‘Yes,’ she nodded. ‘Sam was determined the cottage was coming off the holiday market. Whatever did you say to make him change his mind?’

‘Nothing really,’ I told her, my cheeks starting to burn. ‘I didn’t say anything.’

‘And now he’s letting you help out at the pub too . . .’

I hoped she didn’t think I’d set my sights on the friendly local landlord. George’s loaded comment had already suggested that he had ideas in that direction and I didn’t want Sophie joining in too.

‘Anyway,’ she thankfully carried on, ‘what have you got on your list so far?’

‘Not as much as I’d like,’ I said, happily grasping the change in subject. ‘To be honest, and I know you’ll hate me for it, but I would have loved to do an online search to firm up some of these suggestions. Unfortunately, I haven’t got my phone on me.’

‘Well, I suppose I can help you there,’ said Sophie, ducking down under the counter and then popping back up clasping a brightly coloured patchworked quilted bag. ‘You can use my laptop if you like. It would be good for it to get an airing before Hope comes back and tells me off for not using it.’

‘Goodness me, Sophie,’ I laughed. ‘You have a solution for everything, don’t you?’

‘More often than not,’ she smiled warmly. ‘More often than not.’

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Sophie very kindly said I could take the laptop back to the cottage if I wanted to and, even though the offer was both generous and thoughtful (classic Sophie traits, I was beginning to realize), I decided not to accept. I had really had to force myself to stay focused during the afternoon in the café, and I had still struggled to eschew my inbox and avoid social media. Left alone with the device overnight, I didn’t think I could trust myself not to give in to temptation. My phone was proving difficult enough.

‘We’ll have to get our heads together and have a look at these plans of yours,’ said Sam as he served my dinner on Sunday. ‘Sophie tells me you’ve got a notebook full of ideas.’

I looked over to the bar and Sophie gave me an encouraging thumbs up. I hadn’t been able to resist heading back to the pub after I’d seen the board advertising the traditional roast during my walk and I was now sitting at a table with George and his sister, Gladys, poised to tuck into the biggest and crispiest Yorkshire puddings I’d ever seen.

‘Oh, she mentioned that, did she?’ I said, looking up at him and completely forgetting my former conviction to stop admiring his eyes.

‘Just once or twice,’ he laughed.

‘And even if Sophie, hadn’t,’ said Gladys, reaching for the horseradish, ‘he still would have known you’d taken his offer to help out seriously, wouldn’t you, Sam?’