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‘But what about—' I go on.

‘Sh.' He runs his hand through my hair and down to the nape of my neck. ‘I don't know how you do your job, helping all those babies into the world, when you know you can't have one yourself.'

‘Some days are easier than others,' I say, thinking of Adam and Rosie and their accidental pregnancy, and another mum-to-be who burst into tears because she didn't want twins. ‘I wouldn't have it any other way. I love my job.'

Later, when we've finished eating and watching the world go by with the sun setting behind the trees, I invite Lewis back for a coffee.

‘Or do you have to get back for the dogs?' I add with a smile.

‘They'll be fine for a bit longer,' he says quickly. ‘Your gran won't mind?'

It turns out that she's waiting up for me, dressed in a tatty pink dressing gown and fluffy slippers, and cleaning out one of the kitchen cupboards.

‘I'll make the coffee,' she says when she realises Lewis is here.

‘I'll do it. Lewis is my guest.'

‘It's no trouble,' she says, filling the kettle.

I didn't think you'd still be up,' I say, slightly irritated with her for not taking the hint and retiring quietly and tactfully to her room.

‘I can't sleep anyway.' She flicks the switch at the socket, turning it off rather than on.

‘That kettle won't boil like that, will it? Here, let me.' She looks at me much as Frosty does when I've told her off.

‘I wish you wouldn't keep doing things for me. I'm perfectly capable.'

‘I know. Why don't you go to bed and I'll bring your drink in for you?' I pause, waiting for this to sink in, and wishing I could rewind the clock because there was a time when she would have made herself scarce without me having to spell it out for her.

‘It's always nice to have company.'

‘Yes, but two's company and three's a crowd. And it's very late. You have to do the papers in the morning.'

‘I suppose I do need my beauty sleep. Goodnight, dear.' With a sigh of resignation, she shuffles away, without waiting for her drink or saying goodnight to Lewis, which in a way is a relief, but also a worry.

‘I thought your gran would have been up for a chat,' Lewis says when we're curled up on the sofa later. ‘Is she all right?'

‘Why do you say that?' I say abruptly. ‘She seems fine to me.'

‘No reason.' He shrugs then rests his head against
my shoulder, closing his eyes. I can hear his breathing deepen and my heartbeat quicken.

‘How long can you stay?' I whisper.

He opens one eye and grins. ‘As long as you like.'

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

When Needs Must

As Lewis has become part of my circle of friends, Kev invites him to join the stag party a couple of weeks before the wedding. Claire insists on seeing them off in taxis heading to the nearest city, Exeter, to hit the bars and clubs. She gives the boys a list of rules: no laxatives, no waxing, no permanent markers or tattoos. Murray folds it into a paper dart and aims it out of the window of his taxi while Lewis blows me a kiss.

‘You might as well have added “no fun” at the end,' I point out when she explains what she's done. ‘They won't take any notice anyway.'

‘They'd better,' she says. ‘I don't want anything to ruin the wedding photos. I don't want to have to do it all again because the boys have mucked them up, shaving Kev's eyebrows off or doing something equally disfiguring. Come on, let's go down to the Talymill Inn for something to eat.'

We've already had the her do – it was very sophisticated: afternoon tea at a posh hotel in Talymouth – and tonight is an opportunity to clear up any last-minute arrangements for the wedding. While we eat chicken and chips, she makes a list of people who haven't replied to their invites yet and writes a note in my diary to keep me available for an evening of making favours.

‘I'm not sure I'll be free,' I say.

‘Lewis will have to put up with it for one night,' Claire says, sounding slightly miffed. ‘Or he can come and help too.'

‘I don't think it's his scene.' I smile at the thought of him counting out sugared almonds and tying ribbons. ‘I'll see what I can do. Did you have the final dress fitting yesterday? You haven't mentioned it.'

‘I did – I took my mum with me.'

‘And?'

‘It's perfect. I thought they'd need to let the waist out just a little, but it's fine.' She sighs. ‘All we need now is for the boys to behave.'

‘Oh, they will. You worry too much. I thought we'd all agreed that what goes on on the stag, stays on the stag.' I stand up. ‘Can I get you another drink? I'm driving – as usual.'

