There was a tap on the door. ‘Can I come in?’ Daniel asked.

‘Yes.’ I shuffled into a sitting position and pushed the straggles of hair off my face while Daniel took a seat on my bed, depositing a mug of tea and a raisin scone on the bedside table.

‘Becky told me what happened.’

I sighed. ‘What, that I ruined their celebratory moment by freaking out and then ran away?’

‘That you shared some understandable concerns about a horrendous D-list celebrity derailing the day.’ He shuddered. ‘The thought of her flouncing about insulting everything we’ve worked so hard on – it makes me seethe, and she’s not even here yet.’

I plastered on a watery smile. ‘She wouldn’t criticise while she was here. It’d be all fake smiles and mock politeness. But it only takes one wrong sentence from her and people will end up feeling crushed.’

‘I’m not so bothered about what she writes. People know what she’s about. I’m more annoyed that she’ll be stressing out the people who’ve been working so hard to make it a success.’

‘Well, if she was rude then it might unite the sides with a common enemy for once, help them forget how much they’re meant to hate each other.’ I sighed. ‘She isn’t going to come, anyway. I just hope Alice and Becky aren’t too disappointed.’

Daniel gently took hold of my hand, looking carefully into my eyes. ‘Why did you hide up here, instead of talking it out with them?’

My heart began to pound, and not because his eyes were so soft and kind.

‘I think I got overwhelmed by everything. This is your family farm. If the retreat doesn’t work out, then I can find another way to earn a living. But I’ve turned your home upside down. I guess the thought of Nora Sharp tainting it with her toxic opinions felt like one pressure too many.’

‘I wondered if it might have triggered some panic about the stalker. Given that you and Nora are both reviewers, your subconscious could have made a link.’ He tugged gently on my hands. ‘Not that I see you and Nora Sharp as having anything in common beyond both having been food writers.’

I shrugged, my vocal cords too clogged up with sadness and shame to speak.

He leant forwards and kissed me on the forehead. ‘You know, I might appear to be chilled and unbothered about this stalker freak, but don’t be fooled. I’m like an undercover bodyguard, alert at all times. I don’t believe they’ll show up – if I did, I’d have found us somewhere safe to stay weeks ago – but in the none in a million chance that they do, I’m here, and I’m on it, and I’ll defend you with my very life.’ He smiled, to show how preposterous the whole idea of it was.

I forced myself to smile back. ‘I know. It’s last-minute nerves.’ I nodded to the bedside table. ‘A mug of tea and a scone and I’ll be fine. Can you tell Becky I’ll be down to help in a minute?’