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that will happen to me,’ mused Kitty, standing back to admire her handiwork.
    Something life-changing was happening to her, Coralie nearly pointed out, except that would slow Kitty down even more and at the rate she was working they’d be there all day. Kitty had returned to Penmorfa at Christmas, apparently after a temporary work contract had ended in Cardiff. That was one reason she’d given for coming back. She still wasn’t talking about the other, the little baby bump she was trying to hide. Everyone was playing along with Kitty for now, pretending nothing had changed. Not that Coralie had a problem with that approach; most people had something they didn’t particularly want to talk about. And whilst Kitty wasn’t going to be able to keep her secret to herself indefinitely, it would be a relief for all concerned if she turned to her mother first.
    ‘I don’t really know what I want to do,’ Kitty went on, pulling at her crinkle tunic top where it was trying to hug her stomach. She was still at the stage where most people wouldn’t have noticed her condition, but most people hadn’t had Alys pacing their room, tearing her hair out over her daughter’s determination to remain close-lipped.
    Coralie took over with the unpacking, unobtrusively speeding things up whilst Kitty wandered over to the Dream Body sample bottles and helped herself to a dollop of hand cream.
    ‘I keep hoping something will come to me, see. I worked in the garden centre last summer, but I get terrible hay fever and it ruined my nails,’ Kitty said, flexing her fingers. ‘Perhaps Gethin Lewis will spot me whilst he’s here and ask me to be his next muse?’
    Coralie bent over the box. She’d woken up far too early, full of the usual four-in-the-morning worries, and then found herself wondering about her neighbour. Her grandmother’s notes recommended tucking a piece of muslin sprinkled with lavender oil into a pillow case to combat sleeplessness. Although Coralie lay back and tried very hard to conjure up lavender fields, she couldn’t quite dismiss thoughts of alternative cures involving the man next door, possibly reclining just the other side of the wall.
    ‘Is his work any good?’ she couldn’t resist asking, whilst Kitty blatantly unscrewed one of the non-samples and waved it under her nose.
    ‘Oh, that smells lush!’ Kitty eyed her over the bottle. ‘I can’t believe you’re asking that! You must have heard of Last Samba before Sunset .’
    ‘That’s not him, is it?’ Coralie was shocked. Posters and cards of the elegant yet deeply sexy portrayal of a couple dancing on the beach in late light, oblivious to the disapproving stares of two frumps crouched behind a windbreak and a pair of old farmers assessing them like horse flesh, adorned living room walls and student bedsits everywhere. The male figure was in shadow, his back turned, so that the attention centred on the sensual beauty of the woman with her arms outstretched moving towards him. It was an iconic image and to think, its creator had been practically naked in her back garden!
    Kitty grinned and nodded. ‘Watch, there’ll be a run on any magazine with a free lipstick in the express supermarket, now he’s back. Even if they do offload all the rubbish colours on us here. Got to be worth a try, though. I wouldn’t mind letting him have a good look at my finer points.’
    The weak sunshine filtering in through the stable door, which was open whilst they went to and fro with boxes, was temporarily blocked as a shaggy-haired, good-looking blond guy leaned in at them. ‘Talking about me again, Kitty?’ he said, raising the shovel he’d been using to clear the paths like a trident.
    ‘In your dreams, Adam,’ Kitty sniffed, turning away to get on with the stacking.
    Adam grinned, showing a chipped front tooth which, together with a slightly crooked nose, only added to his rakish charm. Coralie shook her head, puzzled by Kitty’s sudden froideur. It was