‘Have we finished the bottle?’ Tully asked, after trying and failing to fill her glass.

‘I’ll get another one,’ Rachel said. A more perfect hostess had never existed.

As Rachel disappeared into the kitchen, her phone, which was on the table, beeped. Tully glanced down at it and her eyes widened.

‘It’s from him!’ she whispered. ‘Darcy!’

Heather felt a jolt of excitement. ‘What does it say?’

Tully snatched up the phone. ‘It says: What did the cake say to the fork?’ She looked at Heather, her nose screwed up in confusion. ‘What on earth . . .?’

‘It’s a joke!’ Heather whispered, glancing back towards the house. She could see Rachel squatting down in front of a low cupboard. By the time she looked back, Tully was thumbing a reply. ‘What are you doing? You can’t answer him!’

‘I can,’ Tully said, her thumbs moving at an astonishing rate. ‘I told you, Rachel doesn’t go out with men. What we saw earlier was the closest she’s come to flirting since she was sixteen. We need to help her make a move.’ She pressed send, then held up the phone.

Heather blinked. Eat me?

‘I panicked!’ Tully cried. ‘I’m not good under pressure.’

‘Give me the phone,’ Heather demanded. She thought for a minute, then typed: Do you want a piece of me? She showed it to Tully, who nodded enthusiastically. Heather pressed send.

Almost immediately three dots appeared.

‘Are you girls okay with rosé?’ Rachel called from inside. ‘I haven’t got any more chardonnay.’

‘Fine!’ they called in unison, as a message appeared on the screen.

Even though I love your cakes . . . it said, I would never dessert you.

Heather and Tully chuckled.

‘What’s so funny?’ Rachel asked, coming outside with the bottle of rosé. ‘Sorry, I can’t find – why have you got my phone?’

Heather dropped it, just as it beeped again. She couldn’t help it; she looked at the screen.

If you’re enjoying my sweet jokes, you’re going to love my savoury ones. I can tell you all about them over dinner . . . maybe tomorrow night? It was followed by a winking emoji.

Rachel grabbed the phone and paled. ‘What did you do?’ Frantically she scrolled back through the texts. After a second, she looked up. ‘Eat me?’

‘Sorry,’ Tully said. ‘I wrote that.’

Rachel sat down heavily in her wrought-iron chair and filled her glass to the top. ‘I can’t believe you did this.’

Tully looked suitably sheepish. ‘Are you free tomorrow?’

‘No,’ Rachel said. ‘As it happens, I’m not.’

‘What are you doing?’

‘None of your business.’

‘She’s not doing anything,’ Tully said to Heather.

‘I am!’

‘Are not.’

Heather watched the back-and-forth interestedly. It was funny. During the last lunch, it had seemed to her that the sisters were not particularly close. Today, perhaps because of the wine, or maybe because talking about Darcy felt vaguely adolescent, she saw an intimacy that she hadn’t seen before. And despite Rachel’s protestations, she got the feeling that she might be losing some of her reluctance.