Nory’s mum took the proffered box of Prestat chocolates and wisely shut them away in a drawer. It was pointless to buy flowers as a gift for a woman who grows flowers for a living. The house was always full of floral cast-offs dotted about in jugs and vases, but a box of chocolates from Prestat always did the trick, especially since her mum knew Ameerah would buy them from the actual shop in Piccadilly.

“Work’s good, thanks,” said Ameerah, taking a seat at the table.

“Are you seeing anyone special at the moment?” The work question was always her mum’s opener to bring her round to the question that she really wanted to ask.

“You know me, Sasha,” Ameerah said, smiling. “My work is the love of my life.”

Nory’s mum looked somewhere between proud and disappointed. “You can’t live on work alone, love. Honestly, you and Nory, like peas in a pod. No wonder you get on so well. But what about the handsome model you’ve brought down with you?”

Ameerah shot Nory a look, but Nory shrugged. “It wasn’t me! I didn’t tell her.”

“Oh, my goodness, if I waited for Nory to tell me anything, I’d be waiting forever. The village is on fire with gossip about your house party. What with Jenna being a homegrown TV star—she won a national award for most-loved TV vet in the summer, did you know that? And then there’s your model.”

“He’s not my model,” Ameerah interjected, but she was instantly overruled by Sasha, who simply continued as though she hadn’t spoken.

“Jilly at the newsagent recognized him first, when she was up at the castle delivering the papers, because of course she gets all the glossy magazines into the shop, you see, so she knew right away. And once she knew, everyone knew! Have you done something different to your hair?”

Ameerah shook her head, nonplussed.

Sasha scrutinized Ameerah’s face and then slapped her hand on her thigh. “I know what it is,” she declared triumphantly. “You’re in love!”

Ameerah burst out a laugh. “I don’t think I am.”

“I know that look. Do you remember what she was like over that boy, Nory, oh what was his name? He spent that summer working at the farm, the year you had your arm in a plaster cast after you came off that ladder.”

Nory was laughing too now. Ameerah squirmed and protested.

“Peter Leech,” said Nory, watching delightedly as Ameerah buried her face in her arms.

“Peter Leech! That’s it. Ran away with the carnival when it left. Old Dorian up at Pine Farm said right from the word go he wasn’t suited to farm life; he was on work experience from a college up near Dewsbury. You were dotty for him, Ameerah. Soppy as a flannel on washday.”