The next day, someone bid six hundred pounds on Eleanor's TV and picked it up two hours later, leaving me with a handful of crisp twenty-pound notes. I celebrated by taking the bus into town and buying silicone sealant to fix the leaky edges around the bath. My life was just one big party.

A party with no food, because in the evening, I put my freshly made lasagne into the oven and it refused to turn on. Wonderful. Did anything else want to go wrong?

I shoved the lasagne dish into the freezer and pulled on my coat. With the money I'd made, I could just about afford to risk my taste buds at The Cock and Bull again and wash anything dodgy down with a glass of Prosecco.

I'd expected the place to be quiet like last time, but the car park was full and cars overflowed out onto the grass verge, and even outside, I could hear music and the low hum of voices. A chalk sign outside the door gave the game away—I'd forgotten it was Wednesday. I perked up a little. Hadn't Warren said the food was at its best during the weekly curry night?

"How does this work?" I asked a passing waitress who was balancing more plates than a circus performer.

"Pay a tenner at the bar, then grab a plate and help yourself to as much as you want."

"Where's the food?"

She jerked her head towards an archway on the far side of the room. "Through there."

The space looked packed, but I spotted an empty stool at the bar and decided to stop there for a drink first. I'd been on my feet most of the day.

"What can I get you?" Jean asked.

"Lime soda, please. I can't believe how busy it is tonight."

"People come from miles around. The chef used to work in Brick Lane, and his Indian dishes are to die for."

Brick Lane? How I missed London's premier destination for a curry. That explained the crowd, although I wasn't sure I wanted to follow in Aunt Ellie's footsteps and pop my clogs in Upper Foxford.

"Settling in, are you?" the man next to me asked, and I stifled a groan as I recognised Floyd from the supermarket.

At least I'd made the effort to use his shop so he couldn't moan, although on the last two occasions, I'd been served by a teenage girl more interested in her phone than the customers.

"I'm gradually getting the place sorted out, but it's slow going."

His animal-like chuckle would have scared small children. "Aye, I heard about the mess. Planning a bonfire, are you?"

"I wasn't, but now you mention it..."

"Thought that was why you had what's left of a couch dumped in your garden."

"I put it out there because I found out Aunt Ellie died on it."

"I heard that rumour too." He turned to bellow across the room. "Oi, Graham. Is that true?"

A red-faced man made his way over to us, clutching a pint like it was a life preserver in a turbulent sea. His gait rolled from side to side as if he were on board an invisible ship.

"What was that you said, Floyd?"

"Is it true old Eleanor Rigby died on her couch?" Before Graham could answer, Floyd explained, "Graham's our local policeman. Mrs. Rigby caused him no end of paperwork—isn't that right?"

"I'm not supposed to talk about that." Graham tapped the side of his nose. "Official police business."

"But this is Mrs. Rigby's niece, Olivia. It's only right that she should know what happened to her aunt."

Graham still didn't look convinced, so Floyd attempted what I assumed was supposed to be a smile. "Can I get you another pint?"

"Floyd Peterson offering to buy someone a drink? Wonders will never cease." Graham waved Jean over. "Another pint of bitter, young Jeanie, and put it on this gentleman's tab."

Floyd's plan worked. The alcohol soon loosened Graham's tongue, and once he started talking, he couldn't stop.

"Got the call at eleven on Monday morning when the postie spotted her through the front window, and that was a shock, let me tell you. Nothing much ever happens around here."

"Don't normally have much in the way of work to do, eh?"

Graham glared at Floyd. "I worked that day, all right. We had to break the door down to get in, and she was all swelled up in the lounge. Never seen anything like it. She wasn't small before, but I swear she was twice her normal size. Took six men to carry her out."

By then, a small crowd had gathered, and everyone grimaced at his words.

"But she was on the couch, though?" Floyd asked.

Graham's eyes struggled to focus. "She was. Propped up in front of her computers. The screen was frozen on one of them, and she played her last poker game just before midnight the previous Friday. She lost her gamble with God, didn't she?"

He laughed at his own joke while someone else muttered, "With the devil, more like."

Another voice piped up. "She'll be feeling the heat now alongside her husband and son. Bad apples, the lot of them."

Had Eleanor really been that awful? I considered asking what she'd done to upset so many people, but in the end, I decided against it. No point in reminding people that we were related, and besides, she was dead. You shouldn't speak ill of the dead.

No, a subject change was in order. "Well, it looks like the queue's gone down. About time I got some food. Can anyone recommend a dish?"

Twenty voices spoke at once, suggesting everything from a mild korma to a blow-your-head-off phall, and I made my escape into the next room to scoop aloo gobi and rice onto a plate. Finding a table presented my next challenge, but everyone seemed to be sharing, so I gingerly sat at the end of a large group who all seemed to know each other.

After a few mouthfuls, I understood why The Cock and Bull was packed. The delicate mix of spices burst across my palate, and I might even have moaned.

"That good, huh?" the guy next to me said. "Always good to hear a woman moan, although I'd rather she was underneath me while she did it."

Inappropriate much? The speaker was a man not much older than me, and an arrogant smirk tugged at his lips.

I shuffled my chair an inch or two farther away. "The food's tasty, yes."

"I can see something else that's tasty."

He ran his fingers up my arm, and I shuddered. He wasn't ugly, but his slug-like qualities weren't offset by the Ferrari key casually tossed next to his plate.

"Please, just let me eat."

"Oh, I will. I like a woman who knows what to do with her mouth."

