Now Neil embraced her, then stepped back, a wide grin on his face. ‘Very Scott-of-the-Antarctic, darling … and I’m sure you had a gun to your head when you put those on.’ His nose wrinkled as he noticed her boots.

In fact, her feet were stewing in them. The car had been hot and she felt her toes throbbing now. She longed to wrench the ridiculous things off.

Neil gave Devan a hug, too, and led them through the elegant 1930s art-deco house – flat roof, parquet floors, curved windows and a gorgeous timber staircase – to the wide terrace behind. About twenty-five people were there, many faces she recognized in the glow from the lanterns lining the low stucco wall and the huge bonfire that burned merrily at the bottom of the steps leading down to the garden.

Brooks, in a sleek, padded navy jacket and tartan scarf knotted European-style round his neck, was standing at a king-size barbecue, wielding tongs and holding forth to a group of friends clutching beers. On one end of the barbecue there was a capacious preserving pan and ladle, steaming with Neil’s mulled wine. At the other, sausages and spicy lamb chops sizzled near skewers of prawn and vegetables, and crisping chicken wings. The pungent smell of roasting meat made Connie’s mouth water.

Neil handed her a glass of his infamous concoction. The wine felt pleasantly warm between her palms. Despite the heat from the bonfire, the barbecue and the press of people, the air was cruel, icy on her cheeks.

Devan gave her a nudge. ‘Not too bad so far!’ And he was right. The wine was going straight to her head, she was beginning to relax …

It was a while later when Neil grabbed her arm. Piled plate in hand, she turned. ‘Connie, I’m dying for you to meet Jed,’ he said, indicating the man by his side. ‘We bonded at the Raven’s book launch.’ She swallowed hard, coughed as if she might choke, her plate wobbling dangerously in her hand. The eyes that were staring directly into hers sparkled in the candlelight. ‘He’s a kitchen designer and he’s just moved into your village.’ His last words were almost lost in the heavy pulsing of blood in her ears.

Dizzily, she managed a weak ‘Hello,’ shrugging at Jared’s outstretched hand, as she indicated her own, clamped firmly round her plate and fork.

‘Hi, Connie,’ ‘Jed’ replied, smiling that intimate smile of his.

Her stomach lurched. Devan was beside her, but with his back to them, talking to a man she didn’t know.

‘We had such a laugh,’ Neil was saying. ‘Jed had the exact same experience as me with our esteemed employer, didn’t you, Jed?’