“What difference does that make? I love David. Why would I want to be unfaithful? There’s more to life than sex.”
“Is there? Life would be very dull without it!” They continued to walk towards the field where Charlie the donkey stood chewing grass. “You’d want him if you weren’t married,” she added with a smirk.
“That’s irrelevant.”
“I’m not married and I want him. How did you find him?”
“He just turned up here one day with Storm. He found her in a field and brought her back.”
“What was he doing in the field?”
“I don’t know. Looking for a job!” On reflection it was all very bizarre.
“In a field?”
“He was on his way here. He’d seen my advert in town. Anyway, what does it matter? He’s a good gardener and that’s what counts.”
“He’s obviously not married. Divorced?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t know? Haven’t you asked him? Has he any children?”
“No.”
“What were his references like? Who was he working for before he came here? A grand English family no doubt.”
“I have no idea.”
“You didn’t check him out?”
“I didn’t need to. I sensed he was right.”
Blythe raised her eyebrows. “You hired him because he’s handsome. He could be a criminal on the run, for all you know.”
“I doubt it.” Miranda grew irritated. “Look, Blythe, I don’t care if he’s a criminal on the run or has three wives across different continents. He does a wonderful job here and he’s good company. I enjoy being around him. I don’t ask him about himself out of respect. I don’t want to pry.”
“You mean you don’t want to look too interested.”
“I don’t fancy him, Blythe!”
“Of course you don’t.” She gave a little snort. “But I do.”
“You’re unavailable.”
“I don’t know. My lover is about to dump me. Once he showered me with gifts, now he rarely has time for me. You know, I turned up at his office the other day in nothing but a fur coat and suspenders. He couldn’t resist me then.”
“You’ve got a nerve.”
“It was fun. I like taking risks.”
“Do you think he’ll leave his wife for you?”
“I don’t know.” She surveyed the estate and fantasized living here. It was an appealing thought. “At the beginning we couldn’t get enough of each other. Now, I’m not so sure. I don’t think I’m wife material anymore.”
“Have you met the wife?”
“Yes.” Blythe cast a sidelong glance at Miranda, relishing her secret.
“What’s she like?”
Blythe chewed the inside of her cheek as she pondered the best way to answer without giving the game away. She knew she was taking a risk even discussing it with Miranda, but there was something about Miranda’s perfect life—and perfect Frenchman—that made her want to burst one or two of her bubbles. “Nice,” she replied carefully. “I’m a bitch!” She gave a throaty laugh, then pushed her wrist out of her sleeve. “Look, this is what he gave me for Christmas.” Miranda looked at the Theo Fennell diamond watch and recalled the strange telephone call in December. Her stomach twisted with anxiety.
“It’s from Theo’s,” she observed.
“Yes. Isn’t it gorgeous? I’m loving the pink strap.”
“Is it engraved?”
“Yes. It says Big Pussycat on the back. Private joke. But that was Christmas. He hasn’t given me anything since,” she pouted.
Miranda took a breath. No, it can’t be. It’s just a coincidence, she thought, suddenly feeling nauseous. We’re not Theo’s only clients. Anyone could have bought her that watch. But her mind began whirring with possibilities. Was David Blythe’s lover? Is that why he spent so much time in London? Did Blythe, the friend she had known since school, have the malice to steal her husband? She glanced across at her, still watching the diamonds glitter in the sunshine, and concluded that it was impossible. If David were Blythe’s lover, Blythe would have kept the affair secret.
Once, Miranda would have shared everything with Blythe. They had occupied the same bedroom at boarding school, exchanged stories about boyfriends and tales of family strife, fought and made up as good friends do. But they weren’t schoolgirls anymore, and time had grown up between them, forming an invisible wall. The truth was that Miranda didn’t know Blythe as she once had. Their lives were no longer joined by shared experience. Apart from their children, they had little in common. Instead of communicating her fears, Miranda kept them to herself. She no longer trusted her friend.