I almost suggested he look for his type of woman on a street corner, but Mother would have turned in her grave. Instead, I tried another sideways shuffle and accidentally bumped into a brown-haired man standing next to me.

"So sorry. I didn't see you."

"Is he bothering you?" the newcomer asked, motioning at the sleaze.

"Uh..." Don't offend the new neighbours, Olivia. "Maybe just a little."

"Henry, leave the lady alone."

"She was enjoying it, weren't you, sweetheart?"

Delusional as well as slimy? "Not really."

My saviour took a step closer. "I'm not going to tell you twice. I'll have you thrown out if you keep harassing her."

Henry shoved his chair back and elbowed his way through the crowd, earning himself more dirty looks and a few muttered curses as I looked up at the man who'd come to my aid.

"Thank you."

"Don't mention it. Henry's got a nasty habit of behaving that way. You must be new around here—all the other girls in the village avoid him like the plague."

"I've been here for almost three weeks now."

"Well, it's nice to meet you. I'm Tate."

I forced myself to meet his eyes, and very nice eyes they were too. A pale blue, twinkling to match his smile. "Olivia."

"From Lilac Cottage?"

"How did you know?"

"News travels fast around here."

"I'm beginning to get that. So, you live in the village?"

"Not this one. I'm from Middleton Foxford."

"That's only a couple of miles away, isn't it?"

He nodded. "Just under two by road. If you cut across the fields, it's a little closer."

"Is it as big as Upper Foxford?"

"Slightly larger. Upper and Lower Foxford are about the same size, but because Middleton Foxford's in between them, more businesses have tended to gravitate there. So, we have the library, the doctor's surgery, and more restaurants."

"Perhaps I'll venture over there when the weather's warmer."

"Why wait?"

"I don't have a car at the moment." At the moment—that sounded better than admitting I wouldn't be purchasing one for the foreseeable future.

"How about I pick you up one day? I can show you around both of the other villages, and we could stop for lunch on the way back."

Lunch? Was he asking me out on a date or just being friendly? I couldn't tell from his expression. Should I accept his invitation? It seemed like only yesterday that I was eating out with Edward, and I wasn't sure I was ready to step out with another man, platonic or not.

But then again, I felt terribly lonely...

Tate picked up on my indecision. "Relax, it's only lunch. There aren't many people our age around here, and we've got to stick together. The WI ladies hunt in packs."

A giggle bubbled out, unbidden. Apart from Warren and Daisy, most people I'd met were my parents' age at least, and Yvonne had already hinted I might like to join the committee of the WI to "bring in some new blood." Yes, I wanted to fit in, but I didn't have the time to organise the summer craft show and I was terrible at flower arranging.

And while I may not have planned on meeting a man in Upper Foxford, when an admittedly handsome one was standing right in front of me in a Ralph Lauren button-down shirt that showed a certain amount of taste, it seemed rude to turn down his offer. What did I have to lose? I certainly didn't want to spend the rest of my life alone, and at the very least, I could use another friend.

"In that case, I'd love to join you one day."

Tate tapped his number into my phone then called his, and before he headed off with a group of friends, he promised to message me to arrange a time to suit both of us.

"Nice to meet you," I said as he turned to leave.

"The pleasure was all mine."

Okay, so that line was a little cheesy, but the smile that accompanied it was genuine. I left The Cock and Bull with a matching grin of my own, frantically cataloguing what was left of my wardrobe as I hurried home. I couldn't go out with Tate dressed in jeans and a faded jumper. Oh, if only I'd kept hold of a few of my nice dresses.

"Need a lift?"

I'd been so preoccupied I barely heard Warren approach in his taxi. Spots of rain dotting my decidedly non-waterproof jacket made the decision easy.

"Thanks so much. It's so dark without any street lights here."

"You should get a torch to carry in your handbag."

"I'm sure Aunt Ellie's left one in the cottage somewhere."

"Or just call me. If I'm not working, I'll give you a ride."

He'd already said that, but I'd feel guilty calling him out when I couldn't afford to pay. "It's kind of you to offer."

Lilac Cottage was dark when we pulled into the driveway, and I wished I'd been able to leave a light on, but the electricity bill would be painful enough already.

Warren drew to a smooth halt outside the front door. "Let me give you my number, just in case."

Just in case. That couldn't hurt, right? I handed my mobile over for the second time that evening and waited while Warren did his thing.

"You've met Tate, then?"

Oops. Warren must have seen the number in my messages. Was it me, or did his voice hold a hint of jealousy?

"Just now, in the pub. He helped me out when Henry was bothering me."

"Henry's an idiot. And Tate..."

"What about Tate?"

"Never mind." A long pause followed, but Warren still had my phone. "Look, I don't suppose you'd be interested in going out for dinner with me one evening?"

Now that... That definitely sounded more like a date-type question, and damned if I didn't consider it. Warren was the boy next door versus Tate's distinguished gentleman, and after Edward, a down-to-earth man did present an attractive option. But I still wasn't ready for that.

"Uh... The thing is, I just got out of a long-term relationship, and when I moved here, I decided I'd try the single life for a while."

"Can't blame a guy for trying, right?"

"No, I guess not."

"How about lunch someday? Just as friends. You can never have too many friends."

Another man, another lunch, and Warren had been so kind to me. Besides, the way he spoke, it didn't sound as if he meant tomorrow or even this week. "Lunch would be lovely, someday."

After I closed the door behind me that night, I leaned back against it and closed my eyes. So much for staying single—I'd gone from no men to two I quite liked, and that made me more nervous than anything else.

Boy, did I need to talk to Maddie.