'Oh yes,' I said. 'Definitely. Although,' I glanced across, 'as I mentioned to Charlie .

'Lucy may not be here for ever,' he put in. 'I said you'd understand that.'

'Oh absolutely! It would drive you nuts. But a year or so? Till you sort yourself out?'

'Perfect,' I beamed.

'And you'd be able to start right away?'

'Ah. Well. I was wondering. Would September suit? Only the children go back to school then.'

His face fell a bit. He scratched his chin.

'No no,' I said quickly, 'right away is fine. Trisha can fill in for a couple of days a week. The boys will love it, actually.'

'Excellent,' Kit looked relieved. 'And the dog?' He raised enquiring eyebrows at Charlie.

'Ah yes,' said Charlie, 'I forgot to mention that. But Lucy loves dogs, used to look after one in London. I'm sure that'll be fine.' He smiled.'Dog?'

'Rococo,' explained Kit. 'Belonged to my ex-wife, and she left her behind. Together with a stash of unpaid bills. Smart woman. I'll get her. Rococo!!' he called.

Instantly, an Irish Wolfhound bounded in, as if from nowhere, but clearly from the garden since she was covered in mud. Tongue lolling, she bounced across the room, and stuck her head straight up my crotch.

'Oooof! Lovely!' I gasped, backing away. I'd seen smaller ponies.

'A bit of a brute,' said Kit, tactfully seizing her head away and wrestling it playfully from side to side. 'But a complete softy, as you can see.'

'Yes. She, um, looks it'

'So.' Kit straightened up, smiling. 'Next week, then?' I blinked. 'Oh! Yes. Why not?'

We laughed, and he showed us to the door.

'We haven't mentioned money, my dear,' he said, scratching his chin awkwardly. 'So shall I give you a ring about that, when I've had a think?'

'Fine.' I turned at the door. 'Oh, and I'd better ask too - is everything for sale? I mean, I don't want to find I've inadvertently sold the family silver or anything.'

He shrugged. 'More or less. There are a few bits of Meissen I particularly cherish, but I keep them up in the flat, so ... no. I mean - yes. It is all for sale. All these possessions, much as I love them, are actually very easy to give up. It's other things one can't afford to lose. Can't replace, either.'

He looked beyond me, abstracted for a moment. Then he came to. He smiled and shook my hand warmly as we took our leave of him.

The door shut behind us and Charlie and I walked slowly down the drive to the car.

'He's still sad,' I murmured as I got in beside him. 'Hmmm. Well, he lost his boys for a while, too. She got full custody.'

'Oh! How awful. Didn't he see them at all?'

'Hardly.'

'But now?'

'Now, they're old enough to choose. And they spend a lot of time with him. But you can't ever make up for those lost years. The ones you imagine.'

I thought of the son that Charlie had lost, the years that he imagined. Just as I'd often imagined the years the boys had lost, the ones they should have had with their father.

'No,' I agreed soberly, 'you can't.'

We drove home in silence, the wind in our hair, and I was curiously grateful for the roar of the engine which made conversation, if not impossible, something of an effort.

At length, we purred up the back drive to Netherby and drew up outside the barn. The front door was shut, as were the windows. It looked empty, deserted. Trisha, Jack and the boys were clearly still out fishing. All around, fields of long gra.s.s, ready to be made into hay, rippled gently in the breeze; delicate seed heads shimmered in the midday sun, and from the golden flood of the b.u.t.tercup meadow came the m.u.f.fled hums and flutters of bees, b.u.t.terflies and dragonflies. Charlie turned off the engine. We didn't look at each other, but in the silence, I could almost hear my heart beating. I felt sure hecould hear it too. At length he rubbed the leather steering wheel, nervously, with his fmgertip.

'So. Here we are,' he said quietly. I detected a faint tremor to his voice. 'And now, I suppose, Lucy, we're going to have to address something.' He swallowed. 'We're going to have to decide ... what on earth we're going to do'

Chapter Thirteen.

'Do?' I echoed stupidly. My heart was racing. I turned to face him.

'Well, clearly something bigger than both of us is going on here, don't you think?' he said softly. 'I mean, I for one don't think it's entirely coincidental that we kept tripping over each other in London like that. In fact, if it didn't sound too much like my wife, I'd say it was something of a sign.'

I swallowed. I didn't like to say he was right, it wasn't a coincidence, but that sadly, the only symbolism going on was the Apache Sniffing Tracks kind.

'No. No, you're right,' I agreed, contriving to look bewildered. 'It was extraordinary, wasn't it?'

'Quite extraordinary. And now, here you are, on my other patch, twenty-five miles from Chelsea, in the heart of Oxfordshire. Don't you find that bizarre?'

'Bizarre,' I croaked. Crikey, hadn't we been through all this at the party? Must he persist?

'And so I can't help thinking,' he ran a bewildered hand through his hair, 'that somehow, something was meant to be, here - if that doesn't sound too corny. And to be honest, evenif it wasn't meant to be,' he shifted in his seat, turned to face me fully for the first time. I could feel my breath coming in inconvenient little spurts. 'The fact is, I can't stop thinking about you, Lucy.'

