‘But with all your friends coming tonight … We don’t want to be in the way if it’s a dinner party.’

Maddy laughed. ‘It’s very informal. It’s to welcome the new couple across the road.’ She savoured the memory of Drew’s kiss for a delightful moment, then swallowed. He’d probably ring and cancel now. ‘Otherwise it’s only Fran and Richard, and Mr and Mrs Pugh from the Village Stores. They’re your generation. You’ll like them’.

‘And Suzy? Will she be joining us?’

‘Eventually. If we can ever get her head out of the clouds. Now, do you want a cuppa first or a bath? There’s loads of hot water.’

They opted for tea. Maddy waltzed out into the kitchen and filled the kettle. There was something missing. Something … There was no mouth-watering aroma. With a scream she lifted the lid on the slow-cooker.

She’d forgotten to switch it on.

Determined not to panic, at least audibly, she gnawed her fingers. If she hooked the carrots, onions, and celery out of the pot and rinsed them off they could bulk out the crudités. The apple pie was safely in the larder. She wondered if Caroline Fitzgerald had ever been invited to a Jersey society supper where they’d skipped the main course. She somehow doubted it. It was just after six. She had two hours to stage a salvage attempt.

Carrying her parents’ tea through to the sitting room, her brain was working overtime. Mr and Mrs Beckett were watching a slow-motion replay of Suzy’s race on the video and didn’t look up.

‘Mum …’

‘Yes, love.’

‘Mum, those pasties you used to make … How long do they take to cook?’

Scooping the braising steak and vegetables from their icy grey gravy in the slow-cooker, and cubing them with manic determination, Maddy watched the clock. She’d slapped together a mountain of haphazard pastry which was now sitting in the fridge, and defrosted two loaves of bread in the microwave. She certainly didn’t have time to peel potatoes. Fat pasties and chunks of bread … She’d pass it off as peasant fare. Caroline was practically foreign – she’d never know the difference. If she even turned up.

‘Can I give you a hand, love?’

‘No!’ Maddy shrieked at her mother. ‘Er – no, thanks. Why don’t you and Dad go through and have your bath and get ready. I’ve got everything under control here.’

Mrs Beckett cast a professional eye around the kitchen’s devastation but wisely made no comment.

‘All right then, if you’re sure.’ She suddenly kissed Maddy’s cheek. ‘Well done, Maddy, love. It’s lovely to see you doing well. Making such a success of your business. And looking so good on it, too.’

Maddy could have cried with pleasure.

The dining room looked passable enough in daylight, and by the time they sat down at around nineish the curtains would be closed and the candles flickering. It would soften the edges. As her only tablecloth was grubby, Maddy had covered it with a square of net curtain and was very pleased with the effect. She had dragged chairs across from the bedrooms to seat her parents, and although it looked a bit crowded, she hoped that they’d all manage to eat without stabbing each other.