A couple of hours later, just before eleven, when the landlord is ringing last orders, we head outside to find my car. A bat swoops down from the roof of the old mill and disappears into the darkness, making me jump, and then my mobile vibrates in my jacket pocket. I pull it out and check the caller ID, half expecting it to
be one of my colleagues or mums-to-be, but it's Lewis. Glancing towards Claire, I take the call.

‘What's up?' I ask.

‘We've lost the groom,' he says anxiously. ‘I was hoping he might have made his way to find Claire.'

‘Well, he hasn't,' I say, slightly annoyed.

‘What's happened?' Claire cuts in, trying to take my phone from me. I hang on so we're both listening in at the same time. ‘Lewis, what the —' she swears, ‘have you done with him? You can't just lose my fiancé.'

‘Don't panic. We're organising a search party – this place is crawling with police since Kev brought so many of his mates with him.'

‘This isn't a joke,' I say, seeing how upset Claire is. ‘How drunk are you?'

‘We've had a few. Kev must have had a couple of pints and a few shots – I haven't been counting.'

It's fair enough, I suppose. I don't like it, but it seems that you can't have a stag do without copious amounts of alcohol.

‘You were supposed to be looking after him,' I groan.

‘I know – one minute he was with us, the next he'd gone. Hang on a minute. Someone's seen him.' There's the sound of muffled conversation and a clunk, as if Lewis has dropped his mobile before he returns. ‘Some woman's just said she saw a man fitting Kev's description heading out along the bypass.'

‘Okay, I'll come and see if I can find him,' I say. ‘Claire's with me – she can come too.'

‘You'll be able to spot him fairly easily – he's wearing a dress.'

‘He wasn't when you left.'

‘We helped him get changed . . . into a wedding dress.'

‘Oh, very original,' I say, although I can't help smiling. ‘I'll see you later.'

We pick Kev up on the inner bypass in the city, where he's slumped at the foot of a lamppost in a veil, an ivory gown and torn stockings. His face is covered in pink lipstick. I jump out of the car, but Claire is with him first and I'm expecting her to yell and scream at him, but she stands there in front of him, leans down and touches his cheek, and bursts out laughing.

‘You silly sod. You can't even get through your own stag party.'

‘I'm sorry, darling,' he mumbles. ‘I wanted to come and see you.'

She holds out her hand and helps him up and into the car.

‘Let's get you home to bed, then tomorrow, nice and early, I'll set you up with a big greasy fry-up,' Claire flashes me a smile. ‘Thank you for this, Zara. Thank you for picking up the runaway bride.'

‘Yeah, except I can't run,' Kev says. ‘I'm bloody legless.'

‘You said it.'

‘I've been getting some funny looks,' he goes on.

‘Shut up, Kev,' Claire says. ‘I don't want to know. I'm just glad you're still alive, no thanks to the rest of the lads,' she adds, which reminds me to let Lewis know we've retrieved the lost groom when we arrive back at Talyton St George.

Fortunately, the other members of the party return safe and sound, although they suffer from mega-hangovers the next day, and Lewis apologises to both me and Claire. He also arranges to take me out for my birthday at the end of August, a week away.

Lewis whistles through his teeth when he comes to pick me up.

‘Hey, I'm not one of your dogs,' I say lightly, as this stranger in a white shirt, tie and dark trousers opens the door for me.

‘You look amazing,' he breathes.

‘Thank you.' I'm wearing a new dress with a wraparound top, which reveals just enough cleavage, and a fitted skirt which flatters my curves, and he can hardly keep his eyes off me as I settle in the seat beside him in the pick-up. ‘I hope you're going to concentrate on the road,' I say, flirting with him.

He kisses me and presses a small package into my hand. ‘Happy birthday, Zara.'

‘What is it?'

‘Open it and you'll find out.' His lips curve into a smile as I open the gift bag and pull out a small box, inside which I find a delicate silver chain. ‘I remembered that Daisy broke yours.'

‘Thank you, that's such a lovely present.' I'm touched, especially as it must have been worth at least a couple of ewes for his flock. I take the necklace out and hold it up to my neck.

