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point in spending all that money for someone else’s benefit.’
    Now the drinks table was loaded with fine wine – far too much, considering the number of people who had shown up, but Matt McCarthy would not have it said that he was a mean host. And a little lubrication smoothed business contacts. He knew that as well as anyone.
    ‘See the old man buried, did you?’
    ‘Someone had to make sure he wasn’t going to get back up.’ He handed Mike Todd, the local estate agent, a large glass of red wine.
    ‘Is Derek here yet? I imagine he’ll want to talk to me about putting it on the market once probate’s sorted out. Got to tell you, the plot might be fantastic but it’s going to take deep pockets to sort out the old wreck. Last time I was in there was . . . four years ago? And it was falling apart then.’
    ‘It’s not in great shape, no.’
    ‘What’s it say over the gate? Cave ? Take care, is it? Sounds about right to me.’
    Matt leaned in to him. ‘I wouldn’t hold your breath, Mike.’
    ‘You know something I don’t?’
    ‘Let’s just say you might be marketing this property before you look at that one.’
    Mike nodded. ‘I’d suspected as much. Well . . . I can’t say I wouldn’t find yours an easier commission to earn. Think there’s a few more in the market for a house like this. Did you know our area’s been named in one of the Sundays as the next property hot spot?’
    ‘You’re going to be busy, then. But you’ll do me a good rate?’
    ‘I’ll always look after you, Matt, you know that. In fact, let’s have a chat later. There’s a woman put an offer in on that barn conversion behind the church. She’s going to need an awful lot of work doing and I told her I might know just the man. Thought we could both make it worth our while.’ He took a long slug of his drink, and smacked his lips. ‘Besides, if you’re after doing up that old wreck, you’ll need all the money you can get.’
    It was surprising how many more people turned up to the funeral tea than had for the service, Laura mused. Out of the window the sky had cleared and she could almost smell the musty scent of the woods. She had walked the dog there earlier, and even in September you could detect the subtle change in the air that heralded the approach of autumn. She hauled her attention back to the fruit cake, which sat on a tray in front of her on the work surface, ready to go into the front room. If their guests settled in, as they seemed to be threatening, she would be playing hostess until well past dusk. That was the thing with small communities. They all led such isolated lives that they tended to leap on any event and milk it for all it was worth. At this rate she’d have to get the Cousins to reopen the village shop for her.
    ‘All right, beautiful?’
    Matt’s arms were round her waist. He had been lovely this past week, cheerful, relaxed, attentive. Much as she felt guilty to admit it, Mr P’s death had been a blessing.
    ‘Just wondering how long before chucking-out time,’ he murmured.
    ‘The old ladies may need taking home soon. Mrs Linnet’s gone all silly on her third gin and Mrs Bellamy’s snoring on a pile of coats upstairs.’
    ‘They’ll be making passes at the Cousins, next.’
    She smiled and put a cake knife on to the tray. Then she turned so that she was facing him. He was as handsome as the day she had met him. The weathering of his face, the lines that spread from the corners of his eyes, only made him more attractive. Sometimes she winced at that; today, filled with wine and relief, she just felt glad of it. ‘Everything’s going to change now, isn’t it?’ she said.
    ‘Oh, yes.’ He bent to kiss her, and she let her hands slide round him, feeling his familiar shape against her, the tautness of muscles primed by hard work. She thought she had probably never held him close without feeling an echo of desire. She kissed him back, feeling a brief, reassuring sense of possession