‘Hi. I’m Mitchell D’Arcy. Saratoga Sun’s owner – or perhaps you know that. Are you staff?’

‘I’m, er, the cleaner …’ Maddy gasped, shaking the out- stretched hand. ‘Maddy Beckett.’

Mitchell D’Arcy lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. Maddy prayed it didn’t smell of sick.

‘Nice to meet you. Is Di at home?’

‘No … yes … I’m not sure. Was she expecting you?’

‘No.’ Mitchell D’Arcy smiled a smile that was the epitome of cosmetic dentistry. ‘I was supposed to be in Newmarket. I think I might come as a bit of a shock.’

‘Oh, a pleasant one, I’m sure.’ Maddy wondered how many shocks Diana could take in one afternoon. ‘If she was in, that is … which she isn’t, I don’t think.’

Mitchell D’Arcy nodded. He was very dashing, in a gangsterish sort of way. Little bits of him glinted in the sunlight: the exceptionally white teeth, the heavy gold ornaments on his tie and cuffs, the chunky bracelets on each wrist.

Maddy backed away. ‘I’ll be on my way, then.’

‘Tell you what, poppet …’ Mitchell D’Arcy had the mid- Atlantic voice of a disc jockey. ‘You couldn’t just run and check her out for me, could you? I’m on a bit of a tight schedule, and if she’s not at home I won’t hang around.’

‘Um – well, Gareth’s in the village,’ Maddy gulped. ‘If you wanted to discuss Saratoga, that is. I’m sure he won’t be long.’

Mitchell D’Arcy shook his head, grinning dazzlingly. ‘No, I don’t want to see Gareth, Marnie, poppet.’

‘Maddy.’ She was feeling truculent now. ‘I’ll just go and see if Di, er, Diana’s upstairs, shall I?’

‘Yeah, sure. I’ll wait here.’

Maddy walked slowly up the stairs, hoping that Diana and Peter had got their clothes sorted out by this time. They met halfway along the minstrels’ gallery.

‘Get out,’ Diana snarled. ‘Stop prowling around my house. Just go home. Now!’

Peter grinned sheepishly.

‘Mitchell D’Arcy’s downstairs.’ Maddy looked at Diana’s feet. The riding boots had been replaced by a pair of pale kidskin Adriano Rizzos. ‘He thinks I’m staff. He sent me to find you.’

‘Jesus Christ!’ Diana fluffed at her hair. ‘What did you tell him?’

‘Nothing of course. What do you want me to tell him?’

‘Nothing.’ Diana’s lips were snapping open and shut like a frenzied gin trap. ‘I’ll see him.’

Maddy turned tail and trooped downstairs again with Diana and Peter behind her. Mitchell D’Arcy was looking very Rhett Butlerish leaning on the newel post.

‘Here she is!’ Maddy said brightly, sounding like Joyce Grenfell. ‘She was here all the time!’

‘Di – angel!’ Mitchell D’Arcy pulled Diana against his Jean-Paul Gaultier jacket. ‘I thought I’d missed you.’