A lovely, gentle man who lived on a smallholding with a menagerie of animals, Gabe, came up in time to hear her words. Nan still referred to him as ‘new’ because he’d only come to the village twenty years ago. He’d retired as a bank manager and now owned The Angel. ‘We’ll be fine,’ he said soothingly. ‘If Posh Nosh ever opens it’ll be a three-mile drive from here.’

‘Closer on foot,’ Carola argued, pulling out a chair for him.

Gabe twinkled as he placed his pint on the table, tossed his thinning silver ponytail over his shoulder and sat down. ‘Two and a half miles via the footpath through the Carlysle Estate,’ he conceded.

Hannah was curious. ‘What new place? Another coffee shop?’

Carola glowered. ‘Simeon Carlysle took it into his head to convert the old stables on the estate into shops and a tea room called Posh Nosh. Supposed to be up and running for Christmas.’ A line dug in between her eyes.

All the villagers knew the nearby Carlysle Estate. Some were employed there. Hannah knew Christopher and Cassie Carlysle by sight because they occasionally turned up at village events but their son, Simeon, was just a name to her. ‘Whereabouts is it?’ she asked.

Gabe explained. ‘You have to drive right out of Middledip and nearly to Port-le-Bain village before you turn left.’

Hannah nodded. ‘Oh, I know. When I managed Creative Lanes at Bettsbrough our coffee shop got business from our shops’ customers. It wasn’t the main draw.’ Carola crossed her fingers, still looking doubtful.

Hannah was drawn into conversation with Kitty, mum of one of her old village friends Deanna and a fond grandmother to little Shelby, Deanna’s three-year-old daughter. ‘I’ll tell Deanna I’ve seen you. She’ll be stoked that you’re back.’

‘I’ll call her so we can meet up,’ Hannah promised. ‘I’ll be here at least as long as Nan has the cast on, I should think.’

Meanwhile, Nan was enjoying a chinwag with Melanie from the village shop. When Melanie eventually drifted off to another part of the warm and jolly pub, Nan whispered to Hannah, ‘There’s a job there, if you want it. Poor Melanie’s got to have a hysterectomy. You run shops. You could temp.’

Hannah stared at Nan, whose cap of silvery white curls looked blue because of the Christmas lights. ‘What about you?’

Nan drew herself up indignantly. ‘I’m retired!’

Snorting with laughter, Hannah gave her grandmother a hug. ‘I didn’t mean what about you for the job,’ she explained. ‘I meant that I’m supposed to be looking after you.’

Nan glared at her plaster cast. ‘It seems a shame for you to spend so much time cooped up with me.’