He could see the relief in her face. 'Yes.'

They downed their drinks and pushed their way through the scrum to the door. Once outside, they stood for a moment to settle their reeling senses. 'Not one of my finest ideas, I'll admit,' he said, enjoying the sight of her adjusting her beret. 'I'm sorry.'

'It's hardly your fault the entire population of Kings Melford had the same idea as us.'

Fishing his keys out of his jacket pocket, he led the way over to his car. Five minutes later and he was apologising again, this time for a flat battery. 'I'm so sorry,' he said, admitting defeat and slamming down the bonnet in disgust. 'This evening is going from bad to worse. I'll call us a taxi.'

'No. Let's walk along the towpath. It's a clear night, practically a full moon. Besides, I know the way like the back of my hand.'

'Boy, are you my kind of girl! Intrepid as well as forgiving. The perfect combination.'

He found a torch in the boot of the car, and once they'd taken the steps down to the path, he was tempted to risk a bit of hand-holding, but decided he wasn't brave enough. So near to the ca.n.a.l, she might well push him in if he stepped out of line.

Once their eyes had grown accustomed to the darkness, he found they didn't need the pathetically weak beam from the torch and he shoved it inside his pocket. Along with the hand nearest to her. Better safe than sorry. He soon realised he had to alter his usually slow loping step to match her more hurried pace: he'd never known a woman walk so fast. Where did she get the energy from? 'How's your asthma?' he asked.

'It's fine. I seldom get any problems at this time of the year. It's pollen and mildew spore related.'

'And that day in my shop?'

'Ah, that was stress induced. It doesn't happen like that too often, thank goodness. How's Suzie?'

Touched that she was interested, he said, 'Oh, she's blooming.' He then told her about Suzie coming to work for him.

'Will it be a real job?'

'Are you accusing me of nepotism?'

'Yes.'

'Then guilty as charged. My only defence being that I want Suzie to be happy.'

'She must be feeling so isolated, as if she doesn't fit in anywhere any more.'

Thinking how astute this comment was, he acknowledged that Harriet's situation wasn't that dissimilar from Suzie's - they had both ended up in situations that had left them feeling marginalised and up against it. Come to that, it was more or less what had happened to him when he'd thrown in the towel as a lawyer.

'How's work going?' he asked. 'Have you settled in now?'

'Pretty well. My boss says I'm his favourite person at the moment.'

'Any particular reason why?'

'I helped to pull in a lucrative contract he'd been after.'

'The trip to Dublin you told me about?'

'Yes. He got the news today. So it was cakes all round this afternoon.'

'You should have said earlier. If we'd been able to hear one another in the pub we could have raised our gla.s.ses and made a toast to you. Another time perhaps.' When she didn't respond to his suggestion, he said, 'How's your father? I don't know him well, but he didn't seem himself when we were looking round the house.'

In the still night air, he heard her tut. 'He's being a complete pain. Nothing anyone says or does is right. I don't know what's got into him, or how Mum puts up with it. She's either a saint or a fool. I could never let anyone treat me like that.'

Will didn't doubt it for a second. 'You don't suppose he's depressed, do you?' he said. 'I only ask because when I went through my period of wanting to hack great lumps out of my colleagues, I blamed everyone else for how I felt. I didn't care a jot about anyone else's feelings. Only mine.'

Her pace slowed. 'I can't imagine you being depressed.'

'It happens to more people than you'd think. I could try talking to your father, if you like?'

'I doubt it would do any good. By the way, how's your friend you mentioned during the children's firework party? Any news yet?'

He'd forgotten he'd told Harriet about Marty. 'He has an appointment with the specialist tomorrow. I'm meeting him for a drink in the evening.' He caught her look. 'And yes, hopefully it will be somewhere quieter than tonight. Is it my age, or do they play the music louder these days?'

'Why do you keep going on about your age?'

'I don't, do I?' He knew full well that he did. He also knew that it was her youthfulness that made him more conscious of it.

'You seem determined to - ' Her voice broke off as she stumbled and lurched forward. He reached out and held her tight.

