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that he never noticed her as a woman than for him to be unhappy.
    ‘Nope. I should think people understood her wanting a man who was around to pay her some attention and who had a private jet.’ He sounded regretful, as if he was taking some blame for Eleanor’s defection.
    ‘Oh he has a private jet?’ said Daisy. ‘Say no more! All is now clear!’
    He squeezed her arm. ‘Daisy, I’m sure you know that the PR girl must never take the piss out of the bestselling author.’
    ‘I’m allowed to take the piss out of you,’ Daisy explained. ‘But I mustn’t piss you off.’
    He laughed properly. ‘And how do you know that the former hasn’t caused the latter?’
    Daisy didn’t waste time trying to work out exactly what he meant – she got the drift. ‘Don’t tell anyone I said this, but as long as Venetia never finds out, I don’t really care!’
    ‘Maybe I’ll tell her!’
    ‘But she knows you’re really grumpy so I’ll just tell you were in a bad mood.’ She paused. ‘And she will believe me because to be fair, you are in a bad mood most of the time.’
    ‘Honestly! I don’t know what to say about you!’
    ‘If you were a slightly less literary writer you’d know that you say, “What are you like?”’
    ‘That’s the thing,’ he said seriously. ‘I really do not know what you’re like.’
    Pleased with this conclusion, Daisy didn’t say anything else until she was in the stern of the rowing boat being pushed off while Rory clambered in after her.
    ‘Will Griselda be all right while we’re doing this?’ she asked.
    ‘Mari’s husband is coming up in a minute.’
    ‘That’s good of him.’
    ‘Yes it is. He loves Grizzie and will make sure there’s space for the new logs in the shed. They are both very loyal. I’m lucky to have them.’
    Daisy thought it was probably more than just luck that made them such good friends but didn’t comment.
    Rory was a restful companion, Daisy decided. He didn’t need to be chatted to, and while Daisy liked chatting – was good at it – sometimes it was nice not to bother. Instead she drank in the beauty of her surroundings. The white mountains touching the grey, snow-filled sky, leading down to the loch, like dark glass, still, deep and very cold. It was scenery, all right, and yet somehow, Daisy liked it.
    They had crossed the loch, filled the boat with logs and rowed back, twice, when Daisy got cold. Before they got back in the boat for a third and final trip she said, ‘Could I have a go with the oars this time? It’s getting chilly watching you do it all the time.’
    ‘Can you row?’ Rory’s eyebrow reached his dark thatch of hair.
    ‘Shall we see? I can give it a go, at least.’ She smiled briefly.
    ‘OK. I’ll prepare myself to be amused.’
    ‘You know what?’ said Daisy seriously, having got aboard and settling herself in the middle of the boat. ‘You should practise that. Being amused is a good skill to have.’
    ‘And you know what? You’re really helping.’
    Daisy smiled, feeling smug, ‘I’ll tell Venetia. She’ll like that.’
    They’d travelled halfway across the loch before he said, ‘You actually can row, can’t you?’
    ‘Yup. One of those things my father thought I ought to learn.’
    ‘So why do you go round looking as if you’re a complete ditz? You do have skills and yet you’re just a PR girl.’
    Daisy frowned at him over her oars. ‘You of all people should know better than that. PR girls work incredibly hard and do a really difficult and important job. And I love it.’ She had only recently discovered this.
    ‘And you do it badly.’
    ‘I’m not brilliant at it, I admit, but that’s because it’s difficult.’
    ‘But you can cook, row, basically do useful things. It’s crazy you doing a job you’re bad at.’
    ‘If you can think of jobs in London, that pay, that include cooking and rowing, I’ll apply right away. Although to be honest, I would need a whole wardrobe change.’
    He