hit you in the eye! She’s the black lace thirty-two E I sold him that day. Adam told me.’ Lowri grinned as she stored salad in a plastic container. ‘Mind you he’s got someone else on the go, too. He bought the same things in angel blush, thirty-six C.’
‘Typical! Next week he’ll probably be back for more of the same in two quite different sizes.’
‘Why do men go unfailingly for sexy underwear, I wonder? Does Rupert?’
Sarah nodded. ‘Pretty pointless, really.’
Lowri eyed her cousin curiously. ‘Why?’
‘Because the minute a man sees you decked out in that stuff he wants to take it off, of course!’
Lowri blushed to the roots of her hair.
Sarah eyed her narrowly. ‘Ah! You’ve already discovered that for yourself.’
‘Only once.’
‘Not a happy experience?’
‘No. My social life was pretty uncomplicated up to then, just enjoying dates with blokes I’d been to school with, and one or two men I’d met through my job. Then disaster struck. I got emotionally involved.’
‘What happened?’
‘Not a lot. The object of my affections forgot to mention he was married, the pig. It put me off men for a while. And since I’ve come up to London I haven’t met anyone at all.’ Lowri smiled ruefully. ‘I hoped I would, to be honest. But so far the streets of London aren’t exactly paved with eligible males eager to buy me romantic dinners.’
‘Oh, dear, oh, dear, we’ll have to do something about you,’ said Sarah, the light of battle in her eye. ‘I’ll ask Rupert—’
‘No, you won’t,’ interrupted Lowri promptly, ‘I came up to London to manage my own life, remember. Let me have a go at it for a bit on my own, please, Sal.’
Sarah patted her cheek. ‘Sorry—interfering again. Come on, let’s drag Miss Thirty-two E into the garden for some cricket.’
But Fiona refused to budge, too careful of her hairdo to set foot outside the conservatory. Sarah and Lowri left her to her magazines and went to join in some energetic fielding while the menfolk batted, bowled and kept wicket in turn.
‘How about you, Lowri?’ asked Adam, offering the bat to her. ‘Fancy your chances?’
‘I don’t mind having a try,’ she said demurely, and let him show her how to grip the handle correctly. She winked at Dominic, who grinned from ear to ear as Adam jogged down the lawn ready to deliver a nice, easy ball to the beginner. Rupert, hunkered down behind her to keep wicket, smothered a laugh as Lowri danced down the wicket to the tame delivery, smashing it away into the shrubbery with a perfect forward drive.
Adam stared, open-mouthed as Dominic raced to retrieve it. ‘I see, I see,’ he said ominously, scowling at Lowri. ‘Having me on, were you?’ He put up a hand to catch the ball then came sprinting down the wicket in earnest, letting fly a full toss which Lowri swiped over his head with ease to wild applause from the four Clares. She dealt with his three successive deliveries with equal disrespect, until she grew careless and lofted a ball which Dominic sprang up and took spectacularly with one hand, winning concerted applause all round, loudest of all from the bowler.
Adam came sprinting towards Lowri, his eyes hot with accusation. ‘Don’t tell me that was beginner’s luck!’
‘Nah!’ said Dominic scornfully. ‘Her Dad’s captain of the village cricket team where Lowri comes from. He taught her to play cricket when she was littler than Emily.’
‘No son, you see,’ said Lowri apologetically. ‘Dad had to teach his skills to me. Not,’ she added, ‘that I get to use them much.’
Adam grinned. ‘Did he teach you to bowl, too?’
‘Only tame medium pace stuff.’
He handed her the ball. ‘Right. Come on, then.’
‘It’s my turn to bat,’ pointed out Rupert, aggrieved, as Adam took his stance in front of the wicket.
‘Later—I want my revenge first!’
But Adam, swiping mightily at the third ball Lowri delivered, sent it straight through the window in the coach house office in a hail of broken glass, bringing the match to an early close.
Astonished by the howls of laughter from her hosts, Fiona burst from the conservatory to hurl recriminations at Adam, winning her deep disapproval from Emily, who slid a small comforting hand into his large one in consolation as he apologised profusely.
‘Don’t worry—Mrs Parks can type in the conservatory tomorrow,’ said Rupert, clapping him on the shoulder.
With promises to settle the bill for the damage, Adam took reluctant leave, prompted by a petulant reminder from Fiona that they were expected for dinner elsewhere that night. Despite her urgings he took his time in parting from Dominic and Emily, even contriving a private word with Lowri while Fiona went upstairs to make unnecessary repairs to her face.
‘For a pint-sized lady,’ he said, his eyes glinting, ‘you pack an almighty wallop, Lowri Morgan.’
‘It comes in useful from time to time,’ she admitted demurely.
‘For beating off importunate lovers?’
‘Not too many of those around,’ she said candidly.
Adam Hawkridge shook his shiny brown hair back, frowning. ‘Why not?’
‘I wish I knew,’ she said without thinking, then regretted it as she saw the gleam in his eyes.
‘It’s not personal preference, then? You don’t have anything deep-seated against my sex?’
‘Not too deep-seated, no,’ she said warily.
‘Splendid.’ He smiled and shook her hand. ‘I’m very glad Sarah invited me here today. Goodbye, little cousin.’
Lowri, pressed to stay for supper once the others had left, accepted with alacrity. She helped Emily get ready for bed, read her a story, then gave Sarah a hand with the meal, which Dominic was allowed to share before he too went off to bed and left the other three alone. Lowri found herself listening with shameless avidity when Sarah and Rupert discussed Adam Hawkridge’s future destiny as they lingered over coffee round the kitchen table.
‘A bit of a playboy, our Adam,’ mused Rupert, ‘but a brilliant electronics engineer just the same, with a definite flair for marketing. He’ll fill his father’s shoes very ably—far more than his brother would have done.’
‘Rupert was in school with Peter Hawkridge,’ explained Sarah.
‘I often spent part of the holidays with his family,’ added Rupert. ‘Adam was only a kid in those days, of course. Can’t be much more than early thirties even now. He’s packed such a lot in his life that one tends to forget his youth.’
‘Why
