‘Tell them Damson Farm will pay good wages if they put the work in.’

‘Aye.’ Eddie nodded his approval. ‘We know the Perrys’ll do us right.’

As I turned to go, Daniel took hold of my hand. ‘Did you need to ask me something, or did you just come to have a nosy?’

I looked at my boyfriend, how his face shone, a Perry farmer in his element. I swallowed back the terror and dismay and offered them all a cup of tea.

For the rest of the day, I sat at the laptop and scrutinised all those who had booked a stay so far, racking my brains as I scrolled through online images and LinkedIn profiles for any hint of a restaurant connection.

I don’t know why I deleted the email as soon as I’d copied it into a new folder on my laptop. I don’t know why I didn’t call Brenda or alert Becky, who I knew would make me stop being an idiot and tell Daniel. I didn’t want it to be real.

I told myself that I didn’t want to contaminate something as brilliant as Damson Day. I also didn’t want our first proper retreat to be riddled with fear and anxiety.

I didn’t want to ruin everything.

I made a promise, in order to prove to myself that I wasn’t always going to be a coward and a liar, that I would tell Daniel everything, including that I had invented Nora Sharp, as soon as Damson Day was over. I even put it in the calendar on my phone: confess.

Did the thought enter my mind that in four days’ time it might be too late?

If it did, I soon chased it out again.

32

Friday, the day before the retreat, Becky and I were flat out cooking and prepping and adding the last-minute touches. The garden was still on the wild side, the exterior of the farmhouse needed a lick of paint, but we were embracing nature, and as long as the house was clean and in good order, we were happy that we’d done enough for now. Alice was due to join us on Saturday, as all day Friday she was on shift at the pub, but to our surprise she skidded up the farmhouse drive while we were grabbing a quick lunch on the freshly weeded patio.

Flinging open her car door, she tumbled out and hurried over to join us, face glowing, hair curled on one side, still straight on the other.

‘What’s happened?’ Becky asked as soon as she’d swallowed her mouthful of feta salad. ‘Is it Jase?’

Alice, gasping for breath, could initially only shake her head and flap her hands about, while trying to smile. Once I’d pushed out a chair for her to collapse into, she managed to gasp out her news.

‘I only might have bagged us a celebrity event reviewer for Damson Day.’

‘What?’ Becky was ecstatic. I felt a prickle of horror at the back of my neck.