‘And you never have?’

Irritated by her own endless swirling, Perdita put her glass down with a click. ‘Yes,’ she said, her eyes sliding away from his. ‘But he didn’t want me enough to compromise, and a relationship takes two. You can’t do it all on your own.’

‘No,’ said Ed, wondering what sort of man a woman like Perdita would love. What sort of man wouldn’t love her enough to compromise even a little.

‘So I’ve given up on compromise,’ said Perdita, and she snapped on a bright smile. ‘When I meet a man, I don’t think about anything except having a good time, and when it’s not fun any more, it’s over.’

Well, that told him, Ed thought wryly. ‘If you’re happy to be on your own, I suppose that’s the best attitude,’ he said after a tiny pause.

‘You obviously don’t like being on your own.’ For some reason, Perdita found herself wishing that she hadn’t been quite so adamant about the joys of single life. ‘Have you thought about getting married again?’

It was Ed’s turn to play with his glass. ‘When Sue knew that she was dying, she made me promise that I would move on and make a new life, try to find someone else, but it’s easier said than done. For a long while I couldn’t imagine being with anyone but her, and then, as time went on, I did think about what it might be like to find someone else but, between the kids and work, there hasn’t been that much time to think about meeting the right woman,’ he said dryly. ‘Even supposing I knew who or what the right woman was! But Lauren is fourteen now, so she’s getting more independent, and it means that I don’t need to struggle to find an acceptable babysitter if I do want to go out in the evening. I’m hoping that moving here will make a difference to all of us.’

‘Has it yet?’

‘It’s a bit soon to tell. In spite of moaning constantly about missing their friends, Cassie and Lauren already seem to have made new ones. Tom’s finding it harder. He doesn’t have their social skills.’

And you? Perdita wanted to ask. What kind of woman would be the right one for you?

‘Tom was fine with me this afternoon,’ she said instead, feeling that she was straying into very intimate territory. Perhaps it would be better to get back to more impersonal topics. ‘I felt sorry for him being landed with an old bag like me instead of having one of the other kids as a partner, but he certainly didn’t make it obvious.’

‘I should hope not,’ said Ed, evidently happy to follow her lead and steer the conversation back on to safer ground. ‘I don’t know what he thought at first-Tom’s not exactly chatty, as you’ve probably gathered-but I doubt very much that he considered you an “old bag”! He liked you.’

‘You didn’t ask Grace to put us together, then?’

‘Of course not. In spite of what my children think, I’m not that much of a control freak! I have to say that I was glad to see that he had been paired up with you, though. It meant he worked a lot harder than he would have done otherwise-swept along in your wake! I think he enjoyed it a lot more than he expected to, thanks to you.’

Perdita made a face. ‘I don’t know that “enjoy” was the operative word!’

‘Oh, come on, Perdita, it wasn’t that bad, was it?’

‘It wasn’t quite as bad as I was expecting,’ was all she would acknowledge. ‘I just can’t see how the project is going to work, though.’

‘Didn’t Grace show you the plans?’

‘Yes, but the project needs investment as well as a few people with forks,’ she pointed out. ‘It’s a huge area-the hard landscaping alone will cost a fortune.’

Ed’s mouth quirked in amusement. ‘There speaks a practical businesswoman! But I agree. Substantial investment is going to be needed. Grace tells me that she’s hoping to get sponsorship for all the materials and wants to persuade skilled craftsmen to volunteer to teach the kids how to lay bricks, make hedges and fences and that kind of thing.’

‘It all sounds a bit vague to me,’ said Perdita crisply, wondering when Ed had had all these cosy little chats with Grace and what else they had been talking about. ‘Fund-raising takes a lot of time. Grace told me that she’s organising all this from her front room at the moment and trying to run her own consultancy. She won’t be able to keep that going indefinitely.’

‘No,’ Ed agreed, getting up to stir his sauce. ‘Which is why I’ve offered to sponsor the cost of getting someone to work part-time on the project, doing all the administration and chasing up potential sponsors. Grace thought that was a brilliant idea.’

He lifted the lid of the big saucepan to check whether the water had come up to the boil, while Perdita turned her glass crossly between her fingers. Ed and Grace seemed to have a mutual admiration society going. Good for them.

She scowled down into her wine, aware that she might not mind if Ed hadn’t more or less admitted that he was looking for a new wife-or if she hadn’t liked Grace so much. She was quite a bit younger than Ed, of course, but she was lovely and, as a widow, she would presumably have a lot in common with him. They were perfect for each other, in fact.

And why was that thought so depressing?

CHAPTER SIX

SOMETHING in the silence suddenly made Perdita lift her head to see that Ed had turned from the cooker and was patently waiting for her to answer a question that she had been too wrapped up in her thoughts to hear.

‘Sorry?’ she said awkwardly, a slight flush staining her cheeks.

‘I was just wondering if you knew of anyone who might like a part-time job.’

‘I might,’ said Perdita, thinking of Millie, who had been struggling to make ends meet since her divorce. ‘Would the hours be flexible?’

‘I don’t see why not, but it would be up to Grace. Get them to contact her if they’re interested.’

Ed wiped his hands on the tea towel still draped over his shoulder and pulled open a drawer in search of cutlery. ‘Supper’s nearly ready. I’ll just lay the table.’

‘Let me do that.’ Perdita pushed back her chair and stood up. ‘I’ve just been sitting here doing nothing,’ she said guiltily.

‘You’re a guest. That’s your job,’ said Ed, but he let her come round to take the spoons and forks from him.

