window, Annie rolled her eyes. It did not require the services of a famous Belgian detective to know that Lydia must be referring to Jake Sinclair. She guessed his presence in the village would cause a stir – particularly amongst the single female brigade, over which Lydia reigned supreme.
‘I’ve no idea,’ she muttered disinterestedly. There was no way she was going to admit to Lydia that she’d already met Jake. To do so would be to subject herself to an interrogation of which any member of the secret service would be proud.
‘Well, I’m going to find out,’ resolved Lydia, tapping a long scarlet fingernail against her chin. ‘It’s a long time since a man’s had that effect on me, I can tell you. I wonder if it’s one of Mrs Coombes’s long lost relatives. Where did she say they were from again?’
‘Devon.’
‘Hmmm. He didn’t look very Devon-ish to me. He looked more … cosmopolitan. Like one of those really fit South African swimmers at the Olympics. I might go and bump into him – accidentally on purpose. Or do you think that’s a bit obvious?’
‘Possibly,’ sighed Annie. She really didn’t want to have this conversation. Or any conversation that involved Jake Sinclair. After the idiotic way she’d acted in front of him yesterday, she wanted to forget all about the man. And she had. She hadn’t given him a second thought until now. Well, that wasn’t strictly true. Perhaps she’d given him a second one. And a third. But by the tenth, she’d wised up. That thought, and any subsequent ones, had been batted away with all the aplomb of a world-class cricketer.
‘I know,’ piped up Lydia, ‘I could sprain my ankle. Right in front of him. That wouldn’t be too obvious, would it? Not in these heels. Mind you, I wouldn’t want to damage them. They cost a fortune. Still, might be worth it for just one night with a man like that. I bet he can do things that would make a girl –’
‘Good morning.’
At the sound of Jake’s deep voice from the doorway, Annie’s heart sank. So, too, did the limoncello cupcake she’d been holding. As she whipped around to face him, the cake landed with a splat, right on top of her sandaled foot. Lydia appeared no less startled. For the first time in the five years she’d known her, Annie detected a slight flush under the woman’s lashings of fake tan. Like a true professional, though, Lydia slipped effortlessly into character.
‘Good morning to you too,’ she purred, her voice dropping several octaves and taking on a strange husky quality. ‘And isn’t it a glorious one?’
‘It is,’ agreed Jake. He turned to Annie. ‘Hello again. Sorry for interrupting but I couldn’t resist a look in. Your window display is far too tempting.’
‘Thanks,’ muttered Annie, failing to quell the wave of pink stealing over her own cheeks, and desperately hoping he hadn’t noticed the squashed cake on her foot.
Jake strolled over to one of the cabinets which housed several large iced novelty cakes. ‘Wow. These are impressive. Very impressive.’ He turned to look at her, his mouth stretching into such a delicious smile that Annie’s insides dissolved to mush. Which was pathetic, she chided herself – on so many fronts. Firstly, the ability to make cakes was unlikely to impress any of Jasper’s friends, and secondly, whether he was impressed or not mattered little. She didn’t need Jake Sinclair’s approval. Using her skills and bags of initiative, she’d built up a very successful business over the last few years.
‘Have you made all of these?’ he asked.
She nodded. ‘Every one.’
‘Annie is our own little Nigella,’ tittered Lydia, whose presence Annie had almost forgotten. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me to your … friend, Annie?’ she asked archly.
‘Oh, yes. Of course,’ mumbled Annie. ‘Lydia, this is Jake Sinclair. Jake, this is Lydia –’
In a flash, Lydia’s teetering heels had her standing directly in front of Jake. ‘ – Pembleton.’ She extended an orange hand to him. ‘I used to be married to Darren Pembleton.’
Annie watched as Jake took Lydia’s hand and stared at her nonplussed. Due to the woman’s meaningful tone, the name was obviously meant to impress. By Jake’s baffled expression, it obviously didn’t. As if to confirm Annie’s suspicions, Jake cast her a questioning look.
‘Footballer,’ she mouthed.
He gave a subtle nod of gratitude.
‘When My Darren played for the Premier League I went to see one of his matches,’ continued Lydia, oblivious to Jake’s bewilderment. ‘I sat with all the other WAGs. Some of whom are very famous in their own right. Of course, I’m not one to name drop, but I’m sure you know precisely who I mean.’
‘Right,’ muttered Jake, evidently having no idea. ‘That must have been very … interesting.’
‘There was a picture of us on the front of the Daily Mirror,’ ploughed on Lydia, shaking back her straightened mane of overly-highlighted hair. ‘Not that I like to brag about it or anything.’
Jake raised his eyebrows to Annie.
‘So what are you doing in Buttersley?’ asked Lydia, still clutching his hand and running her tongue along her glossy bottom lip.
‘I’m staying at the manor for a few weeks. I’m an old friend of Jasper’s.’
Annie watched as Lydia’s perfectly made-up eyes grew wide. It was common knowledge that the woman’s unabashed and unrelenting attempts to wheedle her way into Jasper’s crowd always met with rejection.
‘How marvellous. Any friend of Jasper’s is a friend of mine.’ Her dazzling smile showcased two rows of ludicrously expensive dental work. ‘And if you’re staying a few weeks we’ll have to find something to occupy your time.’ She lowered her false lashes and shot him a knowing smile. ‘I’ve a few ideas already.’
As Jake extricated his hand from Lydia’s, Annie watched a cloud of something that looked suspiciously like horror settle over his handsome face. She wasn’t surprised. Lydia on a man-mission was more terrifying than a fortnight’s holiday in Gaza.
‘Now, is there anything you fancy in here?’ she asked, her voice dripping with innuendo. ‘Or should I take you around and introduce you to the other shopkeepers? Of course…’ she lowered her voice conspiratorially, ‘… I much prefer shopping in Harrogate myself but I do consider it my duty as a celebrity to be seen supporting local businesses. Someone once asked for my autograph outside the greengrocer’s, you know.’
Annie bit her tongue. That had been a case of mistaken identity. The old guy thought Lydia was one of the breakfast TV weather presenters.
Lydia linked her arm through Jake’s and steered him towards the open door.
‘Look, it’s very kind, but there’s no need. Honestly,’ he protested. ‘I’m perfectly capable of – ’
‘Let me show you what a friendly bunch we are here. Although, of course, some of us are friendlier than others,’ she chortled.
As they disappeared through the doorway, Annie released a long sigh of relief. Thank goodness he’d gone. She was far too busy for a distraction like Jake Sinclair today. She only hoped Lydia was kind to him. Even a man like Jake would be risking it walking into Lydia’s lair. Not that Annie cared. It made no difference to her what Jake got up to with Lydia. None at all. She was just thankful that he hadn’t noticed the squashed cake on the top of her foot. Now that really would have been embarrassing.
Three hours later, Jake arrived back at the manor completely exhausted. He could hardly believe what he’d just experienced. In fact, the idea even crossed his mind that he’d been set up. That there might be hidden cameras dotted about the village monitoring his every move because this couldn’t be