more often, so that will be fun.’
‘And Felix too – we can be three singletons together,’ I agreed. ‘The Lonely Hearts Club of Sticklepond. Meanwhile, perhaps you’d better keep the news about who’s bought the Old Smithy to yourself for a bit, Poppy, if you think it might make an upset. Let it suddenly burst on Sticklepond as a fait accompli.’
‘But you’ll tell Felix, won’t you?’
‘Yes, I’m going to ring him in a minute, but I’ll swear him to secrecy too. In fact, the reason why I’m ringing you now is because I’ve arranged to get the keys to the Smithy from Conrad tomorrow, and I thought you might be able to get away and meet me for lunch in the Falling Star afterwards, so I can tell you all about it.’
‘Hang on, I’ll just ask Mum how we’re fixed.’
She covered the phone, but I could still hear her shouting: ‘Mum! Chloe wants me to meet her for lunch tomorrow – could you manage? What…?’
But although Poppy’s mother has an equally healthy pair of lungs (despite being a chain smoker), the other end of the conversation was just a faint noise in the background, so she must have been upstairs.
Poppy came back on. ‘Mum says that’s OK. It’s a quiet day for lessons and the work experience girl can help her muck out and clean the tack.’
‘About twelve then – and you can tell me what you’ve been doing recently.’
‘Not a lot. Staying up all night with a pony with laminitis is about the most exciting it’s got lately,’ she said sadly. ‘Oh, except that at the last Parish Council meeting, before we started talking about the museum, Miss Winter said the bishop is still looking for a non-stipendiary vicar to take over All Angels, because the alternative is to amalgamate our parish with another one and none of us is keen on that. That’s what the last emergency Parish Council meeting was about, and there’s yet another one this evening, so perhaps he’s actually found us a vicar now – but I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.’
‘I can hardly wait.’
‘At least we will be back in the village hall tonight. We had to have the last meeting in the church vestry because the Scouts were clearing away their jumble sale, and it was freezing. Mr Merryman, the temporary vicar, seems a very nervous man, though I don’t think the fact that three of the council were already wearing Elizabethan dress for the Re-enactment Society meeting afterwards really helped – Miss Winter as Queen Elizabeth the First is quite terrifying! And then Mr Lees, the organist, was practising fugues all the way through, so that was really gloomy.’
‘I can imagine. And what did you say a non-stipendiary vicar was, again?’
‘Someone who has got ordained but doesn’t need a salary, basically.’
‘Oh, right – an economy vicar. And tell me again, who’s on the Parish Council as well as you and Felix and Miss Winter as chairman?’
‘I don’t think you ever listen to a word I say,’ she complained, but complied. ‘Well, there’s the Winter’s End steward, Laurence Yatton…’
‘Oh, I know – elderly, silver-haired and handsome, drives an old Land Rover.’
‘Yes, that’s him. And you’ve probably seen his sister Effie, too. She used to be a gym mistress in a private school but now she works off all that excess energy by running the Brownies, the tennis club and the Elizabethan Re-enactment Society. Then there’s the vicar and the village policeman, Mike Berry.’
‘I’ve met Mike a couple of times in Felix’s shop with his girlfriend, Anya, the one with red dreadlocks.’
‘Yes, she’s very nice, isn’t she? She’s an old friend of Sophy Winter, who inherited the Winter’s End estate the year before last and she runs the gift shop there when the house is open to the public.’
‘Is that everyone?’
She counted up: ‘Me, Felix, Miss Winter, the vicar, Mike, Laurence and Effie…Yes, that’s it.’
‘Small, but perfectly formed,’ I commented.
When I rang Felix he wanted to come over to the Old Smithy with me, but I wouldn’t let him. It was hard to explain, but I felt I wanted to be on my own this first time, especially when I saw the cottage where Jake and I would be living. He agreed to meet me and Poppy at the pub at twelve, though, to hear all about it.
‘In fact, I might as well shut for the whole day; the village is as quiet as a grave and probably will be until Easter, when Winter’s End reopens.’
‘Oh, I think it might get slightly livelier before that. Don’t forget, Jake will be moving in too.’
‘Oh my God!’ he said, though actually he had suffered much less from Jake’s practical jokes and general awfulness than any of my boyfriends had, probably due to being just a friend rather than a potential suitor who might take me away.
‘Not to worry, he seemed to grow out of that phase ages ago,’ I assured him. ‘Or maybe he just stopped because I’d finally given up on men?’
‘But you haven’t really, of course, you’ve just been busy like me and the years have slipped away,’ he said. ‘Then one morning you wake up and think how nice it would be to have another person there to share things with, someone undemanding and comfortable and—’
‘Like a cosy pair of slippers?’ I suggested sweetly. ‘Well, you are older than me, Felix, so I’m not saying I might not feel like that one day, but if I do, I’ll get a dog.’
As usual I couldn’t fall asleep that night until I heard Jake come in, which he did fairly quietly considering the size of his big, black boots. But I still got up extra early next morning, so I had time to pick up the latest chapter from Grumps and pack Chocolate Wishes orders, before driving over to Sticklepond.
I collected the key from the house agents on the way there – the main branch is here in Merchester – and promised Poppy’s cousin Conrad that I would lock it up carefully behind me and return them later.
‘Not that I’ve shown the property to anyone else since the Misses Frinton accepted your grandfather’s offer, of course,’ Conrad said quickly. ‘And even before that, once he’d expressed an interest in buying it, because he told me—’ He broke off, looking embarrassed and uncomfortable.
‘He told you that if you did, he would put a curse on you, one that would render your life unutterably hideous?’ I asked helpfully.
‘Er…yes,’ he agreed sheepishly. ‘Of course, he was joking – I know your grandfather!’
He didn’t sound too sure about it, though.
The Old Smithy is at the very end of the High Street, almost opposite the Falling Star, where I was to meet Felix and Poppy later. As I drove past, Mrs Snowball, the publican’s ninety-year-old mother, was outside the front door donkey-stoning a square of the grey pavement into sparkling whiteness. She’d
