.

business.’

      ‘My own business?’ Tess stood up and laughed shortly, swinging her bag over her shoulder. ‘Bloody hard to, when all I can hear is you two having sex when I’m trying to read in bed. I’ve had to buy earplugs!’

      ‘No, you haven’t,’ Adam said, but he looked a little fazed. ‘We’re having a great time. I really like her, what’s your problem?’

      There was something ridiculous about him, standing holding the kettle, with the thin silk clinging to his legs, his tall, broad frame, as his hair stuck up comically on his head. A wave of fury washed over her, that he thought it was OK. That they both did.

      ‘My problem?’ Tess yelled. She shook her head wildly. ‘My problem is I moved back here for some peace and quiet, and there’s no fucking coffee in the jar before you look, because you two bloody drank it all, and there’s no food in the fucking fridge because you’ve eaten it all, and when I’m trying to watch bloody Antiques Roadshow all I can here is you two, bellowing “Yes! Yes!” at each other, like you’re watching a football match!’

      Adam looked at her, as she took a deep breath and was silent, and he started laughing.

      ‘Or—anything,’ Tess said weakly, glad the tension was broken. She was being ridiculous. ‘You know. T4 and stuff. The Wire. Anyway, Antiques Roadshow is really good, I’ll have you know.’

      ‘Clearly,’ Adam said, shaking his head, still laughing.

      ‘Last week, they had a pensioner on it.’

      ‘No. Amazing.’

      ‘And she had a teapot Josiah Wedgwood designed himself. Himself.’ Tess nodded significantly. ‘It was worth over a thousand pounds. And that lady can now buy a new walk-in bath, for her husband Roger.’

      ‘To think you once played strip poker with the under-eighteens Hampshire cricket team,’ Adam said ruminatively.

      ‘Sshh.’ She drew a circle around her with her finger. ‘Remember. It’s in our—’

      ‘—circle of trust,’ he finished. ‘Sorry, I forgot about our circle of trust.’

      They were both silent for a moment, and then Adam said, again, ‘Antiques Roadshow.’ Tess watched him, arms folded. Adam had a big, deep laugh, that seemed to take him over completely.

      ‘Hey,’ he said, eventually. ‘I’m really sorry, Tess. I should have thought about you more in this. It’s just—she’s great.’ He smiled. ‘I really like her.’

      ‘I know you do,’ she said, pleased for him. ‘Look, I’m just popping out to get some food and stuff—’

      ‘I’ll come with you,’ said Adam. ‘Seriously,’ he added, as she looked at him in disbelief. ‘Francesca’s fast asleep and I need a new battery for the bike lamp, too. Give me five minutes. I’ll just jump in the shower.’

      ‘Er…OK,’ said Tess. Adam grinned.

      ‘Look pleased!’ he said. ‘I’ll give you street cred, Granny.’

      As they walked along the high street, Tess carried her wicker basket over her arm. Adam shook his head. ‘I worry about you. You’re turning into someone from Cranford. My godmother Diana doesn’t have one of those, and she’s…older than you. Plus they’re completely unwieldy.’

      ‘O tempora, o mores,’ Tess said tartly and then regretted it.

      ‘You think Cicero was saying we should give up plastic bags and use wicker baskets, do you?’ Adam asked, innocently. ‘Don’t show off your Latin with me, Tess. You know you’ll lose.’

      Adam’s brain was a source of mystery to Tess; he never forgot anything, a quote, a story, an obscure piece of syntax. She taught Latin and Greek, and she often couldn’t remember the word for ‘ship’ in either language. But she could remember what happened one summer ten years ago as if it were yesterday, or Stephanie’s wedding, or Will’s face as he told her he loved her for the first time…Adam, she knew, had trouble remembering his own birthday.

      It was curious, that tension that existed within him. She looked at him sideways as they walked along the street, he whistling, his hands stuck deep into his pockets. It was Roman, she supposed. Brilliant, practical, organized, neat—and yet chaotic, hopeless, romantic, kind at the same time. It was strange, she thought, that she, Tess, was now her teacher, and Adam, with all his brilliance—Adam was…what was he? She blinked, recalling herself to the present.

      ‘Er, I’m a bit sick of the deli. Cheese shop?’ Adam said, pulling her out of her reverie. She smiled at him as she spotted Liz putting a leg of ham back in the window of Jen’s Deli and looking up at the little high street in the sunshine. She waved at her.

      ‘Stop it,’ said Adam.

      ‘Oh, get over yourself,’ Tess said. ‘She’s in my class.’

      ‘Your class?’ said Adam.

      ‘Yes, absolutely,’ said Tess. ‘She’s pretty good actually. She’s coming to Rome. I’m part of her self-improvement programme. Just like you were,’ she added wickedly. Adam frowned as the bell sounded another lucky customer entering Mr Dill’s Cheese Emporium. ‘What do we need?’

      ‘Well.’ Tess tucked the basket—Adam was right, it was unwieldy—under her arm and counted off on her fingers. ‘Stuff for tonight. Stuff for our trip to the beach tomorrow. Hi, Andrea!’ She waved at Andrea Marsh, who was crossing the road.

      ‘Your window boxes are looking lovely,’ Andrea told her, but unwillingly, as if it cost her to do so. ‘Just going to see Miss Store, and I noticed them. Are they pansies?’

      ‘Yes! So glad you like them—agh!’ Tess swallowed, as a car drove past and Adam bodily dragged her up onto the pavement.

      ‘For God’s sake, be careful, T,’ he said, crossly.

      ‘See you at the meeting later!’ called Andrea, walking on.

      ‘Yes, absolutely,’ Tess called after her. ‘You going to that tonight?’

      ‘What?’ Adam said, looking back across the road. He was squinting at something. ‘Oh, the meeting? No, don’t think so.’

      ‘But everyone’s going,’ said Tess.

      Adam nodded solemnly. ‘Who’s everyone?’

      ‘Well, you know.’ Tess waved her hands. ‘The people at the college—apart from Leonora Mortmain, of course—um, Ron, Suggs, Francesca—’

      ‘No, she’s not,’ said Adam. ‘We’re staying in and watching a film.’

      ‘But Adam—’ Tess remembered how curious he’d been about the campaign, the night of the first campaign meeting. ‘Suggs is organizing it. It’s going to be—’

      ‘Look how local you are these days,’ he said, mocking her. ‘Remember your first day back here, when you scorned the high street? Look at you now. Practically in bed with all the important people in town.’

      Tess ignored him. ‘Adam, we should all go—’

      Adam held up his hand. ‘I’m not going. Sorry. Let’s get some cheese. And then let’s argue about it some more.’

      ‘I’m not arguing,’ Tess said, even more patiently than he. ‘I am merely pointing out that—’

      She swung the wicker basket behind her, as a soft male voice said, ‘Ouch.’

      Tess froze, and looked up at Adam, who was gazing over her shoulder as if he’d seen a ghost.

      ‘Hi—God. It’s you. Forgot your name, sorry,’ said the voice.

      ‘It’s Adam,’ he said, and stepped a little closer towards