“And in the meantime, I think I might rescue Dev from the billiards room and see if he wants to get jiggy with me.”

“Well, in that case, I might see if the gardener will let me peep through his telescope.”

“Is that a euphemism?”

“Nope.”

“Do you think Jenna will be pissed with us if we desert her?” Ameerah asked.

“I think Jenna will join Pippa in slaying the boys at pool. She won’t miss us.”

In another twenty minutes, Nory had changed out of her evening dress and into jeans, boots, and an extra-thick jumper, and was knocking on Isaac’s front door. It was just after 10:00 p.m., and Nory had wondered if it was maybe too late to call on him, but when she had stepped out from the trees, she had seen his lights were on and there was still smoke curling out of the chimney.

She could hear Lettuce snuffling at the door, but the old lurcher hadn’t bothered to bark. Nory reasoned that she probably wasn’t a great guard dog. The porch light flicked on as Isaac opened the door.

“Hello,” she said, smiling hopefully. “Is your telescope available?”

Isaac cocked his head to one side, amused. “You’re lucky,” he said, stepping aside to let her through. “I was just about to close it down for the night.”

Lettuce kept close to Nory’s side, pushing her nose into Nory’s palm.

“Have you had many customers this evening?” she asked.

“It’s been steady,” Isaac replied with a completely straight face. “I am known to have the best telescope in the village, so demand for my services tends to be high.”

“I can well imagine.”

“Would you like a drink before stargazing?”

“That would be lovely, thank you.”

“I don’t have much in the way of alcohol, I’m afraid, but I can offer you a beer or a brandy.”

“Could I be terribly boring and ask for a cup of tea?”

“Tea is not in the least bit boring,” said Isaac, smiling. “English breakfast, Earl Grey, green, rose, or peppermint?”

“Gosh, I didn’t expect such a choice.”

“My mum was a big tea fan; she swore by its health benefits. It didn’t help her very much.”

“I don’t really remember seeing your mum often. Not as much as your dad anyway.”

“My mum had MS. By the time I was in my teens, she wasn’t getting out so much. She died when I was in my second year of uni.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Isaac shrugged.

“So, what’ll it be?” he asked.

“Um, peppermint, please. I think the chef is trying to induce gout in our party. I could do with something settling.”

“Peppermint it is,” he said, pulling out the box and filling the kettle.