An ambulance was at the entrance with its rear doors open: nothing unusual, and yet she shuddered in the sunshine. “Transfer to Harefield Hospital, love. I’ll bet it’s you we’re waiting for.” He smiled at her kindly, as though holding the reins of Pegasus who would fly her to the moon. She tried to return his enthusiasm, but she suddenly felt very small and alone, and not in the least romantic about the course that lay ahead. The line at her mouth was thin. The great front doors swallowed her.

THE PHENE ARMS WAS HEAVING WITH PEOPLE STARTING THEIR EASY weekend a few hours early, wanting food, so Simon went through to the garden to look for more space. The weather had dissuaded most of the patrons, but he checked a bench with his hand to see how wet it was, then chose a touch-dry table that had been fairly sheltered under a tree. He sipped his beer, and scribbled off a postcard with a Union Jack on it: “Welcome back. You must have noticed the lines from Midsummer Night’s Dream? But what does it mean…? Is there a secret garden with a key into a wall…?” He hadn’t had time to complete what he wanted to write when a tall, slender figure wearing a white trench coat over fitted designer jeans appeared through the doorway. He pocketed the card secretively.

“You’re such a Spartan, Simon.” Siân folded her coat and put it on the seat to combat the damp.

“Good to see you, hottie.” Somewhat self-consciously he used the name he always called her by to try to maintain a friendly tone without it being mistaken for any hint of flirtation, to settle his mild anxiety about meeting a mate’s very sexy “ex” for lunch. Her signature scent was like a room full of exotic lilies and jasmine, and she oozed sensuality. He did feel a bit guilty. “You look like a danger to the parish today. What’s been happening?”

“Work’s been totally manic; loads of jobs. After so long away from the action, it’s a good feeling to hit a period of frenzy. I’ve been through a lot, but at least my bank balance is looking healthy again. Everyone I’ve ever worked for seems to have called, which is great. I got a few days in the Seychelles styling a commercial last week—took my mind off things entirely.”

Simon was a gritty, hard-news journalist, and though he traveled often for work, he never got assignments that took him to exotic A-list locations like the Seychelles. “I’m sure you went under sufferance?” he asked her with exaggerated irony.