‘This is for you.’

‘You mean the picnic?’

‘I mean the whole thing.’ He laughed then, and I couldn’t help laughing with him as the sheer joy bubbled up and out along with a tear.

‘You built me an arbour?’

‘I paid a guy in the village to build it. But yes, it’s for you. I hope the tears and laughter mean you like it?’

‘Are you joking? I love it! This is the best gift anyone has ever given me. Even better than when Mum and Dad gave me a Powermop.’

‘There’s also this.’ He reached into the basket and handed me a rectangular package. Removing the wrapping, I found a framed photograph of Charlie and me, from the first time she’d come to work at the Tufted Duck. We were both wearing aprons and brandishing wooden spoons in a Charlie’s Angels pose. Charlie had a streak of flour in her hair. Beneath the dramatic expressions, we were clearly about to burst into laughter.

‘Where the dream began,’ Daniel said, slipping his arm around my shoulders.

‘Okay, so I changed my mind.’ I turned my head to bury my face in his neck. ‘This is the best gift.’

We stood there for a long moment, and as my memories settled, only one thought replaced them: I love you!

Could I say it? Should I? I had never said those words to a man I wasn’t related to before. Let alone one I’d been dating for less than three weeks.

Before I could make up my mind, Daniel pulled back, tugging me over to the nearest bench. ‘Come on, Charlie wouldn’t want us moping about on your birthday. Let’s eat.’

Lunch was delicious in every sense of the word. An entrancing view, picnic food from an upmarket farm shop that even Nora would approve of, including a rich, gooey birthday cake, and the best possible company.

Once we’d finished eating, and Daniel had waited politely for me to finish waffling on about the garden plans, we snuggled closer and lost ourselves in long, indulgent kisses.

I couldn’t say the words out loud, but with every touch my body declared the undeniable truth:

I love you.

No offence to my new friends, but I wasn’t sorry that they’d bailed on my birthday lunch.

It was late in the afternoon by the time we packed everything up and ambled back through the trees, arms entwined, hair mussed, wearing matching stupid smiles as we floated along in a romantic haze.

Luke met us in the farmyard, having just finished up for the day. ‘You missed a parcel delivery.’ He nodded back towards the house. ‘It’s on the kitchen table.’

He swung up into his van with a nod and the barest hint of a knowing smile, and left us to it.

‘It’s for you,’ Daniel said, handing me a box about eight inches square.

‘Oh?’

‘Did you order something for the house?’

‘No.’ I shook my head, puzzled. ‘Maybe Becky did.’