‘Oh, I didn’t realise that you and Aaron were …’

‘Oh, no! Nothing like that. We’re mates. Soulmates even! But he’s too young for me, and there is definitely no romance. He just understands me. Makes me realise there’s a big wide world out there, and I’m not in any hurry but somewhere, some day, I’ll meet the right person. The one who’s meant to be. And Joe will too, I hope. I don’t bear him any grudge, and it may have already happened for all I know. Still,’ Prue gave a half-hearted laugh, ‘God help whoever he ends up with …’

‘Do you think that was why he turned you down?’

‘What? That he might have met somebody else? No idea. It might explain the shock when I foolishly proposed that night. God, I must have had too much to drink. What was I thinking? But if he has found someone else already, or had someone all along, then she’s welcome to him.’

Or he is, Madi thought, as the two new friends parted company and Madi stepped back inside the cottage and closed the door. But it wasn’t her place to put Prue straight. If Madi was right in her assumptions, Prue would no doubt find out soon enough.

Donny had brought a whole gang of mates along with him to the first rehearsal on Saturday. One was carrying an old guitar in a tatty case, two or three had scraps of paper with scribbled jokes or poems or half-written songs on them, and one of the girls had found a microphone and stand at the back of her dad’s garage and was dragging it along behind her as if it was a long-handled broom.

Tom was soon busily writing names in his notebook.

‘Okay,’ he shouted at last, putting down his pen, trying to restore some order as everyone milled about, chatting at full volume. ‘Let’s have some hush, shall we? Come and sit down, everyone, and if there aren’t enough chairs, use the floor. Your bums are younger than mine.’

That seemed to get their attention.

‘And put that cigarette out, Ricky Flynn. You’re much too young to be taking up such filthy habits, and I just might feel obliged to have a word with your mother. Right, guys and gals, I’m not calling this an audition. As far as I’m concerned, whoever wants to be in is in. It’s your show, not mine. Now, so far we have two solo singers, one with guitar, one without, a girl band, a rock group, three comedians, a performance poet and a magician. Plus, Josie here would like to have a go at training her dog to do a few tricks, Pudsey style. We’ll keep an open mind on that one for now and see how it goes. So, all in all, I do think we have the basis for a show. A sort of Shelling’s Got Talent but without the public vote. What do you think? Two songs each, a five-minute slot for the non-singers, and some kind of group finale? With an interval for refreshments, we should be able to fill a couple of hours, eh?’