Stolen Summer. Anne Mather

assured her firmly, and his mother pursed her lips.

      ‘Honestly, that girl is impossible sometimes,’ she exclaimed, after Sarah had left the room. ‘And you encourage her, Dickon. You know perfectly well she was not supposed to add that rider about having to run down to the village! If you wanted sausages, you should have asked for them. It wouldn’t have taken her more than five minutes to ride down to the stores on her bicycle!’

      ‘But I didn’t want sausages, Mother,’ Ben responded patiently. ‘I’m only having bacon because you insisted. Where is it, by the way? I don’t have all day.’

      ‘Oh—I’d better go and speak to Mrs Carr,’ declared Marsha, pushing back her chair, and before Shelley could prevent her, she had left the room once again.

      ‘You didn’t tell my mother about me giving you a lift yesterday, did you?’ Ben asked, as soon as Marsha was out of earshot, and Shelley made an involuntary gesture.

      ‘How could I? I didn’t know who you were,’ she reminded him, deliberately keeping her tone light. But her stomach was churning and she suspected he was not deceived.

      ‘Why not tell her just now?’ he persisted, watching the delicate colour invade her throat. ‘I assume she does know you snapped a fanbelt. She was very concerned about your whereabouts when I rang last night.’

      ‘I told her what happened,’ Shelley countered defensively. ‘And that I’d been given a lift into Low Burton.’ She tilted her head. ‘Why didn’t you tell her last night?’

      ‘Touché.’ Ben acknowledged her offensive with a wry smile. ‘For the same reasons you didn’t, I suppose,’ he replied softly. ‘I didn’t want to talk about it. Not then, anyway.’

      Shelley felt as if she was losing her grip on the conversation, and forcing a careless smile, she said: ‘I suppose we both took the easy way out.’ Dismissing the subject, she cupped her chin in her hands: ‘Marsha tells me you’re engaged to be married. How exciting! When am I going to meet your fiancée?’

      ‘Don’t patronise me, Shelley!’

      The sudden anger in his voice was unmistakable, and she pressed her hand to her throat in an effort to control the erratic racing of her heart. It was crazy to allow this situation to develop any further, and her mouth was dry as she reached for the pot of coffee.

      ‘Do you want some?’ she asked, hoping she would not spill it, but with a shake of his head, he got abruptly to his feet.

      ‘I’ll tell my mother I can’t wait any longer,’ he said, subjecting her to a devastating appraisal. He strode towards the door. ‘Oh—and Shelley——’This, with his fingers on the handle and his temple pressed against the jamb: ‘You’re nothing like my mother, so don’t act like her. And you haven’t changed. You’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen!’