‘Oh well, she’s back now. Would you like tea or coffee with your kedgeree?’ She was aware she was being rather clipped but it was all she could do not to break down, and she wasn’t going to do that in front of him. Also, a part of her felt angry – at him and at herself for being such a fool. She still couldn’t look at him.

‘Laura, what’s wrong? You skipped out of here without a care in the world and now you’re all edgy and anxious. What happened? Was anyone unkind to you in the shop?’

He sounded slightly bemused and just for a second she considered telling him what his beloved Bridget had said to her but then realised she couldn’t. Bridget was the old friend; she wasn’t. She couldn’t say, ‘Your old friend, the one you’re so fond of, has made me feel like a hooker and that you wouldn’t be needing my services now she’s home.’

‘Oh no, nothing like that.’ She stirred furiously. ‘It’s just I realised my flight is earlier than I thought it was. I have to go almost immediately.’

‘But we were going to have breakfast together. In bed, I thought.’

He was still maintaining the act. She managed a breezy laugh. ‘Oh no, I’m afraid not. In fact my taxi will be here at any moment.’

He scratched his head, frowning. ‘Have they changed the flight back to England then? It was always in the evening.’

‘Oh yes, they’ve changed it.’ She turned off the heat and dropped the wooden spoon. ‘I’ll just go upstairs and make sure I haven’t left anything.’

But she didn’t need to look to knew that she’d left two things she couldn’t retrieve: her virginity and her heart. Both were gone for ever.

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Unfortunately for Laura, they hadn’t changed the flight to England: she had a very long wait at the airport for it, which gave her plenty of time to realise that she’d given her all to a man who just wanted her at that moment, not for ever. He hadn’t tried to stop her, or ask her again if anything had happened; he’d just stood there, looking baffled, as if he couldn’t comprehend why she hadn’t fallen into his arms again, all ‘Aren’t you wonderful, Dermot’ and ‘Let me wait on you hand and foot, Dermot’. What’s more he obviously had a girlfriend, but being the sort of man he was, since she was away, he’d found a substitute. In other words, he was your classic – albeit charming – bastard. How long would it take her to get over him? Knowing he was a bastard wouldn’t necessarily make it any quicker.