Later in the afternoon, Christopher was still sitting on the seat under the big beech tree when Louisa came out of the house looking for him. He was busily scribbling in a notebook, but she decided it would be a perfect moment to have a talk with him while he was alone, and possibly tell him what she’d heard from Adam.

‘Just the person I wanted to see,’ she said coming up behind him.

‘Oh, hello Louisa,’ he said, obviously pleased to see her. ‘How are you doing – do you want to sit down?’

‘Umm. Why not? It’s so lovely out here. You look mighty industrious – I hope I’m not interrupting.’

He screwed the top on his pen, put it in his pocket and closed the notebook. Louisa would have loved to see what he’d written.

‘If you are, then I’m delighted to be interrupted! I had a poem torn over by Catherine earlier this afternoon and now I can’t stop tinkering with it and think I’m making it even worse.’

He wondered what scent Louisa used – something fresh and delightful, so that her fragrance always lingered faintly after she had been in a room.

‘You’re taking the writing really seriously, aren’t you?’ she asked, sitting down beside him. ‘Now that odious old Stanley has buggered off, I get the feeling that you and Win are the only two of us who really mean to continue with it after this week is over. It’s fun; it’s interesting; we’re all learning unexpected things about ourselves, but none of the rest of us is really good enough to take it any further.’

‘I don’t think it’s a question of anyone being better than anyone else. I think it’s more about whether any of us really want to try to get published and make a career out of it.’

‘And you do?’

‘Yes,’ he said emphatically, wondering if he would have had the courage to admit this without Catherine’s earlier encouragement. ‘Yes, I really do. I was a bit dubious about coming here, but I’m so glad I did. I think Catherine’s an outstanding teacher and it’s a marvellous place.’

She hesitated a moment and then said: ‘I’ve just been talking to Adam. He sent his regards to you.’

‘Then do give him mine when you next speak to him,’ he said, guessing what this must be leading up to and on the whole feeling relieved. He gave her a not unamused look. ‘And what did Adam tell you about me?’ he asked.

‘He was telling me about your recent troubles. I am so sorry.’

‘Ah,’ he said lightly, raising an eyebrow at her. ‘I thought someone had been spreading the glad tidings about me, but I didn’t know it was you. I thought it was Marnie.’