The sound of clapping drifted over to Diane as soon as she stepped out of her car. She locked it and walked out of her office car park. Instead of turning towards the entrance to the building, she headed for the village green, from where the cheering was coming.

Tynebury Spring Festival was one of the highlights on the village calendar. Part village fête, part flea market, it always brought together the villagers for a friendly baking competition and some trading of whatever had not survived the yearly spring clean. It even drew visitors from the surrounding villages.

Diane headed for the adult refreshment stall. Thompson & Partners always sponsored the stall by supplying the wine.

It was not even noon yet, but the few high tables that were set up under a gazebo were already packed with people enjoying a glass of wine. Thompson & Partners coasters were laid out on every table and Diane had found that this event always brought in one or two new clients. Apparently wine and accounting went pretty well together.

“Good morning, Stacey” she greeted her receptionist, who was manning the stall. “You’re busy this morning.”

“We’ve been swamped ever since we opened,” she said. “Would you like a drink?”

“It’s a bit early for me to start on the vino.” Diane peered at the list that was displayed on the bar. “I’ll have a sparkling grapefruit juice for now.”

Stacey handed her the drink and Diane took it over to one of the tables to mingle. Even in a small village like Tynebury, networking was important.

She was in conversation with a local insurance broker, who brought in quite a bit of business for her, when she spotted a familiar figure browsing the second-hand book stall across from the bar.

Tamsin was examining paperback novels, taking one out, reading the back cover and putting it back in the display box.

Another woman came up to her, holding a larger book and showing it to Tamsin. They stood close together, shoulder to shoulder with their backs to Diane. Their laughter drifted over to her.

Was Tamsin out on another date already? She hadn’t mentioned anything at dinner the other night. Maybe it hadn’t been set up yet.

Or maybe Tamsin had sensed that Diane was not that interested in hearing about her dates. She would have been right about that, even though Diane could not really explain why. Or rather, she could, but was not ready to put it into words, even in her head.

The two women seemed quite close, much more so than people should be on a first date. So maybe it wasn’t a first date, but a third or fourth.

How come Tamsin hadn’t talked about someone she was seeing? The dinner had only been a week ago. Surely they could not have grown so close in such a short space of time.

Stop this, it’s none of your business. Diane tried to tune back into the conversation between the two men standing next to her. Something about an insurance settlement after a house fire.

Her gaze was drawn towards Tamsin and her friend again. The other woman had turned slightly and Diane could see her face more clearly. She had very similar facial features to Tamsin, but her hair was different—longer and blonder. This must be the sister Tamsin had talked about.

Relief washed over Diane.

She thought back to last week, to the goodbye she and Tamsin had shared in the hallway of Tamsin’s cottage, to the feeling of warmth and closeness that had engulfed her. And then she had gone and kissed Tamsin. Her mind had been lucid enough to go for her cheek, but in her heart, she knew that what she’d really wanted was to kiss Tamsin’s lips.

What would it be like to feel Tamsin’s lips on hers? She could still remember vividly the kiss she’d shared with Fiona decades ago, but somehow she knew that with Tamsin, it would be different. Less tentative, more passionate. She could almost feel Tamsin’s mouth opening, their tongues meeting.

“Diane, what do you think?” A voice snapped her out of her reverie.

“Ehm, sorry,” Diane said. “What were you saying?”

“Should the council grant the building permits for the new apartment block on Prairie Lane?” The insurance man was looking at her expectantly.

“I, er, I don’t think they should,” Diane said. “Will you excuse me, please?”

She stepped away from the table and walked over to the bar. It might still be early, but she could sure do with a glass of wine to wash away the images floating around her mind.

An hour later Diane was finishing her third glass of wine, now in the company of Isabelle, who had showed up determined to make a healthy contribution to the charitable causes the fete was supporting.

“Shall we have a wander around?” Isabelle had asked when she’d arrived. “I quite fancy some lemon drizzle cake for dessert tonight. And I spotted a vintage mirror that would fit perfectly in the guest room.”

Diane had kept an eye on Tamsin and her sister, not wanting to have to face them in her current state of confusion. They had been browsing the stall manned by the local post office clerk, looking at her offerings of garden gnomes and other trinkets of doubtful taste.

“Let’s have another drink first,” Diane had replied, hoping Tamsin would have left by the time they finished their wine.

Isabelle had regarded her before saying, “All right. But just the one. You seem to be quite lubricated already.”

Diane drank the last sip from her glass. She was experiencing a pleasant buzz, enhanced by the sun that had come out to bathe the village green in a beautiful spring light.

She scanned the assembled tents and stalls. Tamsin and her sister were nowhere to be seen. “Let’s go for a browse.” She took Isabelle’s arm and they walked out towards the cake stall.

