‘Well …’ Maddy spent ages straightening the bicycle’s handlebars. Her hands were shaking. ‘I’ve only got a few minutes. One of Kat’s children is ill, and I’m covering for her this afternoon, and I really –’

‘And you’ve come home for lunch. My coffee pot is on and I’ve got a cupboard full of Mars bars.’

She looked at him and laughed. She couldn’t resist him.

They hurried across the road, the rain lashing in a relentless drive from the misty downs. This wasn’t how she’d planned it, Maddy thought, as she squelched through the puddles. In her Drew Fitzgerald fantasies it was all sunshine and roses, and she would look ravishing in something floaty and ethereal.

After the dinner party Caroline had slipped an expensive card of thanks through the letter box. Maddy had put it on the mantelshelf alongside Bronwyn’s Waverley notelet of kittens and wool, and Richard’s Far Side apology.

‘Kimberley says that Caroline has gone.’ She kicked off her boots in the porch and left her Oxfam jacket in a sodden heap on the floor. ‘I meant to ring her, after she’d left the card …’

Drew held the door open for her and she took a deep breath before stepping inside Peapods.

‘Oh!’ She looked around with pleasure. ‘It’s lovely, Drew. I never imagined it could look like this.’

On the rare occasions she’d visited Peapods in its previous incarnation as the Knightley Health Studio, it had been a mass of glass and chrome, of mirrors and lights and vivid blue paintwork. Now it had been lovingly restored to a Victorian farmhouse.

‘It didn’t take long.’ Drew led the way through to the kitchen. ‘Peter hadn’t destroyed any of the original structure, merely covered it. It was more a case of stripping away the facade and returning the rooms to their original purpose.’

‘And did you bring all this with you?’ Maddy indicated the elm dressers, the walnut chiffonier, the oak tables, and the masses of watercolours which adorned the walls. ‘From Jersey?’

‘Most of it. This all belonged to my parents. Caroline didn’t like it anyway. She prefers more modern furniture. She was glad to see the back of it. Take a seat.’

But Maddy was far too impressed with the kitchen to sit down. She always lusted after people’s kitchens, hers being so peculiar. It was cosy with its wood-burning stove, its stripped pine table with huge carvers, and a mass of old French cooking utensils hanging from hooks and beams.

‘All for show.’ Drew poured two mugs of coffee. ‘I defrost in the microwave and eat from a tray in front of the TV. I can never raise any enthusiasm in cooking for one. Sugar?’

‘Two – er, one, please.’

He heaped two spoonfuls into the mug, added cream, and stirred it for her. She sat down to drink her coffee and watched him as he stacked several items of dirty crockery into the dishwasher. There was something endearingly sexy about a man being so at home with domesticity. A shiver of awareness prickled her spine.