Drew’s grin was ear to ear. ‘You lucky cow ...’

Fortunately the Pughs chose that moment to make their entrance. They shuffled on to the stage, swollen with self-importance, and took up positions behind the microphone as though they’d been doing it all their lives. Bronwyn, in a brown corduroy pinafore dress, carried a clipboard; Bernie, in his Best Suit, was armed with buff folders. And they weren’t alone.

‘Dear God!’ Fran snuffled into her hand. ‘They’ve brought entertainment.’

Drew was laughing. Quietly. Maddy stared straight ahead, not daring to meet his eyes. Milton St John openly gawped at the rag-tag trail of colourfully dressed individuals who accompanied Bronwyn and Bernie on the stage.

‘Who the hell are they?’ Drew hissed. ‘They look like Adge Cutler and the Wurzels.’

‘I really wouldn’t know about that.’ Maddy was biting her lips. ‘But then I’m so much younger than you.’

Drew’s hand snaked across the seat and gripped her wrist. Their fingers entwined and Maddy gave an ecstatic shudder.

Fran looked scathingly at their linked hands. ‘Well done, Maddy. Ten out of ten for staying power.’

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ Bronwyn bellowed down the microphone. ‘We’re all here tonight to unite in a common cause. To protect the beauty and tranquillity of our village. To prevent the pillage of Milton St John!’ The village stamped its collective feet and whistled its approval.

‘Nice start,’ Drew whispered.

‘’Ello, Maddy.’ Brenda and Elaine were sitting in the row behind and had leaned forward still clapping. ‘Old Bronwyn’s a bit of a puckie, ain’t she? Bloody marvellous, the way she shouts.’

Maddy nodded. Drew looked confused. ‘A bit of a what?’

‘Puckie – it means … oh, a dark horse.’

‘And she’s not. the only one.’ Drew wriggled the brown leather flying jacket closer to Maddy’s shoulder. She leaned against it with a contented sigh.

‘Before we progress,’ Bronwyn yelled, ‘I’d like to introduce my friends.’ She turned to the dishevelled bunch beside her. ‘This is Sandra and Barry from the Twyford Down protesters, Joe and Nicky from the Batheaston site, and Peanut, who I’m sure you’ll all recognise from News at Ten.’

Milton St John craned their necks and peered. He didn’t look anything like Trevor McDonald.

Bronwyn bellowed again, ‘Peanut has been frequently televised at the Newbury bypass protest. He holds the record for chaining himself to a tree. Six days, wasn’t it, dear?’

Peanut nodded his dreadlocks. Milton St John whooped and cheered its support. There had been very strong feelings about the Newbury bypass in the village.

‘The old girl’s done her homework.’ Drew’s voice rang with admiration. ‘She’s brought in the heavy mob.’

‘I fancy the one in the bobble hat,’ Fran whispered. ‘Is that Peanut?

‘Sandra,’ Drew informed her.