“The ladies of Tynebury have been very busy this year,” Isabelle said, looking at the display of intricately decorated cakes. Each one was on some sort of arty display or pedestal, ready to be judged for the event’s most coveted prize.

Diane’s stomach rumbled at the sight. “Shall we get a slice to nibble on as we walk around?”

They each bought a piece of lemon drizzle cake and continued their exploration of the festival’s offerings.

“How are Rob and Matthew?” Diane asked.

“They’re fine. Looking at other clubs in the area where being gay doesn’t disqualify you from joining.” There was obvious bitterness in Isabelle’s tone of voice.

“Have you found out more about why Matthew was refused membership?”

“Stephen gave me a line about all available spots being taken by direct family of members, children and grandchildren, and that he should apply again next year. It’s a load of crap, of course. The committee’s stuck in the nineteen-fifties, that’s what the issue is.”

Diane thought for a moment. “Should we start a petition or something? Surely we can get a lot of prominent members to sign on. Everybody loves Rob and he’s been a part of the club ever since he was born.”

“I suppose we could,” Isabelle said, “but I don’t think it would do much good. They’ll say they can’t be prejudiced, since they just hired a gay pro.”

This comment brought Tamsin to the front of Diane’s mind again. Should she tell Isabelle about the feelings she’d been experiencing? Maybe her closest friend could give her some perspective and snap her out of this ridiculous infatuation.

“Speaking of,” Isabelle exclaimed and pointed towards the end of the row of stalls.

Diane looked over and saw Tamsin and her sister walking towards them. Damn.

“Tamsin, hello.” Isabelle kissed Tamsin on both cheeks. “We were just talking about you.”

“I thought I could hear a ringing in my ears,” Tamsin said. “Only good things, I hope.”

Diane tried to think of something to say, but her mind was fuzzy from the wine and sun.

“This is my sister, Eve,” Tamsin said. “Eve, these are two of the ladies from the golf club, Isabelle Avery and Diane Thompson.”

Eve’s gaze seemed to zoom in at the mention of Diane’s name.

“Hello,” Eve said, shaking Isabelle’s hand. Then she took Diane’s hand in both of hers and said, “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Diane noticed how Tamsin’s elbow bumped into her sister’s arm. Eve let go of Diane’s hand.

The power of speech still seemed to be eluding Diane. She knew she was supposed to reply something, but she just stood there in silence and nodded.

She felt Isabelle staring at her. “What’s the matter, Diane? Cat got your tongue?”

“Sorry.” At last, some words made it past Diane’s lips. “I think I shouldn’t have had that last glass of wine. I seem to have lost my manners.” She addressed Tamsin’s sister. “It’s lovely to meet you, Eve.”

Diane’s gaze drifted back to Tamsin. She looked exquisite in a light blue fitted oxford shirt over a pair of dark jeans. She forced her eyes back up to the golf pro’s face. “How are you, Tamsin? I’ve had another look at the documents you brought me last week. It seems pretty straightforward. You should make an appointment to go over everything. Maybe next week?” Stop babbling, she told herself.

Tamsin was looking at her in amusement, as if she could sense the turmoil going on inside Diane. “Sure, I’ll call your office on Monday.” She held Diane’s gaze, until they heard a cough come from Eve.

Tamsin turned to her sister. Eve was giving her some kind of look and Diane saw her head nudge forward ever so slightly, seemingly in encouragement.

After another second or two Tamsin turned her head back to Diane and said, “Or maybe you could come over to mine for dinner again. I think I forgot to bring over some receipts. We could go over them with a glass of wine.”

Diane’s heart did a little tumble at the invitation. “That would be lovely, thank you.” Diane’s gaze moved down to Tamsin’s mouth and again the thought of their lips meeting engulfed her. She tried to steer her mind towards her calendar for the coming week, but she drew a blank.

“I’ll be in touch on Monday to set it up,” Tamsin said, as if she could sense Diane’s bewilderment. “We have to get going now. Bye, Isabelle.”

Diane watched as Tamsin walked off with her sister. As they disappeared around the end of the aisle, Diane’s eyes turned back to Isabelle, who was looking back at her with her mouth agape.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Diane asked defensively.

Isabelle’s eyes narrowed. “You’re acting very strange, Diane Thompson. If I didn’t know you better, the way you were giving her googly eyes, I’d think you have the hots for Ms Foxley.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Diane waved off the suggestion. “As I said, too much wine, too early in the day.” She grabbed hold of Isabelle’s arm again and started walking. “Now let’s go check out the flea market. Didn’t you say there was a mirror you were interested in?”