‘I do realise that I might have to broaden my search a bit but that’s probably a good thing.’

‘Do you want to move house as well as change your job?’

Laura visibly shuddered. Her tiny flat was not a palace but it could have been far worse and, more importantly, she could afford it. ‘Not really, but I suppose I may have to.’

‘Then far better quit while you’re ahead. Run the festival for my niece and you won’t have to move. You can live on-site, there’s plenty of room. And I’m sure you’d be brilliant at it.’

‘Honestly, I may be able to set up a reading in a bookshop but I couldn’t do the other stuff – such as how to calculate how big a marquee I’d need for the events. There’s nothing worse than a tent for two hundred and only twenty people in it.’ Laura had experienced this for herself – she had nearly frozen to death.

‘You won’t have to do that sort of thing,’ said Eleanora confidently. ‘There are others who can do that. We – they – need you for your knowledge of books and writers.’

Trying to clamp down on the stirrings of interest this flattering statement aroused, Laura said, ‘Will it pay well?’ The answer was bound to be no and then she could just say no. Eleanora was the sort of woman who would understand this practical approach.

For once, the forthright Eleanora didn’t instantly reply. Instead, she fiddled with her cutlery for a second. ‘There’ll be some sort of fee, I imagine. To be honest, I’m not sure exactly.’

Laura felt on solid ground at last, although she didn’t find it as comfortable as she would have thought. ‘Well, that settles it. I can’t possibly afford to work for nothing.’ She felt a little sad to have got out of it so easily, then shook herself. She didn’t exactly get a king’s ransom working in a bookshop, but at least it paid the bills and she couldn’t be reckless and agree to something on the basis of an as yet unspecified fee.

‘But you said! You’ve still got your job at the shop for the next two months! And all the big festivals are mostly run by volunteers.’

‘I can’t afford to be a volunteer, I need paid work,’ she gently reminded Eleanora.

‘As I said, you’ve got that!’

‘But Miss—’

‘Eleanora.’

‘Eleanora . . .’ she blundered on, not quite happy with calling this woman she didn’t know very well by her first name. ‘I’m paid to work in a bookshop. That means I have to be there, doing my job.’

‘Oh, your boss will give you time off to run the festival! I’m sure he will! He seemed such a nice man.’