She started to, but Suzy jabbed impatiently at the declarations for the next day’s Newbury meeting with a silver nail. ‘Holy hell, Mad! There! The Arlington Stakes! Fourth horse down! What does that say?’

‘Dancing Feet, trained by John Hastings … So?’

‘So? Dancing Feet doesn’t have a jockey listed, does it?’

‘No, but a lot of the runners don’t have jockeys sorted until the actual race day.’