‘Let me do that.' He takes over from me as I fumble with the catch. ‘There.' He lays the links of the chain flat
against my skin, stroking my collarbone and touching my throat at the same time, while I look into his eyes. They are soft with the shadows of the evening sun, and I can't resist kissing him, at which a horn sounds close by, making me jump.

‘Oops, I hit it by mistake,' Lewis laughs. ‘Come on, we'd better go before we make a spectacle of ourselves. People will talk. I hope you're hungry.'

I am now, I think, but not for food.

‘Emily recommended this place,' Lewis says, pulling up outside the Barnscote about fifteen minutes later. It's a well-renowned country hotel, centred around a medieval Devon longhouse built from cob and thatch, with climbing plants around the door.

‘This is where Claire's having her wedding,' I say.

‘Have you eaten here before?'

‘I had lunch with Claire when she was trying it out. It was lovely – but Lewis, are you sure? Dinner here costs an arm and a leg.'

His response is to get out of the pick-up and hold the door open for me. I shouldn't have raised the subject of money. It was tactless of me.

Elsa, the proprietor who breeds Happy Pigs as a sideline, welcomes us with non-alcoholic cocktails and shows us to a table in an alcove by a window in the dining room, where flowers cascade from a vase on the sill and a candle flickers in a cranberry glass.

‘I hope you have a wonderful evening,' she says after she's introduced us to our waiter for the night.

‘Hello, Adam,' I say, not giving anything away.

‘Hi.' His face reddens as he hands out the menus. ‘I'll be back to take your order.'

‘Adam's a hardworking young man,' Elsa says. ‘He's just done a shift for his stepdad on the farm, haven't you?'

He nods. I'm impressed because I suspect he's working all hours to support his baby when he or she arrives. He takes our orders and brings bread rolls and drinks while we're waiting for our starters.

Lewis's glass chinks against mine. ‘Happy birthday, Zara,' he repeats. ‘And, just so you know, I love being with you, and I have every intention of staying around a whole lot longer. Here's to the future.'

‘The future,' I murmur, as butterflies start fluttering in my throat at the thought that we're getting serious here.

‘What are we going to buy Claire and Kev for a wedding present?' Lewis asks. ‘I'll pay my share.'

I explain about the flying owl. ‘Claire left a wedding magazine at the surgery the other day, and I was having a flick through when I saw an article about having an owl to fly the rings down the aisle to the best man. It looked amazing and very romantic.'

‘I've got a mate from uni who's a falconer.'

‘I had my heart set on an owl.'

Lewis smiles. ‘He has a couple of owls. I'll ask him if he'd do it for a few drinks and a piece of wedding cake.'

‘That's great – if you think he'll do it.'

‘Will Claire appreciate this alteration in her plans for the dream wedding?'

‘I hope so. I've spoken to Kev and he's cool with it. He said he couldn't speak for his fiancée because she usually speaks for herself, but he thought it was a safe bet. I just want to do something really special for my best friend.' I correct myself. ‘For my best girlfriend.'

Once we've eaten, Adam brings the bill and chocolate mints.

‘Let's go halves,' I say. ‘It's only fair.'

‘No,' Lewis says rather sharply. ‘This is my treat.'

‘I'm more than happy to pay my way.' I'm glad I didn't offer to pay the full amount – he's really miffed about it. ‘I don't see why men should be expected to pay for everything.'

‘I know but, as I said, this is mine.' Lewis hands the plate with his card to Adam when he next comes by. ‘I wouldn't have done this if I didn't think I could afford it.'

I touch the chain at my neck. It's too much. I earn more than he does and will do for the foreseeable future.

The following morning we are in bed – strictly speaking the rather uncomfortable sofa bed in the annexe at the farm – with mugs of coffee on the side table. Lewis's dogs have been out for a quick run and now they're back snoozing in their beds. I gaze across to where Lewis is lying on his back, exposing the smattering of honey-gold curls across his chest. His lips are curved into a small smile and my heart tightens with happiness at the sight of him, my toy-boy . . .

Lewis opens one eye, turns his head and grins. ‘What are you looking at?'