‘No kippers, thank you. But I’ll have everything except black pudding,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’

‘Black pudding is full of iron you know, darling,’ said Eleanora, ‘but I’m glad to see you’ve got an appetite. You look a bit peaky.’

The appetite vanished. Why did Eleanora say that? Why was she surprised, or commenting on her appetite? She must stop being paranoid.

Laura reached for some toast. ‘Well, you know how it is, I didn’t eat much last night.’ She took a breath. ‘Dermot not up yet?’

‘Oh no!’ Eleanora was suddenly bursting with good humour and news. ‘I forgot you didn’t know. He went off to London last night so he can do breakfast telly today.’

‘But I thought he was having a late dinner with Jacob Stone?’

‘He did, and then the two of them went off to London in Jacob’s helicopter,’ said Fenella. ‘We’ve recorded the show,’ she went on. ‘It was on horribly early. But I think he’s doing another couple of shows, isn’t he, Aunt – I mean, Eleanora?’

‘Loose Women,’ said Eleanora. ‘Excellent programme.’

Laura, feeling bewildered, looked round the table for clarification.

Sarah, who had closed her notebook and was now gathering plates in the corner, helped her out. ‘It’s a lunchtime show where a group of women discuss current affairs, and gossip.’

‘It sounds right up Dermot’s street,’ said Laura, just as Rupert put a sizzling plate down in front of her. ‘Oh, that looks delicious!’

Reg got up, taking his plate with him. ‘It was. Now if you don’t mind, I’ve got things to do.’

Now that Reg had left, it seemed that everyone else apart from Laura had had their cooked breakfast and were now just reading the papers, eating toast and drinking coffee.

Everyone was behaving so naturally she didn’t need to pretend to be her usual cheery self. And with Dermot out of the county there was no danger of her bumping into him and being forced to see the concern on his face all over again.

Fenella came and sat down next to her. ‘So it’s just Damien Stubbs’s event tonight, and then we’ve done the big stars. The event is sold out and that man from The Times is arriving at lunchtime. Plenty of time for Damien to miss his train and get the next one.’

‘You’re not very confident of Damien’s time-keeping,’ said Veronica, having put down the paper. ‘It’s the trains I worry about, which is why Anne and I came by car. Fortunately we live quite near to each other.’

‘What time –?’ Fenella stopped, belatedly aware that it wasn’t polite to ask when people were leaving.

‘In about half an hour,’ said Veronica reassuringly. ‘The car’s packed already and Anne’s just taking some photos of your lovely wild garden.’