‘Not to overwork it,’ suggested Alan.

‘Yes.’

‘And keep the fat as cool as possible,’ said Meredith.

‘Excellent.’ Adrienne gave a quick explanation as to why and then they were on their own.

Hannah read the recipe. She’d made pastry once in domestic science class at secondary school in Year 8, which was a million years ago.

She watched as Meredith chopped her block of butter into chunks then slid them into the bowl of flour she’d already weighed. Hannah, keeping a wary eye on the others, copied Meredith and plonked the butter into the flour, letting loose a cloud that almost choked her. She had to blink furiously to get it out of her eyes. She saw Fliss roll her eyes.

Hannah began to rub the cool flour into the butter and found herself thinking of other things, wondering why the man with the shotgun had been so irate when it turned out it wasn’t his land at all. There was something odd about his complete overreaction, even if she had been trespassing. Surely it hadn’t warranted that much anger. There was definitely more going on between the two families than she realised. Maybe she should have asked Conor. With a sigh she remembered how kind he’d been the night before. Which was a mistake because now she couldn’t stop the memories sneaking through her mind. His body over hers, those kisses. And, heaven help her, her response to him. Stop, she told herself. She had to stop. Just because it had been the best sex ever didn’t mean anything. Yes, she fancied him. And even more so when he’d been so kind last night, but he’d made it quite clear that he didn’t want anything more to do with her. He didn’t get involved with guests. Besides, Hannah told herself, men like Conor Byrne didn’t date the likes of her – guest or not.

‘Hannah,’ Adrienne’s voice beside her interrupted her thoughts. ‘You’re giving that butter a thorough workout. You need to be gentler with it. Treat it like a lover.’

Hannah blushed. Her last lover had been Adrienne’s son. God, it would be so embarrassing if that came out. What would Adrienne think of her?

‘It should look like fine breadcrumbs.’

She looked down at the mangled butter and grimaced. ‘Sorry. I wasn’t concentrating.’

Adrienne’s expression was a touch sorrowful. ‘Love. It needs love.’

Hannah winced. It hadn’t been love she’d been thinking about at all. Following the recipe, she added the water and mixed it to a rather lumpy dough and left it to cool in the fridge while they all crowded around Adrienne to watch her roll out, line, and trim her pastry to fit a pie dish. Hannah watched her skilful, deft movements, knowing that her pie was never going to look like that in a million years.