‘You have.’
‘Yes. Can I borrow it?’ I asked eagerly.
‘What the video recorder?’
‘No, the tape of Sebastian. I desperately need a copy for work.’
‘Pop round tomorrow morning,’ she said airily. ‘We’re out to the Richardson’s for lunch. He’s a bloody bore but she’s a hoot. Daniel can let you in if we’re not about. Come on. Let’s get this lot done and then we can have a G and T.’
Great, another excuse to see him tomorrow. Just what I didn’t need.
* * *
Duty done, I headed out with a rug and a book to enjoy the late afternoon sunshine on the boundary. I avoided looking at the players, especially the one at the crease batting. So much for avoiding Daniel after today, but never mind. Once I’d got that tape it really would be the last time I’d see him.
I was happily relaxed, lying on my stomach, head propped on my chin, relishing the warm sun on my back when a cool shadow fell, blocking out the hot rays, disturbing my pleasant daydreams. Turning to look over my shoulder, my irritation dissolved as I realised it was Daniel. Even better, he was carrying a condensation-covered glass of wine along with a pint of lager.
‘Thought you might like one,’ he said, offering me the wine before settling down next to me. He studied me intently as Igratefully raised the glass to my cheek, enjoying the coolness against my hot face.
So much for keeping my distance; his tanned face was so close I could see the faint white lines around his eyes that had been missed by the sun. My mouth went dry.
‘Thanks.’ I looked over at the players on the pitch trying not to look directly at him. ‘Are you out? Sorry, I must have dropped off.’
He nodded. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him pulling a face.
‘Bad luck,’ I said sympathetically.
‘My own fault,’ said Daniel cheerfully. ‘Stupid bloody shot to play and it was a great catch.’
I risked looking at him and found his blue eyes were twinkling. Clearly being within an arm’s length of me wasn’t bothering him. I tried to ignore the skittering of my pulse, which seemed to have developed a pace of its own today. ‘How many did you get?’
‘You mean you weren’t watching every majestic stroke?’ he said with mock outrage.
I giggled. ‘No, remember me, chief sandwich-maker. Chained to the kitchen sink most of the day.’
‘Between gossiping with the whole village,’ he said teasing. ‘I saw you. We’re out there slaving over the wicket to bring home a triumphant win and the womenfolk can’t even be bothered to watch our heroic efforts.’
‘How many did you get, Hercules?’
‘Fifty-six. Not bad. We might just win. Mind you, your dad’s surpassed himself this year with that Aussie bowler.’
Another shadow appeared. Ben. Trust him. The original gooseberry. With a brief grunted greeting, Ben dropped down. His mood wasn’t great, he’d only scored a few runs before being caught out by a spectacular catch from Dad’s oldest teammate.Lounging next to me, he helped himself to a good glug of my wine.
‘Oy, get your own,’ I snapped. He would have to spoil the mood.
‘Oo, what’s bitten you,’ he teased in typical irritating-brother fashion. ‘Girls, eh?’ He tutted, looking at Daniel.
I glared at him. ‘You’re just a bloody scrounger. Go get—’
Ben just laughed and jumped up. ‘Stroppy mare. She just needs a good shag.’
I very nearly threw my wine at his retreating back. I could wring his bloody neck. Did he have to say that in front of Daniel?
‘I’m not stroppy,’ I smarted indignantly, watching Ben saunter across the field back to the pavilion.
I might as well have been talking to myself. Daniel had gone very quiet. He seemed distracted as he stretched out on his back, hands tucked behind his head.
Sipping my wine, I looked over at the players on the field, conscious of the silence. Daniel sighed. Then he sighed again. Opened his mouth and then closed it.
