The Marriage Miracle. Liz Fielding

      ‘Once you answered the doorbell you had no choice.’ Perhaps realising that being smug wasn’t in his best interests, he quickly added, ‘You could never bring yourself to be that rude.’

      ‘I could,’ she assured him, ‘but I wouldn’t have been. I can do an excellent impression of Fran’s Greek live-in cook/housekeeper/nanny when I don’t want to be disturbed.’ And he surely disturbed her. ‘All mangled English and incomprehension. It works a treat on unwanted callers.’

      She found the corkscrew, opened the bottle and, grabbing a couple of plates, rejoined her uninvited guest.

      ‘You’ll find glasses in the sideboard,’ she said. ‘If it’s not too much trouble.’ Then, as he unfolded himself from the sofa and opened the cupboard, ‘What flat?’

      ‘Flat?’ he asked, setting out the glasses and taking the wine from her.

      ‘Fran asked you if you’d settled into the flat.’

      ‘Oh, right. Guy offered me the use of his old place until I find something permanent.’

      ‘His old place?’ Guy didn’t have an ‘old place’. ‘Are you by any chance referring to his former home in a luxurious riverside penthouse?’