Martha dropped her fork. “You’re kidding. The Finn Cool? I love his music. I mean, he’s quite old obviously—” Too late she realized that Finn must be half Kathleen’s age. “But I still think he’s great. He booked your tickets?”

“Not personally. He consulted me on my preferences and contacted his manager who arranged everything. He was most accommodating, and I was grateful because I couldn’t bring myself to ask Liza to do it. It doesn’t look good to say I want adventure, and then to be afraid of the internet.”

Martha thought it was adorable. “How did you meet Finn Cool? I thought most celebrities were pathologically private.”

“It was rather amusing.” Kathleen picked up her glass and the bangles on her wrist jangled. “The entrance to his house is difficult to locate. I assume that’s why he chose the property. I’m forever having people knocking on my door asking where he lives.”

“That must be annoying.”

“Not at all. It’s entertaining. I once sent a grubby-looking news hack with a camera across two fields in the wrong direction.” Kathleen leaned forward. “I never trust a man flaunting a large camera lens, do you? One wonders what they’re trying to prove.”

Martha choked on her drink. “I don’t know anyone who owns a camera. Everyone uses their phones.”

“Well, he was one of those men one dislikes on sight, so I sent him on his way. But he somehow missed the notice about there being a bull in the field and had to be rescued by the farmer.”

It was the funniest story she’d heard in a while. “Did Finn Cool know?”

“Not at first. But then I rerouted a car full of young hopeful women to the next village, believing I was helping. Turned out they were guests who had been invited to one of his outrageous parties.”

“How did you find out?”

They called him for directions, and no doubt mentioned the unhelpful old lady who lived down the road. The next day he appeared at my door with a large bunch of flowers and a bottle of excellent gin to thank me for being the dragon at his gates. We drank some of the gin together in the garden and when I told him about the photographer he roared with laughter. After that we agreed that anyone who was a welcome and expected visitor would be issued with a code word that would be changed monthly. That way if someone knocked on my door and didn’t use the right word, I would send them on a long and interesting diversion.”

Martha decided she loved Kathleen. “What’s this month’s code word?”