Laura was extremely tempted by the converted cowshed. It was May, two weeks before the course, and summer was at its prettiest. Hawthorn blossom and cow parsley frothed in the hedgerows and verges around Somerby, the sun shone and the birds sang. Naturally a country lover, Laura’s small flat in town had lost any charm it ever had for her, and living where she did meant she had to do a lot of driving. But she still protested politely.

‘But you’ll need it for a writer or something when the festival is on.’

Fenella ran her hand through her already tangled hair. ‘None of the writers we’ve got booked so far, or even any of those who haven’t got back to us, are as vital to us as you are! Do stop arguing and just move in!’ She looked around. ‘Although now I look at it, it is titchy. Fine for a weekend, or even a week, but otherwise . . . I don’t know.’

‘Oh no, it’s plenty big enough,’ said Laura instantly. Both women surveyed the room, wood-burning stove at one end with a sofabed and an armchair by it, little kitchen at the other, with a staircase to a gallery where the bed was. ‘It’s enchanting, you know it is.’

‘I know it’s a perfect jewel of a cottage, I’m just pointing out it’s awfully small if you want to stay in it longer than a week. There’s very little space for your clothes and things.’

‘I haven’t got a lot of stuff, to be honest. I could bundle up anything I don’t need and take it to my parents. They have a huge attic. What I need around me mostly are books.’

‘Well, there’s plenty of space for them.’ Fenella looked at the more or less empty bookcase. ‘People will leave books behind when they come to stay.’ She looked a little guilty. ‘Last year, I took all the ones they’d left in the other cottages and read them. I’ll have to put them back.’

‘Don’t worry. I’ve got actually got loads of books and should have a massive prune. I’ll bring them and you can share them round your cottages. How many have you got?’

‘Three, plus this one, but we’re always looking to do up another old cowshed or something to put people in.’

Laura laughed. ‘They’re more than “old cowsheds” by the time you’ve finished with them.’

‘I know. So . . .’ Fenella was still thinking about books. ‘If you were only allowed one shelf full, which books would you choose?’

Laura didn’t have to think for long. ‘Well, Dermot’s first two, of course. Then there’re a couple of authors I’ve followed for their whole careers. Poetry.’

‘So is Dermot really as good as everyone says he is?’ asked Fenella.