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‘You’re quiet,’ he observed non-committally. ‘Are you feeling OK?’

Fleur looked at him sharply. ‘Why do you ask? I’m fine, thank you.’

‘Oh, it was only that Mia hinted you’d been off colour lately, that’s all. Though you look good to me,’ he added, smiling briefly across at her.

Oh, Mia, really! Fleur thought. She didn’t want her health discussed—certainly not with Sebastian. He probably thought he’d have to be on standby to ring the doctor in the middle of the night if she had a funny turn! She gave a short unnecessary cough. ‘I’ve been suffering from a slight case of over-work, that’s all,’ she said lightly. ‘This time away is already working wonders—plus Pat’s wonderful meals, of course. So there’s no need for you…for anyone…to worry about me.’

‘I wasn’t worried,’ he said casually.

‘That’s all right, then,’ she replied.

They reached the bottom of the hill and he pulled up and drew into the side of the road. ‘I’m seeing someone at this farm here, for an hour,’ he said, and Fleur shrugged inwardly. He didn’t have to explain his whereabouts to her. ‘There are plenty of good walks around for you to try,’ he went on, ‘and there are the shops, over there—though I think your money’s safe enough!’ He paused. ‘If you find your way down to the river, be careful. It’s very wet, and it’ll be muddy. I don’t want to have to come and fish you out.’

Fleur opened the door and got out, slamming it shut. ‘I’ll be fine,’ she said. ‘Thanks for the lift.’

She stood back as he drove off, and she watched him take a sharp turn left and disappear up a farm track.

She started walking along slowly, revelling in her surroundings and the almost traffic free road, and comparing it all with manic London and the frantically busy hospital she worked at. But could anyone be really happy here, all the time? she wondered. She remembered Sebastian’s words, and his obvious regret that soon he would have to give up practising law, cut off that part of his life, presumably for ever. It was bound to be hard for him at first, she thought. Then she shrugged. Why was she concerned about him? They were his problems, not hers.

After strolling around for about an hour, Fleur’s steps automatically took her along the public footpath towards the river. She could hear it before she saw it and, when she did, Sebastian had been right. It was brimful, and gurgling along happily. As if to complete the picture, a watery sun suddenly broke through the clouds, slanting its rays through the trees, and Fleur stopped. What a great picnic spot this must be in the summer. Yet did the locals ever really appreciate what was on their doorstep? she wondered.

She began treading carefully along the undulating path, her eyes riveted to the magnetic sight of the water bubbling along beside her, when, without any warning at all, and as if by an unseen force, both her feet shot from beneath her on the slimy undergrowth and she landed full-length with a thud, ending with a slithery slide, her hands flailing helplessly about as they tried to find something to hold on to.

She lay there for a few seconds, wondering how she was going to get up. She’d have to be careful—everywhere around her was wet and there was plenty of potential for further disaster—though thankfully she was well away from the water’s edge.

She saw that she was generously smeared with mud, which she foolishly transferred to her face as she wiped her now running nose with the back of her hand, and she groaned. Whatever must she look like? Staring down at herself helplessly, she saw that Mia’s jacket was plastered all down one side, and on the front, and she knew that somehow she must get back to Pengarroth Hall before anyone saw her. And, to achieve that, there was that long trek back up the hill first…

Gingerly, she moved on to her side and grasped a convenient piece of log, which allowed her some support as she got to her feet, very relieved that she didn’t seem to have hurt herself. The only thing hurt was her pride! What an idiotic thing to have happened, she scolded herself crossly—and she had nothing with her to try and repair the damage, either. She’d only come with a couple of tissues and a ten pound note in her pocket, which were no help at all. It was very unlike her not to be better equipped—she usually never went anywhere without her precious handbag, which always contained all the essentials. In fact, without it she almost felt undressed.

Now, she turned and began climbing upwards on to a higher path away from the water, her eyes intent on watching where she was treading, when Sebastian’s deep voice made her look up quickly. He stood a few feet away, his hands in his pockets, the merest semblance of that crooked smile playing lightly on his lips.

‘Oh…dear me…’ was all he said, as he looked her up and down, and Fleur gritted her teeth, feeling overwhelmingly awkward. As she climbed closer to him, he put out a hand to pull her up beside him, and as he did they came perilously close to a bear hug! He held her to him for a few seconds before releasing her and staring at her from head to foot, as if lazily assessing the damage.

‘You obviously took a little tumble,’ he said, and Fleur’s eyes narrowed slightly. The man was laughing at her, she thought, irritated.

