Sowing Secrets. Trisha Ashley

what do you think?’ Carrie asked eventually.

      ‘I think your intelligence-gathering resources are impressive, and you are secretly a mole for the CIA,’ I said.

      ‘Did you see the second paternity claim?’ Nia said. ‘That must have knocked him for six, even though the poor woman was delusional and he’d never as much as met her.’

      ‘Yes, but it did sound like he’d been having an affair with that woman in the first paternity case, even if the baby turned out not to be his, so he doesn’t come out of this entirely white as the driven snow, does he?’ I shuddered. ‘Just imagine if I’d suddenly discovered who he was and popped out of the woodwork with a paternity claim too! But he doesn’t know about Rosie, and he never is going to know about Rosie – and nor is the press, so that’s that!’

      ‘Yes, but what if Plas Gwyn does get chosen for the programme?’ Nia asked. ‘Don’t you think he might recognise you?’

      I pondered. ‘I don’t think so, do you? One night, one woman among many – probably one in every place he stopped! And I’ve altered a lot after all these years. I think women change much more than men do.’

      They looked at me consideringly.

      ‘He can’t have met many girls with long hair the colour of faded candyfloss,’ Nia said.

      ‘But even my hair is much less strawberry and more just dark blonde now that I’m older, and it’s a whole lot shorter.’

      ‘I still don’t think you do look much different from how you used to,’ Nia said obstinately. ‘Your face is a bit plumper, but still heart-shaped—’

      ‘A fatty little heart.’

      She gave me a repressive look. ‘And now you regularly have your eyelashes dyed you don’t have that startled-rabbit look you used to have when you forgot to put your mascara on, but that’s about all that’s changed.’

      The eyelash tint is my one beauty extravagance, but very effective. I have smallish, neat features otherwise, nothing remarkable.

      ‘You have very lovely big grey eyes,’ Carrie said kindly.

      ‘With lovely big crow’s feet. No, I can’t believe I’m so memorable he will recognise me, but if Plas Gwyn wins the makeover, I’ll make sure I’ve got my head covered at all times and wear dark glasses, OK?

      ‘The whole village will think Mal’s been beating you up,’ Nia objected.

      ‘They certainly will. Well, this is really fascinating,’ Carrie said, ‘but I’ll have to go. Shall I leave all the stuff for you to have another look through?’

      ‘No, thanks,’ I said, bundling it back into its bag, ‘I think I’ve got it all by heart.’ Then I hesitated. ‘Perhaps I could borrow the book for a couple of days, though?’

      ‘OK,’ she agreed, ‘if I can have the DVD in exchange?’

      She went off home – she gets up early most mornings to bake – and later Rhodri came in. Even though he was wearing cord trousers and a battered lumberjack shirt, the landlord fawned over him like he was royalty; he simply can’t understand why the local gentry should want to hang out in the back parlour with us peasants.

      His old jacket smelled foul; I don’t know what they do to them, but on rainy days the entire waxed Barbour jacket brigade stink like wet tents whole flocks have lambed in.