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Although we're having fun together, I find I can't help myself becoming emotionally involved, my feelings for him deepening each time we meet. It isn't what I planned and I don't seem to be able to do anything about it.

We catch up several times more over the next three weeks, snatching odd moments between his duties on the farm and my shifts, before the prospect of him leaving Talyton St George looms like a dark cloud on the horizon. One night I stay over. I wake the following morning and I'm lying in his arms on the sofa bed when he says, ‘Can we meet up again soon? Tonight? I'll have to work late to make up my hours.'

‘I'm on call Monday and Tuesday, so . . .' I hesitate. ‘How about Friday? We're having a get-together with some friends. Me and Emily, that is.'

‘Emily's already told me I'm coming along.'

‘Has she? My sister is impossible.'

‘My brother will be down too. He's finished his exams and he's dropping by on the way to Newquay for a few days' surfing. He'll be having fun while I'm milking cows in the wilds of Shropshire.'

‘How long are you away for?'

‘Just a month.'

‘I'm going to miss you,' I say fondly.

‘I'll see you on Friday,' he says, kissing me again, ‘I'm not leaving until the Sunday morning, so we can have another training session with Frosty if we said Saturday at about two? After that, I'll be back for the Country Show. In the meantime, I reckon Murray won't miss me for another hour or so. What do you think?' As Lewis's fingertips trail across my cheek, down my neck and under the duvet, I find I can't think of anything at all.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Top Dog

Friday night can't come soon enough, but when it does arrive and I'm ready to go out in a low-cut top and heels, I find Gran, looking lost and alone in the kitchen.

‘Are you all right?' I call.

She looks up from where she's stirring some meaty concoction in a saucepan and gives me a small smile.

‘What is that?' I ask, wrinkling my nose at the aroma of boiled cabbage and sage.

‘Gravy for the stuffed hearts.'

‘You have remembered I'm going out.'

‘Of course I remember,' she says blithely. ‘I've cooked one for me and one for the dog, and Norris likes a little cut up in his bowl. Have a lovely time, won't you?'

‘I will.' I hesitate, finding myself torn between
going out with my sister and friends, and staying in with Gran. She hasn't lost any weight, but she looks more frail, and her hair, usually so neat, is like a bird's nest.

‘Is your man-friend going to be there?' she asks.

I've given up trying to get through to her about the fact that Lewis isn't my boyfriend. Yes, we've slept together, but it isn't serious, and I really don't want to have to explain that to my grandmother when I can hardly explain it to myself. I don't do casual relationships. At least, I didn't before I met Lewis.

‘He will be there, yes, and everyone else. How would you feel if I brought someone back to the flat? Not tonight,' I hasten to add. ‘We didn't discuss that when I moved in.'

‘How would you feel if I brought someone back?' she counters.

I take a step back, thrown by her comment.

‘I don't know. I suppose I'd be . . .'

‘Surprised?' she finishes for me.

‘Well, that, and happy for you.'

She smiles again. ‘There hasn't been anyone since your granddad, but I've had offers. I'm still a looker, apart from a few extra crinkles and grey hairs. You don't believe me, do you, Zara?'

‘Well, enlighten me. Who was it, Gran? Who made you an offer?'

‘Offers,' she says, with a gleam in her eye. ‘There was one of Uncle Nobby's mates. I turned him down because he smelled of mothballs and flashed his Niagara at me.'

‘Niagara?' I start laughing. ‘I think you mean Viagra.'

‘He kept his pills in his wallet. The other one was two summers ago. I suppose you could call it a holiday romance,' she goes on more seriously.

‘You are a dark horse. I didn't have a clue.'

‘It was something special, between the two of us. I didn't have to go telling everyone about it, putting it on Bookface or introducing him to my friends.'

‘What was he like?'

‘Like Mr Darcy – proud and handsome with a generous heart. John's wife died of cancer the year before and his daughter persuaded him to holiday in Devon with her and his grandchildren. He came into the shop every day for two weeks.'

‘Was it very romantic?' I ask, as Gran gazes out of the window into the distance.

‘He was charming. He brought me flowers and wrote me poetry, and he came up to the flat for tea. But nothing happened.'