‘Well observed,’ she said coolly. ‘But I avoided a swim.’

‘You’re not hurt…?’ he asked, and now the dark eyes were serious, the hint of amusement no longer there.

‘Absolutely not. I’m fine. If a little sticky,’ she replied, flapping her hands together and making it worse.

‘Well, then, let’s get you cleaned up,’ he said purposefully, in a way which left no room for argument. ‘They’ll sort you out at the Black Horse.’

‘Oh, but I’d better go home…I mean, back to Pengarroth Hall…’ Fleur began. ‘I thought…’

‘And I thought we might as well have some lunch at the pub first,’ he interrupted. ‘They do good food—I know you enjoyed New Year’s Eve, didn’t you?’ He glanced down at her again, and suddenly his heart missed a beat—or two! Although her somewhat crestfallen face was liberally smeared with mud, it did nothing to detract from her overt desirability—a characteristic he’d tried to dismiss since the very first moment he’d seen her…and Sebastian Conway almost stopped in his tracks. What was that word which had slipped, almost unnoticed, into his stream of consciousness? Desire? That had disappeared, along with Davina’s departure, a long time ago. Had this small, unassuming, mud-smeared woman, dressed in unglamorous winter wear, woken up his libido? He swallowed, a surge of pleasure—or was it relief that he wasn’t dead after all?—coursing through him, and he looked away from her. Because if she gazed at him once more, with those beautiful, expressive sad eyes, he wouldn’t be responsible for his actions!

He walked slightly away from her as they reached the lane, and he cleared his throat. ‘I do think that a glass of wine and a spot of lunch will do you good, Fleur. The slightest fall can be a shock to the system. And, anyway, I’m hungry,’ he added.

Fleur didn’t bother to reply. He’d decided that they were going to eat at the pub, and that was what would happen, even though she would have much preferred to go back to Pengarroth Hall. But still, on reflection, it would get lunch out of the way, she thought. Pat was not coming back until it was time to prepare the evening meal, so she might just as well fall in with his wishes and eat here, now.

As soon as they set foot inside the pub, Joy, the landlady, took one look at Fleur and sized up the situation at once. ‘Oh, my good lor’,’ she said in her lilting Cornish way. ‘Just look at you!’

Fleur smiled apologetically. ‘I was taking a walk—or rather a slide—by the river,’ she began.

Sebastian cut in. ‘Fleur would appreciate the use of your toilet facilities to get cleaned up, Joy,’ he said, ‘and then I think we’d like some lunch, please, plus a good bottle of red.’

There were, as yet, only a few customers drinking at the bar, and the woman beckoned to Fleur to follow her. ‘I’ll get you a decent towel, dear,’ she said. ‘There are only paper ones in there.’ She smiled at Sebastian, handing him a menu. ‘And you can be looking at this, Sebastian.’

Alone, Fleur sighed briefly. Why did she have to fall down and make such a fool of herself? She took off the jacket, examining it closely. All that mud would hopefully brush off when it was dry, she thought, putting it over the back of a chair for a moment, and noting that her jeans were relatively unscathed. She stared at her reflection in the rather dingy mirror and groaned. She had nothing with her to restore some of her confidence—no blusher, no lipstick, not even a comb to run through her hair, which she’d left loose that morning.

Sitting at a table by the roaring log fire in the bar, Sebastian half-stood as Fleur came back to join him, and he pulled out a chair for her. ‘You look better,’ he said casually. Then, ‘Are you really sure there was no physical damage, Fleur?’

She smiled up at him quickly, shaking her head. ‘Quite sure, thanks,’ she replied.

While he’d been supposedly studying the menu, Sebastian’s thoughts had been more occupied with what could have happened to Fleur, down there by herself. She could have badly sprained—or even broken—an ankle, and been lying there for goodness knew how long if he hadn’t decided to try and find her. And it had only been a last-minute thought as he’d left the farm that had prompted him to check whether she was still around. He shuddered slightly, reminding himself that he’d actually not intended to go back to the house until much later on—so, if Fleur hadn’t returned, it could easily have been dark before anyone had realized she was missing.

He’d handed her the menu and, after studying it for a moment, she gave it back and looked up at him, properly. ‘I’m really sorry if I’ve…interrupted…your day,’ she murmured.

Her bewitchingly long eyelashes were still wet from washing her face, and he noticed again the way she had of sometimes blinking in a kind of slow motion…which he admitted to finding strangely titillating. At this moment, she was totally unadorned, he thought, her face rather pale and her unusually untidy, loosely flowing, wavy hair touching her shoulders.

