‘Jesus! Where did you come from?’ Barty Small nearly tumbled into the fruit punch and gin cauldron in surprise as Maddy emerged from the herbaceous border behind him. ‘Not trying to queue-jump, are you?’

She shook her head. ‘I had no idea that Kimberley’s garden was like a maze. Did you know that there are little paths through all the flower beds?’

‘Old Mrs Weston, Kimberley’s mother, had them put in.’ Barty ladled out a dozen rum punches into a selection of Tom and Jerry beakers held out by Diana’s stable lads. ‘She was a right old devil. She used to use one lot of paths to ferry her lovers into the house, and the other lot to avoid her creditors.’ He turned back to the bemused youngsters in front of him. ‘There you are, lads. That’ll make you big and strong. Although you don’t want to be too big, do you, else you’ll be out of a job.’

He roared with laughter at his own wit, and the crowd around the table tittered with him. He must have been helping himself liberally all evening. Maddy thought, as she accepted a refill. The punch was very strong. Another mugful and she might just be able to take on Diana …

She wandered back towards the main lawn by the conventional route. It was a truly glorious evening, with not a breath of wind, and a still-strong sun shining low in the west. The mingled scent of food and flowers was now a voluptuous assault on the senses. It seemed as if the whole of Milton St John was partying on Kimberley’s lawn. Maddy sipped the punch through a tidal wave of fruit salad. Was she brave enough – or, come to that, nasty enough – to blackmail Diana over the golf course? Could she really use her knowledge of her affair with Peter to persuade her to change her mind? Could she do anything at all without hurting Gareth? She wished Drew was here. Drew would know what to do.

‘Maddy!’ Fran forced her way through a munching bunch of burger-eaters. ‘I’ve been looking for you everywhere. You haven’t seen Richard yet, have you?’ Maddy shook her head. Fran was grinning. ‘I went into the bookie’s to watch the last race at Lingfield on SIS. Richard won! It was brilliant.’

‘Richard often wins races.’

‘Yes, but, he beat Luke Delaney in a photo finish. You could almost see them snarling at each other. Thank God there’s going to be at least a hundred miles between them tonight. Maddy, what’s up?’

‘Luke was going to beg a ride in the helicopter tonight.’

‘The same helicopter that Richard …?’

‘He probably didn’t,’ Maddy said hopefully. ‘If the atmosphere was that bad between them he wouldn’t risk it, would he?’

‘Christ knows. What’s the penalty for a punch-up in a helicopter?’

‘Death, probably.’

‘Cheers.’