Perdita’s hands brushed his as she reached for the cutlery and a small, sharp thrill jolted through her at the touch so that she drew a breath that was dangerously close to a gasp. His skin was warm and she was acutely aware of how close he was. Afraid that he would read her response in her eyes, she didn’t look at his face but found herself fixing on the rough cotton weave of his shirt, the way one of his buttons was chipped and how his neck rose in a strong column from his casual open collar. She could see the pulse beating in his throat and had a sudden, shocking impulse to press her lips to it.

Aghast at herself, Perdita turned sharply away, fumbling with the cutlery in her hands. Her heart was thumping so hard that she was finding it hard to breathe.

Ed evidently hadn’t even registered that brief graze of their hands, or if he had it certainly hadn’t bothered him. He had found some mats and was slinging them carelessly around the table.

‘I usually insist that one of the kids lays the table,’ he said as Perdita concentrated fiercely on setting a spoon and fork on either side of each mat, ‘but as it tends to lead to a fight about whose turn it is and why I treat them as slaves I thought I’d spare you the aggro tonight. Sometimes it’s easier just to do it yourself.’

Although her head was bent, Perdita could see his hands as he set everything else on the table. They were strong and square and capable, and every time they caught at the corner of her vision she felt hollow. God, she must pull herself together!

‘This music is lovely,’ she croaked, hating the breathless crack in her voice. ‘What is it? Bach?’

‘That’s right.’ She felt him glance at her. ‘Do you like classical music?’

‘I like it when I hear it, but I don’t know anything about it at all. My father used to say I was a complete philistine.’

‘That’s what I say about Cassie, so perhaps there’s hope for her yet.’

‘There are masses of classical concerts in Ellsborough and I always say I’ll go, but of course I never get round to it.’

Perdita could feel herself babbling and wished she had something else to do with her hands. There were only so many times one could straighten a fork. She sat back down instead and picked up her wine. ‘I do enjoy it when I listen to it like now, though.’

‘Well, make the most of it as it will probably end up being turned off when the kids come down,’ said Ed wryly. He went to the door and bellowed, ‘Supper’s ready!’ up the stairs.

‘I’m surprised,’ said Perdita, who had recovered a little. ‘I’d have had you down as a man who listened to what he wanted in his own house.’

‘I was before I came up against the immovable will of a teenager,’ Ed said with grim humour. ‘I could insist, I suppose, but there are so many fights with adolescents in the house that you end up choosing the ones you think are really important and letting all the others go.’

Sure enough, when Cassie clattered down the stairs the first thing she did as she swirled into the kitchen was to head for the CD player. ‘Oh, Dad, not this boring old stuff again,’ she said, ejecting the CD. ‘You are so sad!’

‘Perdita was enjoying that,’ Ed pointed out mildly, but Cassie only tossed her head.

‘She was probably just saying that to be polite. Can I put on some real music?’

‘No,’ said Ed as he drained the spaghetti. ‘It’s Bach or nothing.’

Rolling her eyes, Cassie plonked herself down next to Perdita as Tom drifted into the room, followed by Lauren, who was a slighter, quieter version of her big sister.

‘I can’t do my stupid French homework,’ she complained, slumping into a chair when she had been introduced to Perdita. ‘I hate my teacher here. Everybody does.’

‘Be nice to Perdita and maybe she’ll help you afterwards,’ said Ed. ‘She speaks French.’

The three of them turned to look at her as if she had sprouted three heads. ‘I spent a year working in Paris,’ Perdita excused herself.

She expected Cassie to sneer at this but instead she seemed to be impressed and talked animatedly about a school trip to Paris the previous year. ‘I wanted Dad to take us to France this summer but he wouldn’t,’ she told Perdita.

‘I took you to France a couple of years ago and you complained the whole time,’ said Ed mildly as he handed out plates of spaghetti.

‘That’s because you hired a stupid house out in the middle of the country and made us walk everywhere and Lauren kept throwing up in our bedroom.’

‘Only once,’ protested Lauren.

‘It was at least three times!’

‘It wasn’t!’

In no time at all the minor squabble had degenerated into a bitter argument about who had been sick when, where and with what degree of inconvenience to the rest of the family.

‘Do we have to have this discussion when we’re eating?’ Ed demanded at last and forcibly changed the conversation by asking Perdita about her time in France.

‘Well, I did have food poisoning once,’ she said, and the girls laughed when Ed pretended to glower.

‘I’ve heard enough about throwing up this evening, thank you!’

It was just the evening Perdita needed, and she was amazed at how quickly she felt at home with Ed’s children. Tom was quieter than the girls, but more than capable of holding his own. Cassie was clearly the dominant personality, but when she forgot her pose of tortured teenager she could be very funny. She and Lauren chattered engagingly about their friends and school, which they claimed to loathe in spite of the fact that they appeared to have settled in with remarkable ease. They were already vilifying their poor teachers as if they had known them for years.

Perdita countered with some of the more scurrilous stories from her own school days in Ellsborough, and they were soon comparing their experiences of being young, particularly the trials of having a strict parent always wanting to know where you were going, what you were doing and, more importantly, who you were doing it with.

‘It was like living with the FBI,’ Perdita remembered and, sensing an ally, Cassie shot her father a look.

‘I know exactly what you mean,’ she said meaningfully.

‘You know, you’re supposed to be on my side,’ Ed complained to Perdita with a grin. ‘I only invited you because I thought you were a responsible adult!’

By the time she time left, Perdita was feeling brighter and more relaxed than she had done for a long time. The tension that had gripped her when she’d left her mother’s house had been swept away by an evening of animated conversation. Supper had been simple but tasty, and although spaghetti wasn’t the easiest of dishes to eat elegantly there was something incredibly comforting about sitting around a kitchen table.