'You okay?'

'I'm fine. The trees are taller here and they're blocking out the moon. You can take your hand away now.'

'Would it be very ungentlemanly to refuse the lady's request on the grounds of hanging on in case I trip as well?'

Her answer - 'Only if you promise I can fall on you if that happens,' - gave him the courage to slip her arm through his. They walked on in silence, at his pace rather than hers, their feet kicking up the leaves and disturbing the wildlife. Something small and fast scuttled across the path in front of them.

'Was that a water rat?' he asked.

'It could have been'

A long way off an owl hooted, followed shortly by the eerie screeching bark of a fox. Pointing to the hedgerow on their right, Harriet said, 'Felicity and I used to squeeze through the brambles there to get to the far side of the field and listen to the nightingales.'

'I've never heard a nightingale sing before.' He'd also never heard Harriet refer to her sister so readily.

'People make the mistake of thinking they only sing at night,' she carried on. 'We heard them during the day quite often, but when it was dark it always seemed more magical. Once, during a particularly warm spell in early summer, we came here for a midnight picnic.'

'With Miles and his brother?'

She turned and looked at him. 'We didn't do everything with them. But yes, they were with us. Stupidly, Mum and Dad thought we'd be safer with them.'

'Are there still nightingales here?' he asked, wishing he hadn't provoked the sharpness in her voice. He was curious, too, about the 'stupidly' reference. Had something happened that night?

'I don't know if there are any here these days; it's years since I've been to listen to them. Their song period is only from April until June. It's very fleeting. Like so many things in life,' she added. Her tone had become soft and wistful now.

'You'll have to take Carrie and Joel on a midnight picnic next year. They'd love it.'

In the silence that followed, Will speculated on some of what Dora had told him the night of the fireworks about the intensely close friendship between the Swift girls and the McKendrick boys. 'Clique' was the word Dora had used to describe the foursome. 'You couldn't have got a cigarette paper between them, they were that close,' she'd confided. 'Unhealthily so, in my opinion.' According to Dora, the older brother, Dominic, whom she colourfully likened to a wily fox in a chicken coop, was the one they all followed, with Miles destined to be in his talented brother's shadow. 'Eileen and I used to feel sorry for him,' Dora had further explained. 'We blamed the parents, though. They shouldn't have treated the boys so differently. Mind you, it was Harvey who was at the bottom of it. He had some very peculiar ideas. He could also be excessively strict. Cruelly so.' Will didn't get to hear the rest of the story as that was when Eileen had announced supper was ready.

When they were just feet away from the end of his garden, Harriet slipped her arm out from his. 'Oh no you don't,' he said. 'My reputation as a gentleman will be shot to pieces if I don't see you home safely.'

'And mine too as a modern, independent young woman if I let you.'

'Fair point. In that case, let's compromise. I'll walk you as far as the footpath. There, that's my final offer.'

'There's no need.'

'I agree. But humour an old-fashioned guy.'

Minutes later they were standing at the entrance to the footpath and she had her hands pushed into her jacket pockets. He wished now that he'd suggested a nightcap or a cup of coffee when they'd been standing at the end of his garden. Behind them the ca.n.a.l was sleek and dark and above them the sky was immensely vast: it was a perfect night and he really didn't want it to finish.

'Well, then,' he said, playing for time and desperately thinking if there was anything else he could talk about to keep her longer. 'I'm sorry the evening was such a disaster.'

'Please don't keep apologising. I enjoyed the walk.'

'Really? I should try that old dead-battery trick more often.'

Her mouth curved into a soft smile. 'I mean it. It brought back memories.'

'Not painful ones, I hope.'

She shook her head. 'Mostly happy memories.' But as she said this, the smile melted from her face and she looked ineffably sad. He suddenly felt a tremendous surge of tenderness for her, and without thinking what he was doing, he put his arms around her and kissed her.

Chapter Forty-Three.

