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mastermind hers. He’d looked after the business side of the resort and it would be down to him that it would make a healthy profit this year. But she had never once said thank you. And it was clear that she cared more about Abigail than she did him. Of course he could leave her, and he would.
    ‘I told the Kitchen that we were having a working dinner here,’ Ed said as he climbed out of bed and began to dress.
    ‘Well, we have worked,’ Lily replied coquettishly.
    ‘We certainly did. Come on, up you get.’
    ‘Do I have to?’ she asked.
    He went to the bed and kissed her tenderly. ‘Yes. Now I shall go and fix us some drinks and ensure we’re looking all business-like by the time the food arrives.’
    After they’d eaten, Lily led Ed back to bed.
    ‘You’re insatiable.’
    ‘Are you complaining?’
    ‘No. God, no.’ He didn’t want to tell her about his sex life with Anne-Marie—it didn’t seem right—but he couldn’t help thinking about it. After the first two years of marriage, she had told him that she didn’t want to sleep with him any more. She said that she needed to conserve all her passion for her books and if she had sex with him, her writing suffered. He’d been surprised and then upset, but now he was relieved. But he didn’t want Lily to have to hear about it; she didn’t need to.
    ‘Ed, was it ever like this with...?’ Lily asked, as if reading his mind.
    ‘Never, darling, never. What we have is something special. Let’s not tarnish it, eh?’
     

 
    5
     
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    ‘The competition entries have just arrived by courier,’ Lily announced breathlessly, as Anne-Marie let her into her house. It was just after five in the evening, and Anne-Marie had been on tenterhooks all day. Lily, caught up in the excitement and under strict orders, had sprinted up to the house.
    ‘Fabulous. How many do we have?’
    ‘A thousand.’
    ‘Is that all?’
    ‘It’s a good response, particularly as it was really short notice.’ Lily tried not to feel annoyed.
    ‘I suppose.’ Anne-Marie looked thoughtful, and then she smiled. ‘This calls for a celebration. Lily, come in and have some champagne with Abigail and myself, and help us choose our winners.’
    Lily froze in shock.
    ‘Come on, come in.’ Anne-Marie grabbed her arm and pulled.
    ‘Hi, Lily,’ Abigail barked. Lily smiled weakly. She found Abigail even scarier than her boss. With her deep voice, her curt manner and her seeming inability to smile, she was terrifying.
    ‘Abigail, darling, would you do the honours?’ Anne-Marie asked, as she handed Abigail a bottle. She then asked Lily to collect some glasses. The three women sat on the floor, with the competition entries at their feet as they sipped champagne and prepared to choose the winners.
    ‘Here’s what we’ll do. First, let’s get rid of any who are too old. Anyone over thirty can go.’ Anne-Marie looked at her pile. ‘Of course, I bloody well couldn’t specify an age, due to some sort of ridiculous political correctness. But the younger the better is the rule. Although obviously over twenty-one.’
    All three of them set to work.
    ‘OK, I’ve discarded quite a lot,’ Lily said as her one pile became two.
    ‘Amazing how many people are in new relationships after forty.’ Abigail handed her pile over.
    ‘Terrible. It’s so, so wrong. No one in my novels starts relationships past the age of twenty-five. Right, well, that’s narrowed it down a bit,’ Anne-Marie said. ‘Lily, pour more drinks and we’ll continue.’
    Lily glanced at the piles of rejections and did as