‘You’re not interrupting anything,’ he lied. ‘Stop worrying. And I’ve ordered red wine because I’ve noticed that’s what you seem to prefer…’

Fleur couldn’t help feeling surprised at the remark. She wouldn’t have thought he cared enough about her—or any of Mia’s friends—to be that observant. She bent forward slightly to warm her hands by the fire. ‘I don’t ever drink at lunch time,’ she said, ‘but I could be persuaded to make an exception—under certain circumstances. Thank you, Sebastian. Just one glass will be perfect.’

He grinned at her now, and she was aware again of his startlingly white teeth, which seemed to light up his rather serious bronzed features. ‘And, as I’m driving, I’d better follow suit.’ He paused. ‘Joy will keep the bottle safe for us. We’ll finish it another time.’

Fleur was about to say—Look, there doesn’t have to be another time—you don’t have to do this, Sebastian. I’m all right by myself…but she didn’t. Because after that first stab of embarrassment when he’d turned up by the river, she’d been grateful of his presence and his company.

Suddenly, he bent forward too and took one of her hands in his, looking down intently. ‘Look, you have hurt yourself, Fleur,’ he said, almost accusingly. ‘See—there’s quite a bad graze here on your knuckles…Didn’t you see it, feel it?’

‘A bit,’ Fleur conceded. ‘But it’s nothing, Sebastian, really. No blood. So, no blood, no tears. My father’s maxim all my life.’

He said nothing, but didn’t let go of her hand, gently tracing the affected part with his forefinger, and Fleur couldn’t help liking the sensation it gave her!

Just then, Joy appeared with the wine, and she glanced down, her quick eyes taking in the scene. Sebastian Conway had not had a woman with him for far too long, in her opinion. And this one was obviously someone special. Even with all the hubbub on New Year’s Eve she’d noticed her amongst Mia’s crowd. And she’d also noticed Sebastian’s eyes following her every move. Well, about time, the woman thought.

CHAPTER FOUR

‘THIS is always the worst bit of Christmas,’ Pat said, from her lofty position on top of the stepladder as she handed down the last of the decorations to Fleur.

‘Yes, it is rather sad—the ending of something you’ve really enjoyed,’ Fleur agreed, kneeling down to coil all the fairy lights into a large box. ‘But time goes by so quickly, it’ll soon be happening all over again.’

Just then, Sebastian came in and glanced at the two women. ‘Hi there,’ he said briefly. Then, ‘Good—putting all the junk away and getting back to normality.’

‘Oh you, Sebastian!’ Pat exclaimed. ‘Talk about not being in the spirit of the season!’

Still intent on her task, Fleur glanced quickly up at Sebastian and their eyes met for the fleetest of seconds. He was dressed, as usual, in outdoor gear, and his hair was tousled and wet from the early morning rain.

‘I could murder a black coffee,’ he said. ‘Can I get us all some?’

‘No, you cannot,’ Pat said firmly, as she climbed carefully down from the ladder. ‘I’ll do that, Sebastian, if you’ll be so kind as to take this tree outside.’

‘My pleasure,’ he said at once, as Pat left the room.

Fleur finished putting the lights away, then closed the box carefully and got to her feet.

Sebastian said, ‘How’ve you been doing, Fleur, over the last few days?’ He was feeling somewhat guilty because he’d seen hardly anything of her since her fall, not only because he’d had to be elsewhere, but because he was determined to avoid—as much as he could—any emotional entanglements, and he was honest enough to admit that Fleur could, if only she knew it, change his mind on the matter. When they’d sat together in the pub the other lunch time, two whole hours had passed like five minutes…He’d found her an engaging conversationalist, unpretentious without being coy, and with firm opinions which, though freely expressed, were never combative. And, as she’d become thoroughly relaxed in front of the fire, her face had glowed, enlivened by her eyes glistening in the light from the flickering flames. At the point when he’d reached for her hand and held it for those few moments—ostensibly to make sure she wasn’t really hurt—a sudden warmth had coursed through him, too. But with that sensation had come a wariness of being entrapped again. Easier to start than to stop, he’d reminded himself cynically. Hadn’t he always considered himself an astute judge of human nature—didn’t his profession hang on that premise?

