She nods in assent. I smile and step towards her, threading my arm through hers. We step outside into a warm November day, bright sunlight sharpening the edges of the world around us.

‘It’s not the best time of year for the garden, but if you take note of what it looks like now, you’ll appreciate its summer glory all the more.’

We walk past my poky annexe. How they expected me to live there, I don’t know. Saffron must have brainwashed Miles. Left to himself, he would never treat me like that. Past the play area, past the swimming pool now closed for the season. Down the passageway between the swimming pool and the tennis courts, and through the thick line of spruce trees that Saffron insisted on keeping. And then the garden opens out. As we walk, I point out: asters, Japanese anemone, chrysanthemums, carnations, gentian, dahlia and calla lilies.

‘But … but … It’s full of colour. I didn’t expect that in the UK at this time of year,’ Hayley exclaims. ‘I loved the dahlias at Hampton Court, but this display is even more varied and impressive.’

‘I designed the planting plan,’ I tell her, shoulders wide and proud.

‘It’s amazing,’ she exclaims, eyes shining with pleasure. ‘It’s a pity you can’t see it from the house.’

‘I know. I told them that when the architect was designing the house, but Saffron overruled me.’ I pause. ‘Are you interested in horticulture?’ I ask.

‘Yes. I’m going to take a diploma in gardening in Auckland when I finally return home.’ She looks across at me and smiles awkwardly. ‘Not that I’m in a hurry. I’m very happy here, in my job. It’s just something I’d like to do long term.’

‘I’ll take you to Wisley one day. It’s the best place in the UK to learn about plants.’

We sit on a bench in the corner of the garden. Beneath the shade of a weeping willow, I squeeze her arm. ‘I need to tell you something, Hayley …’

53

Hayley

Caprice leans forwards, eyes gleaming. ‘I think Miles is strongly attracted to you.’

An electric shock runs through me. ‘But he seems so in love with Saffron,’ I protest.

‘His marriage is a sham. He just puts on a brave face.’

‘How do you know?’ I ask, still cautious.