‘Well, I think you’re amazing, Izzy. I really don’t know how you cope with the drama about Rory as well as everything going on here.’ Louisa got up. ‘Back to school now. I’d better do my homework. We’re all supposed to write a piece about a journey. ’Bye for now, then . . . I’ll keep you informed about all your interesting guests. Regard me as your personal undercover agent!’

‘Undercover, my foot!’ said Isobel. ‘You’d never be any good at undercover anything. You’d always get noticed. Just heed my words of wisdom and don’t go stirring any pots.’

‘I’ll do my best!’ Louisa stuffed her writing paraphernalia into her capacious, soft leather bag – battered but expensive looking – swung it nonchalantly over her shoulder, blew Isobel a kiss and sauntered off across the courtyard, humming ‘I Know Where I’m Going’.

Isobel felt deeply sorry for Adam Winterton. Though she could see he didn’t ignite Louisa’s smouldering passions or fulfil her yearning for steamy romance, she thought it was unfair to call him dull. Whenever Isobel had met him – admittedly only a few times – she had found him an interesting and amusing conversationalist with a dry sense of humour, and liked him enormously.