So how could he possibly have been blinded to the essential components of Davina’s nature? He’d learned the truth eventually—fortunately before he’d made her his wife. But it had been a close run thing, the possibility of their union becoming the subject of much discussion, both at work and down here. The news of their split had travelled fast too, and his independent, rather private nature had resented the publicity bitterly. Not that all the facts of the debacle had ever generally been known, which was somehow worse because what people didn’t know they made up. And the locals who’d been expecting a glitzy wedding to talk about had had to go away empty-handed. The lesson, for him, had been a hard one, and there would never be a next time. That much he’d promised himself.

Besides, was there a twenty-first century woman alive who’d be prepared to incarcerate herself down here in the wet Cornish countryside for the rest of her life? He very much doubted that! Today’s women were different. They didn’t want to be tied to someone else’s expectations and demands. It might work for the first few months, or a year, but after that the novelty would soon wear off. No, he had set his singular course straight ahead, with no distracting turnings. Here, pretty much alone, was where he was to spend his days. And he knew that that was the best possible thing for him, and for Pengarroth Hall. It would have to be a child of Mia’s who, eventually, took charge of the estate. Even if the name died out, the blood line would almost certainly continue.

‘Oh, I’ve been having a great time, thanks,’ Fleur replied cheerfully, in answer to his question. ‘I’ve had the chance to really explore the area, and I’ve finally stopped getting lost every time I leave Pengarroth Hall. All the locals are so friendly…they love to stop for a chat. I feel as though I’m becoming part of the scenery!’

‘Hmm,’ Sebastian said briefly. No doubt tongues were beginning to wag already, he thought. He’d been aware of the landlady at the Black Horse darting them knowing glances from time to time. He cleared his throat. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been around for a while,’ he said, ‘but I knew I was going to be caught up…’

‘Please—there’s no need to apologize,’ Fleur said quickly, ‘and…’

‘No, perhaps not,’ he said, ‘but I did promise Mia that I’d be able to sort of…’

‘You shouldn’t have promised Mia anything—and she shouldn’t have asked!’ Fleur said, her colour rising, and angry again that Mia had taken it upon herself to interfere. Perhaps now was the time to invent that phone call, she thought, and go back home. ‘If I’d thought,’ she went on more calmly, ‘that you—or anyone—were going to feel responsible for me, I’d have refused the invitation in the first place. I told you, I’m used to being alone, and I like it! I like doing my own thing without the constraints of having to fall in with other people’s wishes.’ She paused, looking up at him, her face flushed. ‘Please—for heaven’s sake—pretend I’m not here!’

He half-smiled as he looked down at her, resisting the temptation to cup her chin in his hands and place his lips on hers. How could he—or anyone—pretend this woman wasn’t here? Even Pat, who had been known to show her disapproval of one or two of Mia’s friends, seemed to genuinely like Fleur.

‘OK,’ he said easily, ‘but first, you can guide this tree outside for me…We’ll have to use the side door to the garden. Here, put these on.’ He handed her his gloves, then went across and with surprisingly little effort heaved the tree out of its pot and leaned it towards Fleur, who immediately took it by a bough near the top and helped him guide it out of the hall, appreciating the gloves which protected her hands from the prickly pine needles.

‘Coffee’s ready,’ Pat called out and, after they’d deposited the tree outside, Fleur and Sebastian joined her in the kitchen. Benson was stretched out in front of the warm stove and Fleur automatically bent down to pet him.

‘I suppose Benson’s tired from his walk?’ she said, glancing up at Sebastian.

‘No, because he hasn’t had one yet,’ Sebastian replied. ‘I couldn’t persuade him to accompany me earlier. And I’m seeing Frank up at the top end of the estate this morning, so this lazy dog will have to wait until later on for his stroll.’

‘Oh, can I take him?’ Fleur asked eagerly. ‘I know the places we’re allowed to go. Will he come with me?…I haven’t been out myself yet, anyway.’

‘I’m sure he’d love to go with you,’ Sebastian replied, taking his mug of coffee from Pat.

The three of them sat there for a few minutes making light conversation, then Sebastian got up decisively. ‘I must go,’ he said, then turned to look at Fleur. ‘I’m going into Truro tomorrow morning—would you like to come? And you too, Pat,’ he added as an afterthought. ‘I know how you women like shopping.’

