‘Yeah, at Brighton. He can fly back. Emilio won’t mind.’

Emilio Marquez was Luke’s trainer. Burstingly proud of his stable jockey, he allowed Luke to get away with murder.

‘OK.’ Maddy disappeared into the bathroom. ‘But if Luke doesn’t make it tonight, we’ll know what happened, won’t we? You’ll have to start looking for bits of him along the Surrey border;’

She managed to close the door just before Suzy hurled the hairdryer at it. At least if Luke didn’t turn up he’d have death as an excuse. Drew would only have his wife.

It was such a glorious evening that Maddy decided to walk to Kimberley’s. She fell into step with the Pughs just at the corner of the main road where it lurched unsteadily towards the gurgling stream.

‘Any joy with Diana and Gareth?’ Bronwyn strode so briskly that Maddy had to jog to keep up. ‘Have you mentioned it to them? About Goddards Spinney?’

‘No. There hasn’t been the opportunity yet.’ She blushed. ‘How about you with the Maynards?’

‘Old Bert Maynard is digging his toes in,’ Bronwyn growled. ‘Silly old sod. They’ve offered him a six-figure sum for the orchard. And of course, now we’re only supposed to be buying French apples, his profits have been practically nothing for the last two years. You can’t blame him, I suppose. Mind, his sons aren’t so sure. They want to keep the orchard as it’s their inheritance, and grow English apples for an English market. For once, the younger generation seems to have more sense than the older one.’

‘Bert’s the one we’ve got to persuade, though.’ Bernie trotted on the other side of Maddy, surreptitiously glancing at her cleavage. She’d ransacked her wardrobe and found a pale blue top that tied at the waist. She’d worn it with the baggy black trousers. It had the same uplifting effect as a Wonderbra. ‘The Maynard boys say they’ll come along to the next meeting. I hope we haven’t started a family feud.’

‘I hope we have.’ Bronwyn’s voice was fervent. ‘I can see it all slipping away from us. Maybe you could speak to Diana tonight, Maddy.’

‘She won’t be there, will she?’ Maddy was horrified. It hadn’t occurred to her that Diana would attend anything quite so ‘council estate’ as a barbecue.

‘Oh, she’s bound to be. She’s got Mitchell D’Thing as a house guest, so the grapevine says. Brought him back from Newmarket last night. She’ll have to find some way of entertaining him.’

Oh, God, Maddy thought, having a sudden vision of the form of entertainment Diana would provide. Maybe she’d stay at home with Mitchell D’Arcy and send Gareth to the barbecue alone.