Maddy closed her eyes. She couldn’t think of anything she wanted more. She sighed. ‘So what does Caroline actually do?’ They’d started to walk back towards the house.

Drew raised his eyebrows. ‘You mean she didn’t tell you? You were talking a lot at your party, I was sure she’d have mentioned it.’

Maddy shook her head. She wasn’t going to say that she and Caroline had been delving into the depths of the Fitzgeralds’ sex life – or rather, the shallows.

‘Caroline is the managing director of the De Courcey Vineyards.’

‘Heavens!’ Maddy was impressed. ‘That sounds very high powered.’

‘Oh, it’s a fairly small concern, but growing rapidly. A lot of farmers had to rethink their lives when the Channel Islands opted out of the EEC. They all had glass houses and only limited markets where they could sell their tomatoes and other produce. Some went into flowers – Caroline’s family went into grapes. It’s quite a tourist attraction and the wine is surprisingly drinkable. She’s doing very well. Oh, shit!’

Maddy followed his eyes and silently echoed his curse. Bronwyn Pugh, muffled against the elements, and looking for all the world like the Wicked Witch of the West, was pedalling furiously across Peapods’ cobbles.

‘I’m so glad I’ve caught you two together,’ she trilled, dismounting into a flurry of spray. ‘Just canvassing for tonight’s meeting. You’ll both be there, of course?’

Maddy nodded. Drew smiled politely. ‘Yes, of course. What time is it?’

‘Eight o’clock. Village hall,’ Bronwyn puffed. ‘We’ve got a lot of support. I’ve issued an invitation to Peter and Stacey and Stacey’s father but they haven’t replied.’

‘It’s probably better if they don’t turn up at the first meeting.’ Maddy wiped the rain from her face. ‘Perhaps we should sort out a few things without them.’

‘I’d rather they were there.’ Bronwyn bristled. ‘Let ’em know what they’re up against. Will you be giving, Maddy a lift, Drew?’

‘Oh, no. I, er …’ Maddy blushed. ‘I can walk if the rain stops, and if not I’ll take the car if Suzy’s home.’

‘There’s no point in clogging up the street with lots of cars, is there?’ Drew smiled winningly. ‘That’s a good idea, Bronwyn. Yes, I’ll pick Maddy up at about quarter to eight.’

Chapter Nine

The village hall was flatteringly full. A wide cross-section of Milton St John had squeezed itself into the stacking chairs, and were sitting, damply steaming, awaiting the main event. Maddy, beside Drew in the third row, gazed around in open astonishment. She hadn’t expected anything like this turn out, especially as all stables were gearing up for The Derby. It was a testament to Bronwyn’s organising powers that she had managed to prise so many away from their work.

Kimberley Weston and Barty Small were in the front row, with several other trainers. Diana and Gareth James-Jordan were not in evidence. Neither were Peter or Stacey.

‘They probably haven’t had this sort of turn out since the last public hanging,’ Drew whispered. ‘And some of them look as though they’ve been around ever since.’