‘Don't go there. I don't need to know.'

‘I did fall a little in love with him,' Gran says quietly. ‘I sometimes wonder, what if? What if I'd been more forward like you young people seem to be nowadays? What if I'd invited him to come and stay for a weekend?'

‘I didn't think you'd ever feel like, that because . . . Well, you and Granddad were so close, I didn't imagine there could ever be anyone else.'

‘Neither did I, but John was special, and when you've been alone for a long time, you realise that
it could be your last chance of love. I just wasn't brave enough to take the next step. I didn't think I could be that lucky – to fall in love with two wonderful men.'

‘Have you heard from him since?'I ask.

‘He sent letters for a while and I wrote back, and then they stopped and I didn't like to chase it up in case . . . There could be lots of reasons why he gave up writing to me.'

I hear a car draw up outside and a toot on the horn.

‘That'll be Emily.'

‘Have fun.'

‘I'll see you later.' I give her a hug. I don't acknowledge Frosty, who's hanging around at my feet, knowing full well I'm going out. It sounds mean, but Maz advised me to ignore her so she doesn't get so stressed about me leaving.

Emily is driving. Murray, Lewis and Lewis's brother are with her.

‘Hi everyone.' I climb into the back of the Land Rover and squeeze up to sit beside Lewis – I think it's deliberate, I don't think he takes up that much room. He's wearing a white shirt, light sweater and gunmetal grey chinos, and smells of fresh aftershave, not sheep. I fasten the seatbelt, brushing his thigh at the same time.

‘I'm sorry,' I say quickly.

Lewis chuckles.

‘Hey, keep your hands off our shepherd,' Emily says, teasing.

‘Emily! I'm trying to find the thingy for the seatbelt.'

‘Is that a euphemism? I haven't heard it put like that before,' Murray laughs.

I'm going to kill my sister in a minute. I catch her glancing in the rear-view mirror and give her a look, just like my mum used to – and still does, occasionally, if we're doing something of which she disapproves.

While Emily and I are almost identical in appearance, Lewis and his brother are very different, and it's hard to imagine they're related. Connor is a couple of years younger. His face is smooth and boyish and his hair is long. He's wearing a hoodie, jeans and lashings of Lynx.

‘Meet Zara,' Lewis says. ‘Zara, Connor's hoping to catch some waves over the weekend before he goes down to Newquay to meet his surfing mates.'

‘I can't wait,' Connor says.

‘I wish I was a student again,' Lewis says.

‘What do you do, Connor?' I ask.

‘I'm studying for a degree in media studies. I want to get into directing.'

‘You'll have to have a chat with Kev later. He's into directing too – traffic,' Murray says.

‘Murray, what's up with you and all the witty banter?' Emily says.

‘You've hardly let me out in the past couple of months.'

‘Ha ha,' Emily says sarcastically. ‘As if.'

We leave the Land Rover on the seafront at Talymouth, outside the Indian restaurant, Murray and Emily hanging back to search for Emily's mobile and
lock up while the waves crash against the sea wall alongside us.

‘It's a rough night,' Lewis observes.

‘Great for surfing,' says Connor. ‘I wish I'd brought my board along.'

‘You have a one-track mind,' Lewis says.

‘Not quite. There's surf, sand, sex . . . and more sex,' Connor laughs out loud as he mimics The Inbetweeners. ‘Not necessarily in that order.'

‘The others will be waiting,' I say, spotting Claire's car further down the seafront.

‘Hurry up, you lot,' Claire yells from the door of the restaurant. ‘Kev's almost finished the pickles, so you'd better get a move on if you're joining us.'

The interior of the restaurant is decorated with scarlet and gold wallpaper and dark wood. Tessa and Jack, Claire and Kev, Murray, Emily and Connor are already at a table with a stack of poppadums and pickles, and bottles of wine and Indian beer. Murray makes the rest of the introductions and Claire pats the chair beside her, inviting Lewis to sit there. I take the next seat along.

‘Claire and Kev are getting married in September,' I say.

‘There are one hundred and six days to go.' Claire checks her watch.

