‘Right!’ he went on, once Anne and Veronica had been shown back to their accommodation and supplied with tea and whisky. ‘Let’s go back to yours and have a glass of wine. I’ve been saving myself. I want a full update. Didn’t you pack just a bit too much in to the literary festival, Laura?’

‘Mm. We did,’ she admitted as they set off towards her cottage. ‘The thing was we didn’t realise how everyone would leap at the chance of having an author, or a writing competition, or even a “Stitch and Bitch with Books” event so avidly.’

‘So, what’s a “Stitch and Bitch with Books” then?’ asked Grant.

‘It’s like a Stitch and Bitch, when women get together and—’

‘It’s all right, I worked that out.’

‘Well, in this instance, someone reads aloud, so there’s no bitching really, and everyone knits squares for a blanket. It’s happening on Monday morning. Fenella’s providing the cake.’

‘Come on you two, never mind Stitch and Bitch,’ said Monica. ‘I’m going to the event early with Seamus to help with the sound check and things. We need to hurry.’

Upping the pace a bit, Laura said, ‘What’s your b. and b. like, Grant?’

‘Lovely, but a bit bucolic. There are cows right outside my window.’

‘What do you expect in the country?’ asked Monica.

But Grant forgot his objections to rural life when he saw where Laura and Monica were staying. This was the first time he’d been over. ‘Oh, this is charming,’ he said. ‘Really nicely done.’

‘It is, isn’t it?’ Laura agreed, retrieving a bottle of wine from the fridge. ‘You go first in the shower, Monica. You’re in a hurry.’

‘Only the same hurry you’re in,’ said Monica, pausing en route, looking at her friend suspiciously.

‘I don’t have to go early like you do.’

Monica gave her a beady glance.

Laura inspected her nails. ‘I may not go tonight. I need to plan my questions for tomorrow.’

‘You can’t not go to Dermot’s event,’ Monica protested. ‘He’d be so upset.’

‘No he wouldn’t be!’ Laura was equally adamant. ‘He wouldn’t care at all, if he even noticed.’

‘But, Laura!’ Grant was appalled. ‘You can’t miss it! You’ve loved his work since you were a baby—’

‘Not quite a baby,’ she protested quietly.

‘You can’t miss hearing him read,’ Grant went on. ‘You’d never forgive yourself.’

After being stared at by two indignant friends for several seconds, Laura sighed. ‘I suppose you’re right, Grant. I’ve heard enough lesser writers read their stuff. It would be silly to miss the best.’

‘Let’s get out the wine,’ said Grant.

‘Monica can’t have a drink if she’s driving,’ said Laura, feeling bullied and wanting revenge.