‘It’s kind of you to offer, Sebastian,’ Pat said firmly, ‘but I’ve lots of things to do and, besides, I want to be with Mum as much as possible. But Fleur will enjoy Truro—there’s lots to see, apart from the shops.’ She threw a shrewd glance at the two of them as she spoke. Sebastian had always been a bit of a dark horse where women were concerned, but she could definitely feel something in the air every time she caught him looking at Fleur. So she wasn’t going to play gooseberry, thank you very much. Her expression softened as she looked at Sebastian. He was a good man, and a fantastic employer—as his parents had been—never over-demanding and always appreciative. And, although he had a bit of a short fuse at times, it was usually justified; he had a very keen sense of right and wrong. She knew Frank worshipped him, would do anything for him, and now Frank’s son, Martin, always a bit of a tear-away, had come to work on the estate as well. And Sebastian had seen the youngster’s potential as a carpenter and was paying for him to go part-time to college to learn the trade properly. But Fleur…this young woman…she could be just the one for Sebastian, Pat thought. She was different from other hopefuls who’d turned up occasionally at Pengarroth Hall…She seemed to sort of fit in with the atmosphere of the place, and to really enjoy being here and wandering about by herself. And she wasn’t always looking at herself in the mirror, either.

‘Oh, fine,’ Sebastian said casually. ‘How about you, Fleur? I promise there’s enough to keep you interested while I’m seeing the accountant.’

She looked up at him. ‘Are you sure it won’t be rather inconvenient, thinking about me when you’ve got other more important things on your mind?’ she asked.

He was just about to reply when Fleur’s mobile rang, and she paused to answer it. It was Mia.

‘Hi, Mia! Yes…fine, absolutely fine! Having a great time…and feeling great, too.’ She smiled as she listened to her friend’s exuberant tones. ‘Oh, poor you, having to work so hard…but it’ll be the same for me in just over a week…unless I’m called back earlier,’ she added quickly, giving herself the option of cutting her stay short—and of letting Sebastian hear it. There was another pause, then, ‘Yes, he’s standing right here by my side. Do you want a word?’

She passed the phone up to Sebastian and listened as he and Mia exchanged the usual pleasantries. Then, ‘Yes, you know that I always do as you tell me, and I’m taking Fleur into Truro tomorrow so that she can have a look around while I’m with the accountant and the solicitor. What? Oh, yes, we might do that as well…OK, OK, I’ll pass you back. Be good.’

Fleur raised her eyebrows. She hadn’t said she’d go with him—he was assuming that she would. But then, why not? she thought. She knew Truro wasn’t that far away, and they’d only be gone for the morning…there’d still be plenty of day left for Sebastian after that, without having to think about her.

She watched his retreating back, then took their mugs over to the sink.

‘Now, you leave those things to me, dear,’ Pat said, thinking how pretty Fleur looked in her huge cream chunky sweater, her golden hair loose around her face. ‘And, by the way, Mum says why don’t you come up to the cottage for afternoon tea one day? Then you can bring back the novels she promised to lend you.’

‘That would be great, Pat—thanks,’ Fleur said. Pat’s mother had been at the house for almost the whole of the three festive days, helping out, and she and Fleur had chatted, among other things, about their favourite authors. And when Fleur had said she was into romantic novels at the moment and had finished the one she’d brought with her, the older woman had offered to lend some of hers.

‘Well, then, come up with me the day after tomorrow,’ Pat said now, ‘if you’re going with Sebastian to Truro tomorrow.’

‘I didn’t say I was,’ Fleur corrected. ‘He did.’ She smiled. ‘But yes, I will go because I’ve never been to the city before—it is a city, isn’t it, with a lovely cathedral? I mustn’t pass up the opportunity to visit it.’

‘You don’t know Cornwall?’ Pat asked curiously as she started slicing thick pieces of gammon from a delicious-looking joint for their lunch.

‘No, not really,’ Fleur said. ‘My father preferred Scotland and the Lakes, so we always went there when I was young. And in more recent years when I’ve been on holiday, it’s to foreign countries with friends.’ She paused. ‘I must be the only person in the whole world who doesn’t particularly look forward to going away. I’m much happier at home. But I have to, because that’s what everyone does.’ She watched Pat’s deft handling of the carving knife, the pink ham glistening with succulence, making her mouth water even though it was a couple of hours before she’d be eating any. ‘And thank your mother so much for the offer. She’s an interesting lady, and I’d love to come to tea.’

Pat smiled, pleased. ‘And I know she’ll love it too,’ she said. ‘She doesn’t see that many people any more and I think she’s a bit lonely sometimes. See, even when Mia or Sebastian are away, I’m here most days, checking up, cleaning up, doing the odd bit of decorating where I see it’s needed. And the kitchen garden round at the back is my domain too. Not that I do much to it this time of year,’ she added.