'Oh!' My limbs twitched convulsively.

'Ever since I ran into you at that party the other day, I ... well, I was up all night, actually. Prowling around the house with a gla.s.s of whisky in my hand. Finally I went to bed but I still couldn't sleep. Couldn't get your face out of my mind.' His dark eyes were bright and sparkling, fixed intently on me. I could feel my nostrils flaring back with excitement, my heart pounding. He slipped his arm along the back of my chair.

'I know you feel it too. I can sense it,' he urged. 'Please tell me I'm not going completely mad?'

'You're not,' I murmured, glancing nervously about. I seemed to be in the grip of an extraordinary dilemma here. On the one hand, the desire to collapse into his strong, brown arms was almost overwhelming, but on the other hand - here? Outside my house? In a convertible car with the windows of Netherby glinting away over there in the sunlight?

'What about a cup of coffee?' I gasped nervously.

He laughed and withdrew his ann. 'Excellent idea. And don't look so worried, either. I wasn't going to pounce on you here, with the eyes of Netherby upon us, and neither, I promise, will I pounce on you inside, over the Nescafe. I just wanted to see ...' he struggled, 'well, if you feel even remotely the same way. Have even the faintest idea what I'm talking about'

His brown eyes were like pools of liquid chocolate, now. Soft, vulnerable, even.

'Oh yes,' I breathed. 'I do.'

G.o.d. 'I do.' Sounded like I'd just married him or something. Married. Help! I leapt out of the car and scuttled up the garden path. I was aware of him following, at a more sedate pace.

Christ, what's the matter with you, Lucy? I thought furiously, as I scurried around the house opening all the windows, not wanting to be hermetically sealed in, as it were. This is what you wanted, what you've dreamed about for months. G.o.d, you even upped-sticks and followed him down here, so why are you acting the nervous ninny now? He came through the front door and shut it behind him. I knew why, though. I turned. Swallowed.

'You're married,' I said abruptly, accusingly even. I challenged him briefly with my eyes.

He looked back at me steadily. 'Quite right, there's absolutely no arguing with that. But you're not going to tell me that comes as a surprise? That you were unaware of that before you accepted a ride in my car?'

I glanced down at my hands. 'No. No, I can't say that. I was very aware.'

'Lucy.' He came towards me, stopped in front of me. 'Nothing like this has ever happened to me before, I swear it. I mean, not since I met Miranda. For what it's worth, I've never looked elsewhere. Because of what happened with Nick well, I never thought there was anything else for me, you see. I suppose you could say I'd got used to unhappiness. Wore it, like a heavy coat, pulling me down most of the time, but these last few days, I've wondered whether it isn't actually time for a little happiness' He picked his words carefully. 'You see, I've never really felt ent.i.tled to any. Up to now.' He frowned. 'Does that make any sense at all, or am I talking b.o.l.l.o.c.ks?'

I grinned. 'Not b.o.l.l.o.c.ks. I know what you mean. I haven't felt ent.i.tled to much either.'

'And I don't even know,' he spread his hands carefully on my slate work surface, staring down as if he might draw inspiration from his fingers, 'what form that happiness could take' He looked up. 'I'm certainly not suggesting we nip upstairs and have a quick one now, but I do know that I'd like to spend time with you. Walk with you. Eat with you. Talk to you, like we've done today.'

'I'd like that very much too,' I breathed.

Oh yes, I thought tremulously. To spend time with him. To look at him properly, study him, and not just in s.n.a.t.c.hed moments. To cook supper together, to have picnics even, to idle along riverbanks, to have days like today. Yes! I went to fill the kettle, happily. Safely. A little spring in my step.

'And equally,' he went on, still gazing at his hands, 'there's nothing I can do about my marital state. In time, who knows. I think you get the picture about how Miranda and I live, fairly separately, but what I'm saying is well. It's up to you. This is me, warts, marriage, baggage and all. It's your decision, Lucy.' He looked up.

I turned from the sink with the kettle. 'That's a pretty full-on way of putting it.'

'It's honest. As honest as I can be, anyway.' He thrust his hands deep in his pockets. Frowned down at the floor. 'My only other problem is that, having said all that, having been frank and up front about my marriage and told you how restrained and sensible I'm going to be with you, the fact of the matter is, that when I'm with you, Lucy, when I'm near you ... it all goes out the window. Because I do find you so utterly, dangerously, irresistibly,' he looked up, 'desirable.'

I put the kettle down with a clatter. It seemed to me that the barn whirled. Spun like a top, but through it, his dark eyes kindled like fire, burning into my very soul. I gripped the work surface hard. Gazed back. Slowly, his hand crept across and covered mine. I stared down at it. The last time I'd held hands with a man it had been a vicar, when Max was christened. Next to our hands, on the counter, a naked Action Man grinned up at me, arms outstretched, no w.i.l.l.y. Was this symbolic, I wondered. And if so, of what?

