‘The man in the next cottage looks after it for me,’ Zak said as he came outside too, as if reading her thoughts. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without him. His wife airs the place and makes up the beds when I’m coming here too. All I have to do is phone them in advance.’

The garden was well stocked with pretty flower borders. By the conservatory was a small patio which held two chairs. There was a shed near the bottom which looked as if it had been newly painted in a soft green colour. In the field beyond, a few sheep wandered aimlessly, plucking at the grass. Birds tweeted happily.

‘Idyllic,’ Lauren said, hugging herself.

‘Think this will give you some space to breathe?’

‘It was a wonderful idea to come up here. Thank you.’

‘It’s nice to have company. You can’t really have a romantic weekend here on your own.’ Then Zak tutted at himself. ‘Not that I’m suggesting . . . that wasn’t why I brought you here . . . Oh damn – you know what I mean.’

‘Yes,’ Lauren laughed. ‘I do.’

‘There are two bedrooms and a small bathroom upstairs,’ Zak told her. ‘I’ll put your bag in the front room.’

‘That sounds great.’

‘You might not think so come Sunday morning. I warn you now that the vicar does like to ring the church bells very early.’

‘Clearly has no consideration for the stressed townies up here for some R and R.’

‘Strange country folk with their strange country ways.’ Zak laughed. ‘You settle yourself in. When I’ve whipped the bags upstairs, then I’ll make us some tea.’

As he disappeared inside again, Lauren lowered herself into one of the garden chairs with a contented sigh. This was the life. Being here was like being in another world. The sun was warm, but not too hot, a gentle breeze taking the edge from it.

She switched on her mobile phone. Missed calls – twenty-two. All from Jude. Lauren switched it off again. And that, she thought, would be the very last time she looked at her phone while she was here.

Chapter 89

Chapter 89

Ellen has split up with her boyfriend. As far as I know, she hasn’t cried. She doesn’t seem overly bothered at all, even though she’s been with him for a long time. Another product of the easy-come, easy-go society.

Instead, she seems to be hell-bent on finding another boyfriend. Tonight.

‘You can’t go out looking like that,’ I gasp, horrified.

As well as being horrified at Ellen’s outfit, I’m also horrified that I’m saying the same thing to her that my mother used to say to me – the same thing that I vowed never to say to my daughter.

‘Shut up, Mum.’ Even now, at the ripe old age of twenty, Ellen sometimes reverts to the stroppy fourteen year old she used to be.