It was a mistake. A colossal error of judgement. He knew it the second her body stiffened in his arms and her lips, cold and unresponsive, felt like stone against his. As she continued to stand rigidly impa.s.sive, klaxon bells went off inside his head. Stop! What the h.e.l.l do you think you're doing? She'll kill you, you idiot! Then there was an excruciating moment when he lowered his arms and stepped away from her, and she simply stared back at him. There was no anger or horror in her face, just a look of such terrible blankness he felt more humiliated than if she'd slapped him.

'I'd rather you didn't ever try that again,' she said. She turned and walked away. He wanted to rush after her and say how sorry he was, or at least explain himself, but the sight of that funny little stalky bit on the top of her beret, combined with her dignified exit, rooted him to the spot. Unable to move, he watched her disappear round the corner and into the darkness of the footpath. There was no backward glance, no conciliatory gesture to say that there was a s...o...b..ll's chance in h.e.l.l that he'd ever be forgiven. He'd blown it. But then so what? What had he thought would come of it, anyway?

Halfway along the footpath, Harriet came to a stop. She was breathless and jangly. What the h.e.l.l had happened back there? Why had he kissed her? And why had she reacted like that? Why had she experienced ... she hesitated, hardly able to put it into words. It was all too strange. All so unexpected. The nearest she could get to describing what she'd felt was to say there had been a sudden weakening sensation deep within her, as if something sore and tender inside her chest had been touched. She had been so startled by her reaction that she had frozen in his arms and forced her brain to evaluate what was going on. When this had failed, she had decided retreat was the best course of action.

Her breath forming in the cold night air, she mentally scrolled through the evening. Had there been earlier warning signs that he wanted to kiss her? At the house? The pub? He'd certainly been keen to hold her hand once they were on the towpath, but she'd thought that had been a chivalrous thing, like the way her father insisted that he walked on the roadside edge of the pavement. 'A gentleman has to shield the lady from the splashes caused by the carriages,' he used to say.

Had there been other moments when Will had wanted to kiss her? She couldn't be sure. It wasn't in her nature to be always clocking up the attention she attracted. Spencer used to tease her that she wouldn't know a guy coming on to her if he stripped naked and threw himself at her feet. Apparently he'd been dropping hints that he fancied her from the minute he'd joined the firm, but she hadn't noticed. Over the years, Dominic had frequently accused her of living like a nun. What was it he'd said of her in Dublin? Oh, yes, that she had a frosty streak of self-denial. Even Felicity had teased her for being so restrained. She suddenly felt crushed. What was wrong with her? Why couldn't she be more like everybody else? Why wasn't she more s.e.xually aware? More in tune with her body?

Once again she was reminded of the hurt of being rejected by Spencer. Was it possible that if she'd meant more to Spencer he wouldn't have walked away? He'd have hung in there and helped her all that he could. The word 'love' had never been mentioned between them, but then nor had l.u.s.t, or pa.s.sion, or desire, or any of those other words Miles and Felicity had been so fond of using in their emails. s.e.x with Spencer had been adequate, she now saw. Very quickly into their relationship they had slipped into the routine of making love after supper, never before, and never too late. Rarely first thing in the morning, either. Spencer had been a real sleep faddist and had to have his eight hours minimum. Looking back, there had been a predictable sameness to their relationship. At the time she had thought it suited her perfectly, that it was a part of her life she could neatly compartmentalise.

It was not an edifying discovery, but she had to face up to the truth: she wasn't a very exciting or loving person. And the net result of that, surely, had to be that she was unlovable. She would never experience the adoration her sister had experienced for the simple reason that she was incapable of giving it out herself. If Dominic was to be believed, she lacked emotion and spontaneity. As unpalatable as it was, Harriet had to admit that she was dull and uns.e.xy. Could there be a worse crime in this s.e.x-obsessed age?

Yet Will had wanted to kiss her. She put a hand to her lips and touched them as if recalling his mouth against hers. Why had he done it? And why, more importantly, had it provoked that weakening sensation? Try as she might, she could not recall another man kissing her eliciting such a perplexing response.

