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“Oh, and vegetable.” I laughed, noticing the cucumber.

“Ealing only have one man left and they have another three overs to play,” Lulu observed. “Perhaps we won’t have to sit through all twenty-five overs if we can get the next two out. Dylan will join us for a break then.”

I nodded, not paying attention.

Was Tristan really urging me to come home? Or was it my imagination?

How confusing.

How could I ask Dylan to leave? He was in the middle of a game.

Two balls later, it was all over for the batting side. The small crowd of onlookers applauded politely. If nothing else, cricket was polite.

Dylan ran over to see us.

“Hi,” he said, smiling, but his smile faded.

I stared at him anxiously. What can I say?

“You bought her a Pimm’s?” He frowned with disapproval at Lulu.

“Don’t start,” Lulu snapped.

“Oh, please don’t fight about me,” I barked, surprising them both.

Yeah. I can be assertive.

“It’s just one drink, Dylan. Stop overreacting and having a go at Lulu.”

He raised his eyebrows but said nothing. Lulu looked surprised and pleased, if not a little smug, at my support. He sat down sulkily between us like a small boy, and I fought the urge to laugh at him… at both of them. They were still sniping at each other, and they had been getting on so well in France.

I sighed. “Would you like a cold drink, Dylan?” I reached into the cool box.

“Please,” he answered.

“How is the game going?” I asked, trying to lighten the mood.

He relaxed a little. “Good. They’ve only scored fifty-five runs. We should be able to beat that,” he said.

“Lulu’s been helping me with the rules, as I’ve never watched cricket before.”

“How are you finding it?” he asked.

“Honestly?”

“That bad, eh?” He grinned. “This is the last game of the season, so you’ll be spared for a while.”

“Phew!”

He laughed. “You seem happier today. What’s with the secret little smile?” He cocked his head to one side, far too interested in me for my liking.

I felt my face redden and stared at my fingernails, uncertain what to say. I’m hooking up with the ghost you don’t believe exists in your house didn’t seem to be the opening salvo for a conversation on a picnic blanket at a cricket match in Ealing.

“Leave her alone, Dyl. It’s great that she’s happier today. I think France did you the world of good, Emily,” Lulu interjected.

I nodded, pleased she’d come to my rescue.

Dylan eyed the two of us in turn and took a swig of his Diet Coke and smiled to himself.