LITMIR.BIZ

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his early forties, and a confirmed bachelor. I was late twenties and, I thought, a career educationist. Wrong on both counts.’

      She smiled crookedly. ‘We were married the day after the school closed for the summer holidays. And instead of applying for another teaching post I went into the business with Richard. David was still in college then. So I involved myself in the shop and the buying, leaving Richard free to do what he did best—create beautiful furniture.’

      Patrick regarded her steadily, then leaned over to refill her glass. ‘What happened to him, Hester?’

      ‘He died of a sudden, massive heart attack while we were on holiday in France, celebrating our first anniversary.’

      Patrick let out a deep breath. ‘Poor young bride,’ he said very quietly.

      Hester looked away. ‘Afterwards Richard’s family were very good to me. They persuaded me to stay in the business, so I did.’

      Patrick got up and took their plates, then returned with the fruit bowl and pushed the platter of cheese towards her.

      Hester accepted a crisp green apple. ‘Your turn, then, Patrick. You’re a lawyer, of course?’

      He nodded. ‘Guilty. How did you know?’

      ‘Your bow to the bench was a bit of a giveaway.’

      ‘Reflex action. Though I’ve retired from actually practising law.’

      ‘Retired?’ She eyed him curiously. ‘Aren’t you a bit young for that?’

      ‘I’ve taken up another career,’ he said blandly. ‘But I used to be a city lawyer, working in the London office of a New York-based firm, earning a quite outrageous salary. UK law governs project and corporate deals in Europe and Asia, and global-minded American law firms tend to hire UK lawyers to stay on top of the competition. And as the icing on the cake I shared a flat with the gorgeous Alicia, who earned a six-figure salary in advertising.’

      Hester listened in awe. It all sounded a long way from the laid-back lifestyle of Chastlecombe.

      ‘On one of my trips to the Washington office I took Alicia with me and introduced her to an American colleague, Jay Benedict the Third.’ He smiled crookedly. ‘Big mistake. Jay earned more than I did, and his daddy’s rich, too. Jay’s also an ex-college quarterback, half a head taller than me—all shoulders and flashing white smile. And a brilliant lawyer, the swine.’

      Hester let out an involuntary giggle.

      Patrick grinned. ‘I gave them my blessing through clenched teeth, flew back to London and proceeded to expand the office and make an even bigger packet for myself. Then one day I took a good look at myself and didn’t much like what I saw. After some soulsearching I resigned and became a defence lawyer with a firm where I did as much legal aid work as the more remunerative stuff. I trust,’ he added, ‘that you are now full of respect for my U-turn?’

      ‘Deeply impressed,’ agreed Hester. ‘So why did you retire?’

      ‘I’m coming to that. Let’s have some coffee?’

      When they were settled in the study, Patrick went on. ‘So now, dear reader, we come to the really interesting bit. After Alicia’s desertion I worked twice as hard, but the playing no longer appealed. So in the long winter evenings I began to write a book—a novel about a hot-shot, materialistic lawyer and the various cases, lost and won, that bring him, with help from the woman he loves, to a final, shattering epiphany. The realisation that there’s more to life than possessions. Corny, I know. But it worked. It comes out here next month, and it’s already been auctioned off in the States. And there’s a pretty good chance of film rights.’

      ‘In that case,’ said Hester, with a smile, ‘you should soon be able to run to some furniture for this place.’

      ‘From Conway’s, of course?’ he said swiftly.

      Hester coloured to the roots of her hair, angry because she felt so hurt. She looked at her watch and got up. ‘It’s late. I must go.’

      Patrick jumped to his feet and caught her hands. ‘I was joking, Hester. Please stay.’

      She shook her head, feeling suddenly tired. ‘I won’t, thank you. I’m entertaining a guest for Sunday lunch tomorrow. I’ll need an early start.’

      Ignoring her attempts to withdraw them, Patrick kept hold of her hands. ‘Hester,’ he said urgently. ‘I never thought for a moment that you were drumming up trade. Damn,’ he added bitterly, ‘I’m not usually so maladroit.’

      She stared down at their clasped hands, unwilling to indulge in a struggle she was unlikely to win. ‘Thank you for the meal,’ she said at last, and the grasp on her hands relaxed.

      ‘Any thanks involved are due to you, not me,’ he said quietly. ‘It was very good of you to drive out here with the desk.’

      Hester looked up, meeting his frowning green gaze very directly. ‘I often make deliveries. Even on Saturday evenings. It’s all part of the Conway service. Now, I really must go.

      Outside, the wild, tangled garden was bleached free of colour in a twilight scented with warm earth and new-mown grass.

      Patrick breathed in deeply. ‘I would like to be your friend, Hester.’ His voice was crisp and incisive, almost startling in the stillness. ‘It seems a shame to let one ill-considered flippancy prevent that. Unless the idea of friendship with me is anathema to you, of course.’

      It wasn’t in the slightest. And taking umbrage with a potential customer was a touch immature for a thirty-something widowed lady, thought Hester, recovering her sense of humour. She smiled at Patrick with sudden, deliberate warmth.

      ‘It’s not. I’m sorry. I was touchy.’ And, to prove she had recovered, her smile deepened. ‘But I’m not proud. Joking or not, if you do need any furniture you know where to come.’

      ‘I may take you up on that.’ His smile was just visible as a show of white in his sun-bronzed face. ‘Can’t I persuade you to tour the house again, give me advice about what I need?’

      ‘Could we leave that for another day—?’ She stopped, flushing.

      ‘Certainly—when?’ asked Patrick promptly. ‘Not tomorrow, I know. Is your lunch guest male or female?’

      ‘Male,’ said Hester, oddly flattered. ‘A regular arrangement. We alternate. Sometimes I cook lunch for him, sometimes he takes me out.’

      ‘Would he object if I did this?’ He bent suddenly and kissed her surprised mouth. ‘Which means I’ve really scuppered myself now,’ he said, stepping back. ‘So I may as well go the whole hog and admit that last night I was furious with myself for feeling attracted to another man’s wife—one who was playing around with Galbraith all night, to add to my joys.’

      ‘Oh, I see,’ she said in sudden comprehension. ‘That’s why you were eyeing me with such disapproval.’

      ‘I’m surprised you noticed. You kept your distance.’

      ‘I thought the pregnant lady with you was your wife. And I’d been on the bench when her sons were in court. Of course I kept away from you—both of you!’

      ‘Is Galbraith a close friend?’ he asked bluntly.

      ‘I wonder what you mean by close?’ she said, raising an eyebrow. ‘Tim’s just a friend. Like all my menfriends, he keeps to the rules.’

      ‘Whose rules?’

      ‘Mine.’

      ‘Tell me what they are and I’ll keep to the letter of your law, I promise. Though I admit to a dislike of the sound of “all”. Are there that many?’

      ‘Three, if you’re counting. One’s a widower, another’s recovering from a divorce and Tim harbours a much-publicised allergy to marriage.’

      Patrick

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