Tamsin leaned back against the headrest of her plane seat. She hadn’t slept well and hoped to catch up on some much-needed rest, although her prospects for doing so didn’t look promising. The chattering of middle-aged ladies, some of them with a nice tan on their faces, wasn’t conducive to a power nap.

She’d asked for the window seat so she could at least stare outside—if she looked to her right, she would see Diane sitting at the other end of the three-seat row.

Diane.

All through the night, Tamsin had asked herself the same question: why had she said that silly thing about the solo trip? It had flummoxed them both to the extent that Diane had barely finished her glass of wine.

For the life of her, Tamsin couldn’t figure out why those words had left her mouth. She liked Diane, there was no denying that. But not like that. Diane was as far removed from the type of women Tamsin usually fell for as could be. Moreover, she was a prominent member of her new club. And a heterosexual divorced accountant. Sure, she could be in that phase of her life where she might be questioning certain aspects of it—like so many women before her, and the many that would follow—but Tamsin wasn’t one to exploit that kind of vulnerability.

She might fall for what most of her friends and family dubbed ‘the wrong kind of woman for her’ at regular intervals, but at least Tamsin didn’t have a penchant for falling for supposedly straight women. Even though her father certainly wished she were, Ellen had decidedly not been straight.

Of all the thoughts floating through her mind after a successful first trip away with the RTGC ladies, a tipsy—because surely she must have been?—flirt with Diane Thompson was the last thing she’d expected. But what had been more unsettling, was that Diane had flirted back. There was an energy between them, a magnetism that drew them to each other, made them seek out each other’s company in a group—although Diane sitting in the same row as her was a coincidence.

Tamsin gazed out of the window. They’d left the white beaches and blue waters of Portugal behind and were cruising above a carpet of clouds, which meant that Tamsin couldn’t see much of anything. But it was better than looking to her right and seeing Diane.

She couldn’t afford to screw up another job because of something like this. What had happened with Ellen was bad enough, but still easy enough to recover from. If something like that happened again, however, she’d be stuck with a reputation she’d never be able to get rid of—and she could kiss her golf pro career goodbye.

Tamsin closed her eyes. Sleep wouldn’t come, but she would use all the mental energy she had left to squash any thoughts of her and Diane. There was no such thing. She wasn’t even attracted to her.

Tamsin would have given anything to get off the plane right there and then. She needed a few days on her own to sort out her thoughts—and herself. Long walks through the forest near her cottage with Bramble. A few hours spent restoring that old desk she’d bought a few months ago but hadn’t done anything with yet. Maybe another Tinder date… with someone who was her type. Yes, that was what she needed. She started planning the next few days in her head in great detail, just to have something to hold on to while her mind was in turmoil. Bramble. Forest. Desk. Tinder. She repeated the words in her head like a mantra so she didn’t have to give in to the urge to look to her right—and catch a glimpse of Diane.

Some of the ladies’ husbands had volunteered to pick them up at Gatwick airport, squeezing the single women—and their bulky golf bags—into their cars. In Barbara’s case, her sister Camilla was fetching her and offered Tamsin a ride.

Goodbyes were said and Tamsin found herself being drawn into hug after hug, some stiff and forced, others generous and warm, until the only person she hadn’t said goodbye to was Diane.

“Are you all right?” Diane asked. “You don’t quite seem your jolly self today.” She spoke as though the previous night hadn’t happened.

“Just the end-of-trip blues,” Tamsin said. “Back to reality and all that.”

“It was rather a nice getaway, wasn’t it?” Diane winked at her.

Tamsin was at a loss for words but, nevertheless, thought she should say something. She wasn’t the kind to let sleeping dogs lie, and have this unease fester inside of her. She wanted to leave it here, at the airport, so she could move on. And set up another Tinder date.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?” Tamsin took a few steps backwards, although privacy in an airport arrivals hall would always be too much to ask for.

Diane followed her. “Something wrong?” she asked.

“About last night,” Tamsin said. “It’s important to me that you know I wasn’t trying anything. I wouldn’t. I mean, it wouldn’t be right.” Tamsin cursed herself for her lack of eloquence.

