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cellphone, untied her uncomfortable top and stretched out lapping up more glorious sunshine. In a while she’d go down to the verandah and take the working surgeon a refreshing cold drink.
    At the insistent buzz she leapt to her feet, wiping her hot face with a tissue and reaching for her bikini cover.
    ‘Your lemon, sir!’ she proclaimed happily, setting jug and glasses on the low rattan table beside Mr Harland's chair. He was talking into his Blackberry again and apart from a nod of the head Ellie might as well be invisible. ‘Book him in for surgery in a week’s time,’ she heard him say. ‘Thanks Flora. Bye.’
    The dark handsome head was bowed in concentration; secure, mused Ellie dryly, in the knowledge that no call to wait on some woman or see to a meal would interrupt his precious time. It was a man's world all right; for a woman to succeed she must deal with all the mundane tasks and double her efforts if she wanted a career as well. It was bitterly true you had to be twice as good as any man to make your mark.
    She attempted a diversion. ‘This is paradise!’ She dropped into the plump cushions of a cane basket chair, sighed in ecstasy, let her shirt fall open and stared innocently up into the sky. Rafe didn’t so much as glance up, entirely preoccupied with the forthcoming paper to be presented at an international congress of specialists
    There wasn’t a cloud in sight - just the winged shapes of birds darting back and forth against the brilliant blue of the skies. Although the place seemed silent, Ellie was always alert to the myriad little sounds of the countryside. Up on the farm a donkey brayed and the air was full of tiny insects going about the day’s business. A gecko shot up the verandah walls and stayed there, keeping a beady eye on the two giants below. A persistent wasp settled on the edge of Rafe’s lemonade glass and he flicked it away with a casual finger, taking a long draught and seeming oblivious of Ellie and her deliberately provocative pose.
    ‘The bougainvillea’s just amazing,’ she exclaimed, ‘I must send Mum a photo.’ She held up her mobile and clicked on the camera app. It was the perfect excuse to take a photo and cleverly get Mr Big into the shot. He wasn’t listening anyway - wouldn’t even notice what she was up to.
    Suddenly the little grey cat stepped daintily out of a clump of scented geraniums, her precise movements stirring the frilly leaves to release a waft of peppermint into the air. ‘Hello Puss!’ exclaimed Ellie, making kissing noises and stretching out a hand. But it was Rafe the little cat wanted, running to his side on long thin legs and purring happily. Absentmindedly Rafe tickled its ears and stroked the dusty grey fur. The little animal headed indoors.
    ‘Oh no, none of that,’ he commanded. ‘We don’t want you in the house.’
    ‘I’ll see to it,’ sighed Ellie. heaving herself out of the cushions she padded on bare feet to close the French doors. ‘Now Miss Moggs, you 'eard what the master did say, you'm to stay out 'ere in the cold, cold snow.’
    No reaction from Rafe. Not the glimmer of a smile. ‘No sense of humour,’ thought Ellie gloomily. ‘I don’t like that in a man.’ A strange restlessness was taking hold of her. She knew she shouldn’t try to distract him, that she was treading on dangerous ground by trying to get his attention. And she really didn’t need to ask to permission to go in the pool…
    ‘Would you mind if I swim?’
    No answer.
    ‘It’s so hot! I could do with a swim.’
    ‘Hell’s teeth, woman, what’s the matter with you!’ he said suddenly, throwing down his pen and looking up in irritation - just in time to catch her stripping off Jon’s fraying shirt to reveal a white halter-neck bikini she was saving for best, her one extravagance, bought from Harvey Nichols a few days before leaving England. It had looked particularly flattering in the changing room mirrors. Now Ellie wasn’t so