‘Thanks.’ Kate pauses. ‘Rob hasn’t got a yacht, you know that. But I’ll buy you fish and chips. I told him I was going to call you, see if you’d like to come down here for a few days.’

‘Is that what you’d like? For me to come down?’

‘He’ll pay for your ticket.’ Rob always offers.

‘I’ll buy my own, thanks.’ And Bex always refuses.

‘Seriously, it would be nice if you could come,’ Kate says.

Bex is currently single, a rare state of affairs. She’s not a stunner, but she does a lot with what she’s got. Kate’s seen how men notice her, the way she moves. She’s also thirty-three, like Kate, with no sign of children. Something else they have in common.

‘Actually, I could do with getting out the village,’ Bex says. ‘Might find myself a tasty Poldark, you never know. I’ll see what the trains are doing.’

‘Call me as soon as you see him?’ Kate says, much happier now.

‘How will I know what I’m looking for,’ Bex says, ‘if he, well, seems the same?’

‘You’ll know. Trust me.’

7

Kate

It feels good to be back in the village after dropping Rob off at Truro. She was held up for ages driving through the narrow Cornish lanes – Saturday is changeover day for many of the local holiday lets – and to cheer herself up she pulled in at her favourite bakery and bought a cinnamon bun, an object of swirling, sugar-dusted beauty. She licks the last of it from her lips as she turns into the drive. To her horror, Dr Varma is already there, waiting by the front door. She should have come straight home.

‘I’m so sorry, Ajay,’ Kate says, showing him through the front door. She’s called him Ajay since their first session, at his request. Rob still uses his formal title. ‘I didn’t realise the time.’

‘It’s quite alright.’ Ajay smiles at her as he walks through to the kitchen and sits down at the table. ‘I was early anyway.’

Kate knows he’s lying. She never used to be late for anything, hated it when Jake was not on time.

‘Thanks so much for coming,’ she says. ‘Rob tells me you were down for the weekend.’

Ajay smiles benignly. She’s talking too much, not used to seeing him in anything other than a suit. This afternoon he’s wearing chinos, a polo shirt and deck shoes. The only clue he’s here for work is his familiar black attaché case.

‘Can I get you anything?’ she asks, hovering by the sink. ‘Tea? Something stronger?’

‘All good.’

She can tell Ajay wants to get down to business. She sits opposite him and tries to relax.

‘Rob says you’ve been feeling a bit unwell,’ he continues. ‘Maybe a migraine.’