Diane emitted her loud squawk of a laugh. “Well, you can stop worrying then. The thought hadn’t even crossed my mind.” She patted Tamsin on the upper arm, quite a condescending gesture—or was it defensive?

“Good.” Tamsin tried a smile, although she was pretty sure it didn’t much look like one.

“You gave all the others one.” Diane threw her arms wide. “My turn now for a hug.”

Tamsin stepped into her embrace, uneasiness and something else—something she couldn’t quite put a finger on—bubbling inside her.

Diane’s hug was by far the warmest she’d received today, and she drew her in much tighter than any of the other ladies had.

“Call me to set up that appointment,” Diane said, after they broke from their hug. “To do your books.”

“Will do.” Tamsin watched her saunter off. As usual, Diane was stylishly dressed in pleated trousers and matching blazer. Who even wears clothes like that on a plane? But of course, the inane question only served to mask the continuing turmoil in her mind.

The first thing Tamsin did when she arrived home, was leave again. She got into her car to pick up Bramble at the kennels where she had reluctantly left her chocolate Labrador.

Bramble was elated to see her and nearly bowled Tamsin over with enthusiasm. She’d take her for a good long walk and promised herself to not leave her dog for four consecutive days any time soon.

As she walked through the forest, rejoicing in Bramble’s obvious delight, she thought about what Diane had said. “Call me to set up an appointment.” Before Diane had added that it would be an appointment to go over Tamsin’s books, Tamsin had, again, for a split second, believed Diane had meant something else. Maybe because, deep down, it was what she’d wanted to hear.

Bramble rushed towards her, a battered tennis ball in her mouth. She dropped it in front of Tamsin’s feet, who promptly threw it in between the trees to her left. Bramble bounded off again, leaving Tamsin alone with her thoughts. Why did Diane always appear to be a part of those?

They’d shared a few glasses of wine, a few laughs—Diane had such an infectious, raucous rumble of a laugh—and a couple of locked glances. So what?

Yet, no matter how far she walked with Bramble, penetrating deeper into the forest, not caring how long her walk home would take after what had already been an exhausting day of travel, Tamsin kept hearing Diane’s voice, kept being reminded of that cheeky twinkle in her eyes when she’d confided in Tamsin about her boarding school same-sex kissing dalliance.

After she’d taken a long, hot shower, and was lying with her feet up on the sofa, a glass of wine in reach, Tamsin grabbed her phone. She had to do something to quench this malaise, this uprising in her blood. She had to go on a date. Preferably a date with a happy ending, although Tamsin wasn’t really the type for that. She and Ellen had been going out for more than a month before Tamsin had allowed anything further to happen. She liked to be sure of her feelings, and the other person’s feelings as well. But tonight, she didn’t care about feelings. Tamsin was a woman in her prime, in good shape, with healthy urges. She hadn’t expected a trip with a dozen ladies in conservative golf outfits to trigger this need, but there she sat, finger poised over her phone screen, ready to open the app.

She tapped and went into the search settings first. At least she wasn’t going to make the mistake again of looking for someone too young. She was just scrolling, anyway. Swiping left, until she felt compelled to swipe right. She adjusted the age selection to up to thirty-seven—wasn’t that a good compromise?—and the location selection to a twenty mile radius around Tynebury. Frankly, she wasn’t expecting anyone to come up. But, through the marvels of modern technology and humankind’s hunger for connection, Tamsin was presented with a surprising number of women seeking women.

Now all that was left was finding someone who tickled her fancy. Her thumb was just beginning to cramp up from swiping left all the time, when she came across the face of an agreeable-looking woman. She had short brown hair, a warm gaze in her brown eyes, and a pleasant smile on her lips. Tamsin liked the look of her—and that was really what it was all about with a shallow app like this. Before she could change her mind, she swiped right and hoped for the best: a return right swipe.

Now all she could do was wait.

She glanced at Bramble, who was lying on the rug as though she’d promptly fallen over, and reached for her glass of wine. She’d barely taken a sip when her phone chimed with a notification.

She picked it up again and saw it was from Tinder. Things were looking up.