in deck chairs, Hester in full sun and Robert in the shade of a pear tree, she filled their cups then sat back to enjoy the warm afternoon.
‘So what did you do last night?’ asked Robert.
‘I went out to Avecote to deliver a desk.’ Hester looked at his spare, relaxed frame consideringly, then gave him an account of Patrick Hazard, his novel, and his semi-unfurnished home, and included the meal she’d stayed to share, stressing the fact that her motive had been more in the nature of future furniture orders than to eat dinner with Patrick Hazard.
‘It sounds like a very interesting evening,’ said Robert neutrally. ‘Are you seeing him again?’
Hester nodded, feeling irrationally guilty. ‘Just once, anyway.’
‘Why just once?’ said Robert, and fixed her with a probing eye. ‘Is he married?’
‘No.’
‘Yet you say he’s interesting, and both clever and attractive. Is he gay?’
‘No, nothing like that.’
‘Then enjoy his company.’ Robert drank his tea tranquilly. ‘You’ve done wonders in this garden, Hester. The blossoms on that cistus are like a fall of snowflakes. Your hydrangeas look healthy, too.’
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