‘God knows.’ Maddy took the note from Drew and scrumpled it into a ball. ‘He probably wants as many people on his side as possible. He’ll probably try the “for old times’ sake” routine again.’

‘So, will you contact him?’ Drew picked up his coffee.

‘No chance. I’m firmly on the side of Bronwyn and Bernie.’

‘And Peanut.’

Suzy shook her head. ‘You’re both as crazy as each other. It must be senile dementia. Who the hell is Peanut?’

‘Fran fancied him.’

‘No she didn’t,’ Drew corrected. ‘Fran fancied Sandra.’

‘Jesus!’ Suzy swung round in the doorway, displaying fingertip bruises polka-dotting her thigh. ‘I’m going to bed, and if I have nightmares it’ll be your fault.’

They sat grinning at each other while Suzy thundered around in the bathroom, then Drew picked up the discarded note. ‘You really don’t want to talk to him?’

‘Of course not. It’s typical of Peter to approach me like this. He thinks he can charm me like he used to. But he can’t. I don’t see what sort of influence I can wield, anyway. If he’s got the might of Diana and Gareth, why the hell does he need me?’

‘Because the village likes you.’ Drew studied her face. ‘Because they listen to you. You’re far more part of them than the James-Jordans are. If you said that the golf course was a good idea they’d listen.’

‘Oh, rubbish. No one listens to me.’

‘Don’t underestimate yourself, Maddy. Because you’re kind and friendly and you listen to people, they listen back. Peter knows that probably better than most. He’s not stupid. He knows that you could be very important.’

Drew stood up. ‘I’d better go now. The alarm’ll go off at five and it’s getting fed up with being bounced off the walls. Anyway, this was part of the arrangement, wasn’t it? Coffee and separate beds?’

She walked the few paces across the hall with him. Not, she told herself, to be able to cling to him romantically in the doorway, but she had to be there to free the hall rug.

Suzy’s bedroom light was on. Michael Bolton had replaced AC/DC. Suzy was seriously in love.

‘So?’ He turned to her. ‘You survived an evening in my company without the village tattooing “harlot” across your forehead. Congratulations.’

‘I’ve enjoyed it. Very much.’ She stared up into the wide, tawny eyes. ‘Good night, Drew.’

‘Good night, Maddy.’

He kissed her demurely on the cheek, and turning the flying jacket’s collar up against the gusting wind, hurried to the Mercedes. Maddy watched until the tail lights had been swallowed up by Peapods’ drive, then dreamily closed the door.