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up into Frank’s blue eyes, eyes that were approximately six feet higher than the floor he was standing on, and straightened my shoulders just a little.
    “Anyway,” Frank continued, “a recipe, that’s all you need.”
    “Recipe?”
    “For chocolate mud cake.”
    “You’ve got to be kidding, recipes don’t like me. It doesn’t matter what I do, they never turn out looking like the picture. Even those packet cake mixes … they fall apart.”
    “Do you sift the flour?”
    “What?”
    “Sift the flour? Get rid of lumps?”
    “No.”
    “Use butter or margarine?”
    “Margarine.”
    Frank thought for a moment, “it’s not the recipes that don’t like you. It’s you that doesn’t like recipes.”
    “Butter’s not good for you.”
    “Nor’s chocolate cake. Do you know what you need?”
    I was hopeful. “Someone to cook for me?”
    Frank was shocked, “no! You need advice. I’m going to an open-day tomorrow, a demonstration of cookery and baking over in Hughenport. They promise to give away a few trade secrets.” He chuckled. “Probably some other dirty secrets as well.”
    I smiled. Was he offering to share a few cooking secrets with me? Definitely could be useful, especially with my baking skills.
    “The information is always handy,” Frank continued, waving his arms in exasperation. “But these things are so damned boring. I didn’t fancy going alone and since you’re in desperate need of some serious help, I thought you’d like to join me?”
    I can’t lie; I was shocked.
    “It’s just for a few hours and you’d be saving my life.”
    You can’t go , the little voice in my head was scandalised. It was also starting to sound suspiciously like Martha. You have to say no .
    “Why?” I asked the voice, belligerent again; why did Martha always tell me what I should and shouldn’t do.
    “People can die from boredom, you know,” Frank shrugged.
    “What?”
    “Boredom.” Frank frowned. ‘save me from boring people. A fate worse than death.”
    You’re falling for him , Martha’s voice insisted, can you honestly tell me that you’re not?
    “So, would you like to come?” asked Frank.
    “Yes, I can,” I announced loudly to Martha, looking wildly around. Where is she hiding?
    Frank took a small step backwards, “oh … um … good,” he said brightly. “Shall I pick you up around nine?”
    Frank and Katy sitting in a tree , sang Martha’s voice. I shook my head in exasperation, kay, eye, ess, ess, eye, en, gee. Kissing!
    “No!” Frustrated, I turned up the volume to drown out my annoying friend.
    Frank took another step back, dreadlock man was watching curiously from where he was restocking the doughnuts. “Oh … um … good,” he repeated, “maybe we should meet here, then?”
    I blinked rapidly a few times. Martha had gone, for now. I stared at Frank instead; he looked a bit distressed. Plastering an award winning smile on my face, I grabbed the cardboard box holding my cake, picked up my other shopping bags and took a deep breath.
    “I will meet you here,” I stated. “I will meet you here at nine o’clock.” And with that I swung gracefully out the door.
    *
    It wasn’t until later, snuggled up with Will in bed, that I had the chance to think further about the events of that day. Everything had worked perfectly, just as Martha had said it would. The baked fish had been divine, the wine splendid. Will’s eyes had lit up like a little boy at Christmas, when he had seen the cake.
    “Madam,” he’d demanded sternly, “are you attempting to seduce me?”
    Smiling provocatively, I had allowed my dress to slide slowly off one shoulder, revealing an eye-full of red silk and lace. Oh yes, it had all worked to perfection.
    Lying here now, with Will’s seed drying between my legs, I could relax at last. Couldn’t I?
    The sex had been, well, the best ever. But was it proof?
    Homosexual men had been known to have sex with women, it happened all the time. And even if he