a trilogy set in the Middle Ages.’
‘Wow. Have you done lots of research? Are you doing research at the moment?’
The embarrassment returned.
‘I had to do lots for the medieval stuff. I came to history relatively late on. I’ve spent most of my spare time over the past ten years reading anything I could get hold of about the twelfth to fourteenth centuries.’
‘Twelfth to fourteenth. That would be before the Tudors and the Stuarts, wouldn’t it? That’s about all the history I did at school.’ She sounded interested.
‘A fair bit before. Henry VII was the first of the Tudor line. If I remember right, he came to power in the 1480s, after the Battle of Bosworth Field. No, my period covers the Crusades, the Cathars, Knights Templar. I suppose we’re talking about a couple of hundred years earlier. To be honest, most of my research has been on French history. I’m not that well up on England.’
‘Who were the Cathars, again?’ She screwed up her face and tilted her head to one side, as she struggled to remember. Even with her face screwed up, she still looked amazing.
‘Southern France in the 1200s. They were wiped out by the Catholic Church. Their beliefs were branded as heretical.’
‘“Branded as heretical?” Why do you say that? Weren’t they heretics?’
‘They called themselves “Good Christians”. Their views were unorthodox, but not deserving of genocide. They believed in the duality of God –’ He stopped himself in time. ‘I’m sorry, unless you are very careful you’ll still be here tomorrow morning, with me droning on. So what about you? What sort of writing do you do? Wait a minute, let me guess. You’re a fashion journalist. Am I right?’
To his surprise, she nodded. ‘That’s what pays the bills, and lets Sophie and me live down here in the country six days a week.’
He noted that she only mentioned herself and the dog.
‘For fun, I write whodunits. At least I’ve finished one, and I’m thinking about the next. But tell me, how do I get hold of these books of yours?’
‘Not on the shelves, I’m afraid. I’ve been beating my head against a wall for years, trying to get somebody in the trade to read one of them. Every time I send off a synopsis I get the same reply: “I’m afraid” – ’
‘“Your work is not suitable for our list.”‘ Clearly this was something else they had in common. ‘“But this does not mean to say that another publisher or agent or whatever won’t find your work appealing etc. etc.” Signed by a girl called Fenella or Lysistrata. Tell me about it. I’ve been there too.’
He changed the subject in case she asked him what research he was currently undertaking. ‘So you spend six days here each week. What about the seventh?’ He really wanted to know with whom she spent the seventh.
‘I’ve got a little place in London. Sophie and I take the train up most Sundays. If all goes well, we are back on the train again on Monday evening. Although I work from home most of the time, I like to keep up personal contact with my editor. I wouldn’t want her to forget me.’
‘I can’t imagine anybody forgetting you in a hurry.’
If she heard what he said, she gave no sign. ‘Of course, during spring and autumn collection time, I’m away a bit more. But I love Devon, and can’t wait to get back down here. And dear old Soph loves it to death.’
‘So when are you off to the bright lights again?’
‘Well, my editor is on holiday in the Caribbean, so I haven’t been up to London this week. I imagine I’ll be off on Sunday.’
‘So you will be here on Saturday?’
‘I certainly will.’
‘If you’ve nothing better to do, perhaps you might let me buy you dinner to say thank you for the tea and the shelter?’ Asking a woman out was something else he hadn’t done for quite some time. He suddenly found himself feeling quite unusually nervous.
‘Dinner in return for a cup of tea seems a rather unfair trade. But, if you are sure, I’d love to.’
He felt his spirits soar. But, no sooner had he registered his delight, than a sense of guilt had him questioning whether he was doing the right thing. It was too late now, he supposed. He cleared his throat.
‘Wonderful. Now I think the rain has passed for the moment, so I’d better make a break for freedom. Pick you up at seven thirty on Saturday?’
She nodded. Upon opening the door, they found Sophie the spaniel and a soggy Labrador squeezed together on the old armchair that served as a dog bed.
Somehow, neither of them chose to comment.
‘Come on Noah, let’s head for home before it gets too dark to see.’
Chapter Six
Nine thirty. All three kids were finally in bed. Tiffany could relax.
‘What’re you reading?’
She passed the letter over to him. ‘It came this morning. You remember that funny advert I replied to?’
He took it from her. It was addressed to Mrs Tiffany Rossi. Luca read it with interest.
‘So, are you going to send him a thousand words?’
‘I thought I’d give it a go. All I’ve got to do is to decide what period of history, what place and what sort of sex to write about. What do you think?’
He looked across at her. She was a fine looking woman. He reached across the back of the sofa and encircled her shoulders with his arm. She snuggled up against him.
‘Sex? Not sure if I can remember what that is.’ He was only half-joking.
‘Mmm. It has been a while, hasn’t it?’ She reached up and kissed his cheek.
‘I think you could have a lot of fun with this, Tiff. In fact, we could both have a lot of fun doing this.’ He kissed her ear and scratched his fingernail against the side of her breast. ‘You’ll need to do lots of research, you know.’
She laid her hand on his thigh and started a gentle stroking movement. ‘Do you think the kids are asleep?’
‘After swimming, a fifth birthday party and football practice, I should bloody well hope so.’ He pulled himself to his feet. ‘Of course, just to be on the safe side, I could stick a chair under the door handle.’
As he came back to her, he peeled off his jumper and shirt. She loved the way his black hair grew in a line down the middle of his chest, disappearing into the waistband of his trousers. He had put on a few pounds but he was still the very handsome man she had married. She reached out to him.
‘So what kind of sex have you got in mind, signora?’ His hands were undoing the buttons of her blouse.
‘For
