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another one Clare hadn’t met before. He was small, not more than five foot eight, with faded mousy hair and a rather feeble attempt at a beard, but his rather ordinary face was redeemed by his dark blue eyes. They were wide-set and shone with a luminosity that lit his whole face, and when he smiled, as he was doing now, he had an endearing quality that made Clare like him at once.
    â€œSays she’s going to have a house sign made,” he laughed.
    â€œHe’s very easy-going,” Maddo had told her mother. “Never gets stressed about anything. Should be an easy guy to live with.”
    â€œProvided he does his share,” murmured Clare.
    â€œYes, well, we’ll all have to do that,” agreed Madeleine. “I must say his room’s usually a tip, but that won’t matter if he keeps his door shut.”
    â€œAnd if he doesn’t leave the same tip in the kitchen,” said her mother.
    â€œHe won’t.” Madeleine spoke in the long-suffering voice she kept for simple-minded parents. “He’ll be fine, OK?”
    Clare looked across at the last of them. Ben was obviously older than the rest, not just in years, but in experience. Clare thought him attractive. He was a big man, tall and broad with powerful arms, and Clare supposed if she could have seen them, powerful legs as well. She knew from Madeleine that he was a rugby player, and looking at him she could well believe it. He was good-looking, too. Not in a classically handsome way, but with a strong face, with deep-set dark eyes and a firm mouth and chin. He wore his thick, dark hair long, tied back in pony-tail, though wisps of it curled forward round his ears. Clare was only gradually coming to terms with men who wore their hair in pony-tails, she always felt that it was rather effeminate, but there was nothing effeminate about Ben Gardner. The strength of his face was echoed in the strength of his body, he seemed charged with a masculinity that Clare could almost touch. She wondered if Maddo was as aware of it as she was. There seemed to be nothing but friendship between them, and of course Maddo had Dan, but Clare knew if she had the choice which of those two she would choose. As she watched Ben talking with Nick, she was struck by the confidence with which he conversed, treating Nick with the ease of an equal. He seemed much older than the others, not only in age where the difference was not really that great, but in experience where he seemed to outstrip them by miles. Would the difference in age and experience make for difficulty in the house she wondered? Something told her that Ben’s room would not be a tip, nor would he tolerate fools gladly. There would be no rivalry between him and Dean, Clare was fairly certain, but, she thought, there would be no close friendship either.
    Ben caught her studying him, and raising his chin he let his eyes run over her in an equally appraising fashion, finally holding her own with a quizzical smile. He waited for her to speak and eventually she said, “Maddo was telling us that you’re a keen rugby player.” Even to herself it sounded trite and rather patronising, but it was the best she could think of on the instant.
    However, Ben answered easily enough. “Yes, I play for the university.”
    â€œIs it a good team?”
    â€œGood enough.”
    The conversation suddenly seemed to be going nowhere and Clare was glad when Madeleine broke in to demand of Ben what he was going to eat and she was able to turn and speak to Cirelle.
    While they munched their way through jacket potatoes stuffed with a variety of fillings, Nicholas explained to them all how the finances of the house would be run.
    â€œThere should be no problems if we all stick to a few elementary, but unchangeable rules,” he said, and went on to outline what these would be. Most of them were simple common sense and everyone readily agreed to them.
    â€œI shall get these