I glanced up. Fatal. Our eyes collided and in an instant he was around that counter. In another, I was in his arms. His lips came down to meet mine. Not slowly and tentatively, but urgently, desperately and then it seemed to me he was everywhere. His hands were in my hair and then all over my back, his lips pressed hard against mine. As we came up for air, his breath roared in my ears. I could hardly catch mine, and yet a second kiss was unfurling fast, the room rocking violently again. Aware that I'd yet to utter a protest, I kept my eyes open as a token of resistance, but his kisses were covering my face now, and I felt weak. Not weak enough not to respond enthusiastically though, and I seized the back of his head, pulling it down, kissing him madly. I felt his body respond, hard against mine, pressing into me. I shut my eyes, letting desire wash over me, could feel myself slipping into heady oblivion, as a familiar voice said, 'G.o.d, it must be over a foot long!'

My eyes snapped open. Through the open window, I sawBen, coming up the path, rod in hand, holding up a fish for Jack to inspect.

'Probably more like nine inches,' Jack said, 'but anglers always lie about length.'

's.h.i.t!' I squeaked, and leapt backwards. We flew apart like deflecting magnets.

'Boys are coming!' I hissed, panic-stricken. Frantically, I smoothed down my hair and wiped my mouth. I looked around desperately and lunged for the phone, seizing it. As Jack and the boys came barging through the door, dripping wet, I was laughing theatrically into the receiver.

'Yes. Yes, I will,' I trilled. 'Lovely, Mum, that would be terrific! OK, super. See you then!' I put it down, turned. 'Oh, hi boys!'

Ben stared. 'Who was that?'

'Hmm?'

'On the phone.'

'Oh! Maisie, darling.'

'But you called her Mum. You never call her that.' 'Did I? Gosh, how silly of me!'

'And you're all red in the face. And your bosoms are all heaving. And what's happened to your hair? It's standing up on end.'

'Oh, forgot to brush it, I expect.'

'Have you been running?' asked Max.

I stared at him. My mouth opened. 'Yes.' I said finally. 'Yes, I have. For the phone. I was upstairs. N-no, downstairs! Anyway, darlings, enough of me. Have you had a good day?'

I crouched down to Max, hiding my confusion in his little face. I didn't want to meet Jack's eye. Had he seen? I couldn't look at Charlie either, because how composed would he be? Had I rumpled him irreparably? Spread lipstick all around his mouth, wreaked havoc in his hair?

'We caught two really big ones, but Jack said it was kinder to put them back,' said Max bitterly. 'But Ben was allowed to keep that one, and I caught this wiv a net.'

He took his hand from behind his back, and presented me proudly with a jam jar. A huge toad stared back at me, bug-eyed with terror. Eyes, possibly as huge with fear as mine.

'Lovely, darling,' I breathed. 'Lovely toad.' I glanced up, finally. 'Thank you, Jack.'

'Pleasure,' he drawled. 'I like spending time with them. They're great boys. A credit to you.'

I was unsure how to take this compliment. He'd deliberately sounded surprised, as if 'a credit to you - amazingly,' somehow hung, unspoken, in the air. As if I was already a fallen woman. I straightened up, flushing.

'You know Charlie, don't you?'

'We met at the party,' said Jack. 'And again outside, today.' They shook hands briefly.

'But now, I really must be away,' smiled Charlie, looking really remarkably composed, I thought with relief. 'Good to see you again, Jack. And you too, boys.'

He crouched down to peer into Max's jar. 'That's quite a toad you've got there, young man. He'll take a bit of feeding if you're planning on keeping him. Eat you out of watercress for tuppence'

'Jack says we'll set him free in a pond tomorrow, so we won't be needing much watercress.'

'Ah.' Charlie straightened up.I ground my teeth. Jack says.

'I'll come out with you,' I muttered. And somehow, I managed to shut the door behind me too.

I scuttled after him to his car.

'When will I see you again?' I asked, a trifle desperately perhaps, for a girl who'd been nervous about merely talking to a man in his car, but then you see, the thing was, I wanted him to kiss me again. Like he had in there. b.u.g.g.e.r picnics and idling about on river banks, I hadn't been kissed like that for years!

'I'll ring you,' he promised. 'But maybe,' he tilted his head back towards the house, 'maybe in London.' He took my hands and I let him. Held on tight. 'There are too many distractions here, and in London, we could walk in the parks, along the Embankment...'

'Ooh yes!' I said greedily. Glorious, glorious London, where I could breathe again - which was strange, when most people fled the city to breathe down here - and of course, where his flat was.

'Yes, and I could tell everyone I was going to see Maisie and Lucas, my parents,' I said excitedly, already formulating my excuse as to why I'd be up there. 'Come up for the whole day - a night, even'

It seemed to me that all the birds in the trees, the squirrels on the branches, paused, poleaxed by my brazenness, holding their breath for his response.

He smiled gently. 'Great. I'll ring you,' he promised again, as he got into his car.