‘Mm, I wouldn’t say it’s that exactly – it mainly involves making endless phone calls – although the planning has been, and it has been lovely being in at the ground floor of something. Checking venues will be good, though, I should think.’ She frowned. ‘You’d probably be more use to Monica—’

‘I wish you two would pay attention,’ Monica cut in. ‘What if Seamus’s band is a pile of poo?’

‘Then they can’t come,’ said Grant simply. ‘Not only am I fair, I’m firm.’

‘Well, lucky you,’ said Monica, pushing him, as if they’d been friends for years.

‘Seriously,’ Grant went on, ‘if it’s a new festival you can’t afford to have substandard acts.’

‘What sort of music do they play?’ asked Laura after she and Monica had taken in this basic truth.

‘Irish, very traditional. I’ve asked him to send me a CD of something but he says there isn’t one. They mostly just play in pubs.’

‘Well, the musicians who played in the pub in Ballyfitzpatrick were brilliant,’ said Laura. ‘I’ve just had an idea,’ she added, leaning in.

‘Lie down until the feeling goes away,’ suggested Grant.

‘What?’ said Monica.

‘It’s an idea I had before but then dismissed. Dermot has some poems, not many but very good. Supposing we ask him to read them, and have Seamus’s band playing Irish music in between, or even very quietly in the background while he reads.’

Monica nodded, warming to the idea. ‘Could be good.’

‘The venue would have to be right though. It wouldn’t work in an echoing great hall,’ said Grant, ever the voice of reason, from his end of the bar.

‘No, it would have to be in a pub,’ said Monica.

‘What, use the pub local to Somerby?’ asked Laura.

‘Is there one?’ asked Grant.

‘Yes. And it’s lovely but I’d have to find out if they would be up for it.’

‘Don’t pubs have to have licences if they have music?’ said Grant.

‘I don’t know,’ said Laura impatiently. ‘But couldn’t they get one? It’s such a good idea – even though it was mine. Although . . .’ She paused. ‘We may not be able to fit many people in.’

‘That Sarah person would know,’ said Monica. ‘I’m just thinking how brilliant it would be, recreating that atmosphere in England.’ She was really enthusiastic now, in part because she wouldn’t have to face the possibility of telling Seamus he couldn’t play at the festival.

‘What atmosphere?’ said Grant. ‘If you’re thinking smoke-filled rooms, fiddles and great crack, there’s been a smoking ban for a while now.’

‘Oh, you had to be there, Grant!’ said Monica. ‘There were times when the people enjoying themselves most were the ones outside flicking cigarette butts into the bin, but it was great, wasn’t it, Laura?’

‘Oh yes,’ she replied, thinking back.