‘I wish we hadn't had such a long engagement,' Kevin says. ‘I don't know what we'll talk about after we get hitched. I'm an expert on biodegradable confetti and I know now that a favour isn't a good turn you do for a mate.'

Lewis glances at me and grins. I did warn him that the hot topic of conversation would inevitably be The Wedding.

We order food and drinks, while Emily calls Mum to check on the girls.

‘Poppy won't go to bed,' she says when she comes off The phone.

‘That's great news,' Murray says. ‘The later she goes to sleep, the more likely she is to lie in tomorrow morning.'

‘I don't know what we're going td do without you, Lewis,' Emily says. ‘You've been amazing with the girls. Poppy loves your dogs. She's going to miss all three of you like mad.'

‘I'll be back for shearing,' he says quickly.

‘And the Country Show,' Murray cuts in. ‘I'd like to see you knock Chris off his perch as reigning champion this year.'

‘I'll make sure I get some practice in,' Lewis smiles.

‘I'm glad I'm not helping out with the shearing this year,' Emily goes on, ‘but there are times when I'd rather spend the day with the flock than with my little darlings.'

‘Yep, Poppy bleats more than any sheep I've ever met.' Murray turns to Jack and Tessa. ‘It's ironic, really. You can't wait for them to be born, and when they arrive you wish you could send them back. I love them dearly, but it's hard work being a parent.'

‘Murray, don't put them off,' Emily says.

‘It's a bit late now,' Jack says, reaching out towards Tessa, who takes his hand and guides it to touch her pregnancy bump.

‘Don't let Zara start on the gruesome birth stories,' Emily warns.

‘I won't, I promise.'

‘What are you having to drink, Zara?' Lewis asks, his thigh pressed against mine.

‘A fizzy water, thank you.'

‘Are you sure you wouldn't like a glass of wine or something stronger?'

‘Water's fine,' I say, thinking of my diet. ‘I don't really drink.'

‘You don't drink?' He seems surprised. ‘Emily does.'

‘She doesn't drink much. Alcohol doesn't really agree with me, but don't let me stop you.'

‘Did you ever drink alcohol?'

‘When I first started my training I used to go out with the other girls and drink too much – tequila, mainly.'

Gradually, Murray grows increasingly drunk in a cheerful way while Jack grows quiet. Claire is pretty sozzled, while Kev and Emily remain sober for the drive home. Connor and Lewis drink lager by the bottle, becoming ever louder, until Lewis eats one of the flowers from the vase on the table as a dare.

‘Lewis, is that funny?' I ask lightly as he chews and splutters on a red rose.

‘Funny?' Connor says. ‘It's bloody hilarious.'

I have to force myself to bite my tongue as I clear up
the petals that are strewn across the tablecloth, with the waiter watching with a weary expression from the corner of the restaurant.

‘My brother's mental,' Connor laughs. ‘You can't take him anywhere.'

‘You dared him to do that,' I say, embarrassed. ‘Is he always like this?'

‘When he's had a few.' Connor slaps him on the back. ‘There's no need to be so uptight about it. We're just having a laugh.'

‘Lighten up, Zara. Have some fun.' Lewis grabs his glass and drains it of beer, spilling half of it down his front before calling to the waiter for a refill. I know I'm used to being the sensible one and having to watch others making a fool of themselves when we're out partying, but I still find it embarrassing.

‘We've only just started,' Connor says, encouraging him.

‘Boys will be boys,' Claire sighs.

‘I need a wee,' Emily says, coming to my rescue. ‘You coming, sis?'

‘Did we have to know the detail?' Murray groans.

‘I spend too much time with Poppy,' Emily grins. ‘Nothing fazes me. You'll find that out soon enough, Tessa. When I go to the doctor now, I walk in, pull my jeans straight down and jump on the couch.'

‘I wish you'd do that for me,' Murray says hopefully.

‘Maybe later,' she says, brushing her fingers through his hair as she leaves the table with me following along behind.

‘It's going well, isn't it? Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves, some more than others,' Emily says from the cubicle in the Ladies.

‘I don't know. Lewis and Connor are drunk – they're embarrassing.'

‘I'm sorry, but in my opinion you're overreacting.'