Fleur stood up. ‘I think I’ll take Benson now. The weather seems reasonably fine, so maybe it’s the best time of day to go.’

‘You do that,’ Pat said, giving the dog a gentle nudge with her toe. ‘Get up, you lazy hound,’ she said affectionately.

‘What happens to him when you’re not around?’ Fleur wanted to know.

‘Oh, he stays with Mum or me. Or Frank has him. He’s well looked after. Up until a couple of years ago, Sebastian would take him back to London with him, but that proved impractical, and the dog pined a bit for home and hearth, I think.’

‘Oh, well, then, Benson and I are of like mind.’ Fleur smiled.

Pat finished what she was doing, then wrapped the remainder of the joint in cling film and put it in the fridge. ‘Now, I’ll prepare the lunch for one o’clock,’ she said. ‘Sebastian said he might be a bit later than that, but it’ll all keep. And I’ll take some of this on up and have mine with Mum.’

Fleur looked over at the bustling housekeeper as she spoke, hoping that Sebastian and Mia knew how lucky they were to have such devoted people to look after them and their property, whether they were here or not. Such staff would be hard to find in London. Everything here seemed so efficient, yet so easy-going.

Fleur took her warm jacket from the hook on the back door where she’d noticed that Sebastian always kept his, then called to Benson to follow her. And, surprisingly, the dog immediately got up and padded after her.

‘See you later, Pat,’ she called as they went outside. They set off, soon leaving the house behind them as they began treading up the soggy paths, the dog happy to lead the way, stopping and sniffing every few yards.

Thinking about it, Fleur still didn’t know whether to say she’d been called back to the hospital or not…It was rather difficult now that she was going to Truro tomorrow, and to tea with Pat and her mother the day after. Which meant that there were only going to be five days left, in any case. She shrugged to herself. She’d see how things panned out. If she got the slightest suspicion that she was being a burden to Sebastian, or—perish the thought—that he was bored with her unasked-for company, she’d be gone within the hour. Until then no reason not to go with the flow, she told herself.

After half an hour or so of gentle strolling, she called out to the dog, who was investigating a scrubby bush. ‘Have you had enough, Benson?’ she called. ‘Shall we turn back now? Good boy. Come on.’

The animal emerged reluctantly from whatever had held his interest, but continued on without even looking around at Fleur, who followed on behind him. Well, he was obviously enjoying himself, she thought.

And then, as usual and without much warning, a fine rain began again. She called out, more decisively this time, ‘Come back, Benson…come on. We must go home now.’ But, staying where he was, the dog merely turned and looked back soulfully at her.

Fleur sighed briefly. Pat had told her to take the lead, just in case, and now she went forward to attach it to the dog’s collar. And, as if making a decision of his own, Benson sat down on the wet ground and refused to budge.

Fleur frowned, giving the lead a little pull. ‘Come on, there’s a good boy. We’ve had a lovely walk and it’s time to go back. Come on, up you get.’

But the dog had other ideas, and after a few pointless moments of trying to persuade him, Fleur began to feel slightly worried. What if Benson refused to come home at all? He was much too heavy for her to pick up and carry. And if she went back alone, what would Sebastian’s reaction be? She realized that the dog probably could make his own way home without any help from her, but that wasn’t the point, and she couldn’t take it for granted.

She crouched down by the dog. ‘Well, have a little rest and then come with me, Benson, please,’ she begged. She suddenly remembered that she had some mints in her pocket—maybe she could entice him with one of those. Getting up, she moved a few feet away and crackled the sweet paper between her fingers.

‘Come and see, Benson. See what I’ve got,’ she said cajolingly but, apart from a slight twitch of his nose, the dog expressed not the slightest interest.

‘OK, then, we’ll play it your way,’ Fleur said. ‘I’m going back now. See you later. Goodbye, Benson!’ She turned away and started walking back in the direction they’d come, in the hope that the dog would follow her. But, as she turned to glance back, she could see that he hadn’t moved an inch. He was not coming, and that was that.

Now Fleur was really exasperated. What now? she asked herself. She could not go home minus the dog; that would make her look silly. Glancing at her watch, she was horrified to see that it was almost one-thirty—they’d been gone far longer than she’d thought, or than she’d intended. But both she and her canine companion had been enjoying their walk so much that the time had slipped by. She shrugged. There was nothing else for it, she’d have to just wait and sit it out until Benson made up his mind to come home.