Raindrops began falling on the windscreen. Puttering through Holme and into Old Hunstanton, Aaron chose not to hear the combatant undertone. ‘Yes, I’ve found her to be the opposite of Alice in lots of ways. By the way,’ he added deliberately, ‘I’m afraid I let slip that we call her cousin Awful Alice so she’s quite expecting you to call her Crappy Clancy.’

There was a short, shocked silence. ‘Have you given her the idea we’re rude?’ Norma sounded scandalised, just as he’d intended her to feel. Then she added, ‘Don’t say crap.’

The Artisans’ Hall was set back from the seafront in prime tourist shopping territory. In the car park they found Dilys and the other crafters, Irene, Pat and Eunice, unloading boxes and bags from Clancy’s car. Aunt Norma wound down her window and called, ‘Glad to see this rain! Bring the tourists in off the beach.’ She nodded in Clancy’s direction. Clancy sent her a quick smile and nodded back.

Aaron extended his role from chauffeuring to delivery-man, ferrying the boxes of cards, pictures, quilts, embroidery and goodness-knew-what into the hall. Clancy helped until the crafter gang had begun to open the boxes then said brightly, ‘If you’re all set then I’ll head off to catch up on my emails and stuff.’

She was gone before Aaron could answer. Maybe she didn’t care for Aunt Norma, from her fold-up chair, watching every move Clancy made.

Although it had originally been his intention to return home until the fair ended, Aaron made a late decision to enjoy Hunstanton for a few hours instead. The rain had stopped but dark clouds scudded over the sea as he sauntered along the main beach, watching the waves rearing up to smash their heads on the shore. It wasn’t a beach he visited often as dogs were on the list of prohibitions posted on big notices up and down the promenade.

Alerted by loud music, he realised he was level with the funfair and was prompted by happy memories to cross the prom and jump up on the sea wall. When he and Lee had been children, a couple of goes on the rides had been a treat; as a teenager the fair had been a happy hunting ground for girls. Now he watched the dazzling colours of the waltzer and the gracious progress of the Ferris wheel, breathing in the evocative fragrance of suntan oil, candyfloss and hotdogs.

For a moment he thought he saw Clancy near the dodgem cars and prepared to jump down and cross to speak to her. It wasn’t her, but once she was in his mind he took out his mobile phone – no problem with signal in Hunstanton – and sent her a text.

From Evelyn’s notes Clancy understood that Saturdays, as changeover day, would be busy from now on. For now, however, she’d grabbed a table in a café called the Honeybee, a friendly-looking bee depicted buzzing across the top of every menu.

Her inbox had filled up as soon as she’d hooked up with the Wi-Fi and it gave her a strange sensation to see that Tracey, Asila and Monty had all replied to last week’s email.