There was a furniture maker who was an artist in marquetry. His jewellery boxes were like puzzles, full of secret drawers with hidden springs. She instantly thought about Ismene. She would love one of these boxes and she was so difficult to buy for. Helena considered for a few minutes and then, although the boxes were way above her normal budget for presents, chose a small oval box. There was a picture of a running horse and the secret compartment was very well concealed. While she would never be able to spend so much on her niece, Gilly, the ultimate indulgent grandmother, would have no trouble.

Having taken up time buying the box, Helena hurried past a violin maker, a glass blower (although not blowing currently) and a ceramicist.

Her purchase having been admired and approved by Jennifer, who’d been minding her stall, Helena said, ‘The standard here is really high, isn’t it? I was so lucky to get in.’

‘But your work is lovely,’ said Jennifer. ‘I sold two of your blankets while you were away. Cash sales, thank goodness.’ She handed Helena a wodge of notes.

‘Oh, thank you! I’m only here because someone else dropped out.’

‘Was that the woman who made garden ornaments?’ asked Venetia from two stalls down. ‘Rather a second-rate artisan if I may say so.’

Helena laughed. ‘As long as you don’t call me that the moment my back is turned.’

‘Of course not!’ said Venetia, horrified. ‘Your work is of the highest standard! I’m talking casts of gnomes with wheelbarrows and unfortunately placed fishing rods. From the back they looked horribly vulgar.’ She bit her lip. ‘They were quite funny though.’

Reassured, Helena smiled. ‘Oh! Here’s my mother.’

‘Will she be bringing more snacks?’ said Jennifer.

‘Quite likely. As I said, she is a feeder.’

‘Excellent. Anything she wants to buy from me she can have at a discount.’

But Helena’s initial pleasure at seeing her mother, who was with her brother and sister-in-law, was dimmed when she spotted Leo marching across to join the party. He kissed her mother’s cheek and stood beside her while they waited for a gap in the throng.

Honestly, thought Helena, how many times did she have to tell her mother he was a not a good person? But then she noted that her mother didn’t look at all happy about his possessive attitude and guessed Leo’s presence was something to do with her brother. She wondered whether, if she told Martin what a bad lot Leo was, he’d stop being his friend. But Martin was quite likely to say, ‘I’ll make my own judgements about people, thank you,’ and carry on as before.