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the stars.’ Conrad put her down on the floor. ‘I love you, darling.’
    ‘I love you too. Conrad, I’m sorry about earlier …’
    He kissed the tip of her nose. ‘Don’t give it another thought.’ Releasing her, he looked round. ‘I think champagne’s in order. Where’s Renata?’
    Vanessa’s euphoria faded slightly. ‘It’s fine, I’ll get it myself.’
    ‘Don’t be stupid, what do we pay her for?’
    They all jumped as the door handle suddenly rattled furiously. ‘Mrs Powell!’ Renata’s voice sounded frantic.
    Vanessa rushed over and pulled it open. Renata had gone completely grey and was clutching at her chest. Oh my God , Vanessa thought. She’s having a heart attack .
    ‘Renata! Are you all right?’
    The housekeeper shook her head. ‘Paul, he fall off ladder! I think he dead!’
    Paul wasn’t dead. Vanessa had flown out to the garden, breaking the heel of one of her Jimmy Choos, to find the young gardener dazed but very much alive. An ambulance was quickly called and at the hospital Paul was diagnosed with concussion and a broken left arm. He would be out of action for at least eight weeks.
    Racked with guilt, she immediately arranged for flowers to be sent. If she hadn’t sent him up there to see to the branch in the first place, none of this wouldhave happened. On a more practical note, thank God they had insurance.
    Conrad, on the other hand, was furious with Renata for spoiling his big moment. ‘Couldn’t the decrepit old bat see he was breathing?’
    ‘She got confused,’ Vanessa told him. ‘She’s an old woman, don’t be too hard on her.’
    ‘She looks like she’s about to croak any second. We’re not running the Cotswold branch of Dignitas here.’
    ‘Conrad!’
    ‘I’m just saying, darling, it makes me nervous . She should be in a nursing home where she can’t cause trouble. Your mother agrees with me.’
    They were in the living room, both nursing strong G and Ts. Vanessa’s nerves were in shreds: she’d sent Renata to have a lie-down. Marty had headed back to London shortly after the ambulance had left.
    Conrad drummed his fingernails on the arm of the sofa. ‘Anyway, back to business.’
    ‘The Silver Box Awards?’
    ‘What else?’ His brown eyes glinted. ‘My God, I’m going to have the power to make or break a career, Vanessa! Let them bloody know how it feels to be stuck out in the wilderness for a change.’
    ‘We’re only presenting them, not deciding who wins,’ she pointed out.
    Conrad wasn’t listening. ‘We’re the face of Silver Box, beamed into millions of living rooms all over the country! People aren’t going to remember Stephen Fry’s nauseating speech about how he owes it all to his dead cat, but how great your tits looked and themagnetism of my screen presence.’ He sighed happily. ‘I’m going to be batting off the roles afterwards.’
    ‘You’re incorrigible,’ she smiled.
    ‘No, I’m fucking horny.’ The thought of being back up where he belonged had given Conrad a raging hard-on. He put a hand on Vanessa’s knee.
    ‘We can’t,’ she protested, half laughing. ‘My mother will be down soon.’
    He whipped off a cufflink. ‘You’d better get your clothes off quick, then.’

Chapter 8
    Fleur was on her way back from Evesham market with Ben. As the lorry pulled up at traffic lights she took the chance to wind the window down discreetly. The smell of cheap aftershave was overpowering.
    ‘It’ll be better next time,’ Ben said stoically. The price they’d got for the ewes had been disappointing. The supermarket meat buyers were paying less too, even though lamb was making good money elsewhere.
    ‘We said that last week,’ she sighed. ‘And the week before. Face it, Ben, things are crap.’
    He looked uncertain, as if the conversation had suddenly got far deeper than he was comfortable with. The same school year as Fleur, he was the archetypal farmer-in-the-making: sturdy and straw-haired, with solid arms and a