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‘Well, you’re most welcome up at the house if —’

‘Feeney lives in Bristol, darling. It’s a rare visit down this way to see an ageing aunt, isn’t it, James? And only coincidence we ran into each other.’

Harry looked away so no one could see him frown with consternation. Yes, indeed, lies were swirling around all of them, especially as he knew where James lived. It wasn’t Bristol any more.

‘Yes, sir. I . . . she . . . she’s rather frail.’

‘I’m sorry to hear it,’ Alex soothed. ‘Does she live in Harrogate?’

He nodded and Harry saw him swallow surreptitiously.

Matthew rescued him. ‘Did you say she lived in Starbeck, Feeney?’

James glanced at Matthew and Harry watched gratitude easing across his expression; quite obviously to Harry he’d never visited Harrogate or its surrounds previously. ‘Er, yes, that’s right.’

It was a smooth lie from Matthew but Harry wasn’t about to entangle himself in whatever deception was underway here. Alex wasn’t picking up on it and James’s business with her husband was not his. He recalled his moment of voyeurism, witnessing James embracing another man; he wondered what James’s game was. He would wait for this charade to play itself out, believing explanations would bubble to the surface.

‘So what are you two doing in Harrogate?’ Matthew continued.

Harry opened his mouth to give an explanation but Alex cut in with a silky response. ‘Mr Blakeney and I are on the most intriguing adventure, Matthew. Shall we remove ourselves from this drizzle and chill and I can tell you more? We were just heading across to Betty’s – won’t you both join us?’

‘Feeney was just leaving, darling. I was walking with him to the station, actually.’

‘Wanda seemed to know that too,’ she said as a way of lightening the awkward situation.

His companion shook his head. ‘You carry on, Mr Britten-Jones. It’s been a pleasure to see you again.’

‘All right, Feeney. I’ll, er . . . well, I’ll see you next time I’m in Bristol, no doubt visiting my family.’

‘Mr Blakeney, Mrs Britten-Jones.’ James nodded at them with a slight bow. ‘Please excuse me.’ He glanced at Matthew. ‘Goodbye, sir.’

Harry watched the vignette of guile unfolding and was now struck, as he observed Matthew lift his hat in polite farewell to his companion, that the shape of his head and even the sandy colour of his hair were reminiscent of the man at the window . . . the lover. He caught his breath in astonishment but before he could explore it further, husband and wife were turning towards him.

‘So, Blakeney,’ Matthew began as though they were old school chums. ‘Shall we share a pot of tea and you and my wife can tell me all about your Yorkshire adventure?’

__________

Convinced that Matthew’s subtle mind could read hers, could sense that her heart was pounding, her pulse racing to make her feel light-headed, Alex was grateful they did not have to queue. They passed quickly by the showcases of treats, treading swiftly across the chequered marble floor of the reception to the seat she found herself being eased into.

Betty’s was brimful with patrons, their noise a wave of murmurings that was punctuated by bursts of laughter, over which tinkled the clamour of silver cutlery against crockery, grey-blue china cups being picked up and put down repeatedly against saucers around the room. All the various sounds combined to become a lively yet harsh cacophony after the peace of the cottage. Questions about Matthew roared in her mind. What was he doing here really? She didn’t believe the story of coincidence for a moment. Was James Feeney really a former member of the family’s staff? They’d seemed friendly when she spotted them but then stiff during the introductions. She kept her queries silent, not wishing to drag Harry into them; they would be aired another time in private. For now there was more than sufficient awkwardness with her husband and her lover being seated either side of her. Alex tried to distract herself, sweeping a glance around the café to admire the mainly dove-grey decor teamed with blushing pink panels bordered in silver that echoed the heavy old silver electric candleholders that hung against the panels. Mirrors reflected the light from those candleholders and the tall arched windows.

‘Everyone happy here?’ Matthew asked. ‘It’s a bit cramped. We could move to the second floor, to the smoking room?’ he offered Harry, nodding his head in the direction of the sweep of stairs that disappeared above the dark wooded ceiling.

Alex watched Harry shake his head politely. ‘This is fine, thank you,’ he demurred.

‘All right, darling? You look a fraction pale.’ Matthew instantly fell into his most attentive mode. This is how he was – committed to her when they were together, yet like a stranger when they were apart.

She too shook her head, using the excuse of removing her gloves to withdraw her hand from beneath Matthew’s proprietorial touch. ‘I’m perfectly well. Just a little overwhelmed by the noise in here.’

‘It’s certainly a busy establishment. Gosh, that Belmont has done well. He’s minting money. I’ll bet he’ll open up all over the north before long with this sort of patronage. Our family should have invested when we first heard rumours of the Swiss gent looking for shareholders!’ he quipped, looking around at the tables laden with goodies and every inch of the place spoken for by eager customers. ‘We must have captured the last available seats.’

Alex glanced at Harry, who wore an expression of detachment. He’d withdrawn into that remote mood, speaking only when spoken to, like now as she saw Matthew return his attention to her companion.

‘So, Blakeney. I can’t have you dashing around Yorkshire with my wife on your arm without a valid explanation.’

Alex’s breath caught but then she saw Matthew break into a grin.

‘Shall we order first?’ Harry suggested, nodding at the waitress who had arrived to stand patiently alongside their table while they’d removed hats, coats, scarves and gloves to have the larger garments hung up.