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and doesn’t show on photographs …’
    ‘What, chemistry?’ Sian understood this. To her it seemed that good sexual chemistry was possibly a once-in-a-lifetime thing.
    ‘No, although of course you’re right about that. What I’m worried about is much more mundane.’ She paused. ‘Bad breath. Have you ever noticed how many older men seem to have it?’
    ‘I hadn’t, actually.’ Once again Sian marvelled at the way Fiona’s mind worked. She was wonderfully honest.
    ‘You probably don’t need to get near to many of them but I promise you, it’s a problem. And unless there’s some way you can drop “mouth wash” or “dental floss” into an email or chat on the phone without looking completely barking I’m not going to know until I’m committed to an afternoon of browsing antiques.’ She gave a rueful smile. ‘Shall we have another cup of tea?’

Chapter Three

    Rory walked along next to Sian, his hand in hers, singing to himself. They were both tired and dusty but had had a lovely time with Fiona. She had invited them to supper but Sian felt she should get Rory to bed.
    ‘We’ll just have scrambled eggs on toast and then get you into the bath,’ she said now, wondering if she had the energy to work after he was asleep. She needed to finish a piece of furniture but what with meeting Fiona, the flower-arranging, being introduced to Jody and Annabelle and checking out the barn she’d hardly had a moment.
    ‘Will you read to me?’ Rory asked.
    ‘OK, darling.’ Reading to Rory in the bath had started as a time-saving exercise but they had both come to enjoy it. Having first done the tooth-brushing, Sian would sit on the floor, leaning up against the bath, while Rory splashed around, getting more and more drowsy. When Sian judged the moment was right, she whisked him out with a big towel and popped him into bed. He quite often begged another story once he was in bed but was usually asleep before she’d finished.
    Tonight he was full of chatter about Fiona, Annabelle and the train set in Fiona’s barn. He was also thinking about going to the play scheme tomorrow.
    ‘Emily will be there, won’t she?’ he asked, squeezing a sponge full of bubbles.
    ‘Yes, and she’ll have helpers, because she’ll have more children. It won’t be just you.’ Sian wiped his face with a flannel. Relaxing bathtimes sometimes meant the washing part got overlooked.
    ‘And will they be girls?’
    ‘Who, the children or the helpers?’
    ‘The helpers. Helpers are always girls.’
    ‘They may not be. Emily might have got some young men to help now she’s down here.’
    Rory sighed. ‘I don’t think so. I don’t think boys look after children. I like boys.’
    ‘So do I.’ She paused. ‘Are you ready to come out now, darling? I’ve got a bit of work to finish and I’d like to get you tucked up.’
    ‘OK, Mummy,’ said Rory, resigned to there being no male carers and to going to bed. He did it with relatively good grace.
    Sian had been working with all the doors open to minimise the smell of paint and had just wrapped her paintbrush in clingfilm when her phone went. It was Richard. She remembered he was due back from a business trip.
    ‘Hey!’ she said. ‘Are you at home?’
    ‘No, but I’ll be back tomorrow. I just wondered how you were getting on?’
    ‘Fine! We’re nearly all unpacked. Mum helped quite a bit when she was here. And we’ve met a really nice woman. Fiona Matcham. Do you know her? She lives in the big house at the end of the lane. She seems lovely!’
    ‘Oh yes, she is lovely. I was at boarding school with her boys, but I haven’t seen her in a while. I’m not surprised she’s taken you under her wing. That’s just the sort of person she is.’ He paused. ‘And how’s Rory? Looking forward to tomorrow?’
    ‘Oh yes. He hopes there are boy helpers there.’ Then she wished she hadn’t said that. Richard felt that Rory needed an adult male role model and that he should be it.