‘Poor boy.’

‘Oh, don’t feel sorry for him. It’s Prue who drew the short straw, and he might be my future brother-in-law so I know I shouldn’t say it, but she’s better off without him, believe me.’

Madi watched them walk away, stopping to chat to just about everyone else who crossed their path. Being the local vet was bound to get you recognised, Madi thought. And liked.

‘Excuse me.’

The boy standing beside her laid one hand on the back of Madi’s chair and waited for her to turn to face him.

‘Oh, hello.’ He was probably about thirteen or fourteen but short for his age, and a bit on the chubby side, and he was wearing a shirt and tie that didn’t quite seem to go with the scuffed trainers (the toes of which he was busily kicking into the grass) or the unruly hair badly in need of a comb. She gave him her best smile, noticing how anxious he looked, and tried to put him at his ease.

‘Sorry to disturb you, Miss, but they say you’re famous.’ He lifted his hand from the chair and nibbled at his nails. His cheeks were very red, and he was gazing at her quizzically, as if trying to put a name to the face. She half expected him to produce an autograph book any second now, if only to work out exactly who she was by reading her signature.

‘No. Not famous. Known maybe, among people who go to the theatre, but far from famous. I’m Madalyn Cardew, and you can call me Madi. Miss is for schoolteachers.’

‘Right. I’m Donny.’

‘Ah, we meet at last! I’ve heard a lot about you, Donny. And I’ve heard you in the bell tower, of course.’

His eyes lit up. ‘Have you?’

‘Hard not to, Donny, while I’m living so close to the church.’

‘Sorry. Is it too loud?’ He lowered his eyes. ‘I’m sort of teaching myself, so I haven’t worked out how to do it quietly yet. But I will.’

‘I’m sure you will. Now, would you like to sit down? Perhaps I can tempt you to a scone, once they arrive? I’m sure we can spare one.’

‘Oh, no. Mum’ll be here later. She doesn’t like me to have too many snacks, and she’ll be wanting me to eat my dinner when we get home. After she’s done the judging. Not that she’ll eat much herself tonight, after tasting all those cakes!’

‘A cup of tea then, or a lemonade or something?’

‘No, you’re all right. I just wanted to ask …’

‘Come on, sit. You’re making the place look untidy.’ She pulled out a chair and pointed to it, and Donny reluctantly sat down. ‘Now, what was it you wanted to say? It’s okay, I don’t bite!’

‘I had this idea, you see, Miss. About doing a show. Oh, not like this one, with cakes and things.’ He threw his arms out to encompass the hall and its surroundings. ‘A proper show. On a stage. Music and comedy and stuff.’ He stopped and took a breath before spilling his ideas out, so thick and fast she could hardly keep up. ‘Bells aren’t the only thing I play, I’m learning the guitar as well, and I’ve written some lyrics for a song. Or I could just read them out like poems. Or my mate Sean could sing them. He can sing okay. Or thinks he can. And tell jokes. And there are these girls from school who pretend to be The Supremes, in the playground at break times. You know, that girl group from the old days. They can’t be the Spice Girls or Little Mix cos there’s only the three of them, but they’re quite good, I think, even though only one of them is actually black …’