‘Right, that’s enough of that,’ Carole gasped eventually. ‘We’ve got a long day tomorrow. Let’s leave these wild ones to it.’

Once we’d cleared the remains of dinner into the kitchen and got ready for bed, we crawled inside the tent and lay on top of our sleeping bags. Still warm from the dancing, we left the tent flap open so we could see the moon sailing across the treetops. Our plan had been to read our own books before the designated lights out, but Joan handed me her battered copy of The Hobbit.

‘Will you read to me?’

I had to wait for the lump in my throat to ease before I could reply. ‘Where have you got to?’

‘The chapter called “An Unexpected Party”.’ She smiled. ‘Like we had just now.’

‘Joan, I’ve read this book more times than you can count. I know that’s the first chapter.’

She looked at me, eyes wide and innocent.

‘I’m not reading the whole book.’

‘Why don’t you start it from there and we’ll see how it goes. You can stop when we get to a boring bit.’

‘You mean the blank page at the end?’

She grinned, lying back with a contented sigh.

Bilbo had just set off on his adventure when I noticed that Joan was asleep. She’d wriggled closer to see the illustrations, and her head now rested against my upper arm with a heavy reassurance that kept me reading for another few pages. Closing the book softly, I eased back into a sort-of-comfortable position, checked that Nesbit was still curled up in the entrance and clicked off the lamp.

The second that Joan sighed and rolled over into the other side of the tent, the tears came. I was so grateful that I’d had the chance to get to know this remarkable child. She’d filled up a chasm in my heart that I’d not realised existed.

What on earth am I going to do without her?

Once the tent was packed away, I had one job on Saturday morning. Remain calm and collected. Or in other words, not dissolve into a snotty heap until the hire van had disappeared down Hatherstone Lane.

There may have been one tear, two at the most, but Joan’s stiff, bitter expression was enough to keep my emotions in check as I helped load up the final bits and pieces before hugging my friends goodbye. Ebenezer appeared out his front door and handed Joan a book.

‘I don’t think you’ve read it.’

‘I haven’t,’ she said, flipping open the cover of Little Women. ‘Thank you…’ She paused, the hint of a smile creeping over her face for the first time that day. ‘Barry.’

‘Ebenezer, if you don’t mind.’

‘I don’t! I didn’t even know Barry was a real name.’

I peeked at the inscription in the front of the book: