At last the caravan wound down the road to the gates, and as Eben trundled past in his jeep he blew his horn in greeting.

“Look at Eben,” Cornelius chuckled, “he looks like a character out of Turgenev in that deerstalker’s hat—the country gentleman.”

“Handsome!” Olivia said, blowing her horn in answer.

After what felt to Christina like hours and hours of preparation, they were really off. Now at last she could enjoy herself, let others be responsible. As they drove down the hill, they could see below them what looked like a huge crowd—parked cars everywhere, and clusters of grown-ups and children in the road and all around the green, where preparations were apparently going forward to release the pig.

“Come on, Hannah,” John said, pulling the jeep to the side of the road halfway down the hill, “we’ve got to see this!”

“Land’s sakes, is that a pig?” she asked as they heard hysterical squeals coming from somewhere near a knot of people at the far end of the green gathered round a small pick-up.

While John took Flicker over to Old Pete, Hannah ran down to see what it was all about, and Olivia edged as close as she could in her car. The Websters came to say good morning and were introduced to Mamzelle, Cornelius just a little brusque, for they were obstructing his view. “It’s the greased pig,” he said. “Excuse us, please, but we want to see it.”

“Where’s Alan? Where’s Cathy?” Sybille asked for the nth time.

“Who cares? Come on,” Marianne said.

The children were getting impatient. They were a formless huddle at the moment, each one tense with anticipation and, perhaps, just a little fear—as if the small terrified animal about to be released were a wild boar.

“It’ll be one, two, three, go,” Ed shouted on the bullhorn. “Are you ready with the pig?”

But a greased pig is hard to control. The two boys who held him let him go before Ed could give the official word. There was a wild scramble, the pig was entirely obliterated by the rush, and no one saw anything at all but a herd of children running. Then came screams of laughter and despair as the pig, intoxicated by his freedom, and terrified, slipped through their legs and made a dash out from the green, under Olivia’s car and up the hill.

“After him!” Ed shouted, laughing so much himself that he could barely speak.

About twenty small boys went skedaddling away after the pig, while most of the little girls grinned and giggled and swarmed around to watch the chase, so the car was surrounded, with people leaning on the hood, turning to greet the Chapmans inside.

“It is disorganized,” Mamzelle said crossly. “It is a fiasco!”