There was only one logical way to find out what had caused it. Turning back the way she'd just come, she retraced her steps, all the way to the end of Will's garden. If she was going to do this, it had to be now. Leave it until tomorrow, and she'd lose her nerve. For the second time in the last two days she was acting out of character. Yesterday she had deliberately invited Will to see the house in front of Miles to get at him, to prove some twisted kind of point: See, I don't need you, I have plenty of other friends. Friends who don't lie and cheat on people. Friends who don't treat me as second best. Within hours she was regretting freezing Miles out like that. It was no way to treat an old friend. Or a new friend, for that matter. Using Will to score a point was cheap and unworthy.

It was when they were at the house and Will had asked her to go for a drink with him that she had undergone a moment of epiphany. She suddenly realised what it was about Will that she liked. He took her for who and what she was: Harriet Swift. He had never known her sister, therefore he hadn't and never would make a comparison. She would never be second best in his eyes. Spencer and Erin had both met Felicity and they had both independently made the same comments she had heard for most of her life - that Harriet was quieter than Felicity, that Harriet was shorter than Felicity, that Harriet was more serious than Felicity.

But that would never happen with Will.

She looked up at his house. There were lights on downstairs. Good, he hadn't gone straight to bed. She pushed open the gate, walked the length of the garden with a purposeful stride, her eyes straining in the dark to pick out anything that might trip her up, and knocked on the back door. This is a first, she told herself, a spontaneous first. This would show Dominic!

The door opened just as she was about to raise her hand and knock once more. 'Harriet?' He couldn't have sounded more surprised.

'May I come in?'

He looked confused. Alarmed, even. Is that what she did to people? 'Yes. Of course.' He stood back to let her in. 'I was just having a drink. Would you like one?'

'No thanks.'

He shut the door after her, then raked both his hands through his hair. 'Look, I'm sorry about what I did. I should never have tried it on. I don't know what I was thinking.'

'Please, I haven't come here for an apology.'

'Really? Why then? Has something happened? An accident ? The children? Do you need to use the phone?'

She shook her head.

'What then?'

'I need you to do something for me.'

'Oh. Okay. What is it?'

She swallowed. 'I need you to kiss me again.'

He opened his eyes wide. 'What?'

'Please don't make this any more difficult for me than it already is. I want you to kiss me like you did before.'

'Is this some kind of crazy trick? Because if so, I ought to point out that entrapment's against the law.'

'Just kiss me, Will. And no funny business,' she added, after an agonising moment had pa.s.sed while he seemed to be making up his mind whether to go along with her request.

He came towards her, slowly. Inches from her face, he tilted his head, but then pulled back and looked at her questioningly, a slight frown creasing his brow. 'You're sure about this?' he asked. He suddenly sounded as nervous as she was.

'Yes,' she murmured. And with her eyes open - she didn't want to miss anything - she braced herself for his touch: first his arms and then his lips. They felt different this time, warmer and softer. Perhaps a little more tentative. She could taste wine, too. His arms felt different. Firmer. More solid. He wasn't wearing his jacket, which meant she could feel the warmth of his body through his shirt. She could even feel his heart beating.

Her heart gave a surge and an aching tenderness filled her chest. Next a flood of warmth swept through her. It was like the sun bursting through the clouds. It was at this moment, on the towpath, that Will had pulled away. She didn't want that to happen this time and so she put her arms round him, closed her eyes and hoped he'd keep on kissing her. Except now she was kissing him, opening her mouth wide against his, wanting the warmth to go further within her, wanting him never to stop kissing her.

But he did. 'Hey there,' he said, 'you've got to breathe sometime. First rule of kissing in this house. Especially for asthmatics.'

At the sound of his voice and the touch of his hands on her face, she opened her eyes and found herself staring into his. They were the darkest shade of brown she'd ever seen. She took a deep breath, realising that he was right: breathing was a good idea.

'I don't wish to appear nosy,' he said, while straightening her beret, 'but was there any particular reason why you wanted me to kiss you? After all, you did say I wasn't to do it again.'

'I ... I wanted to know if I'd imagined something.'