‘Ooh, I must tell my old neighbour. She was a crusty old thing but she got interested in the festival. She’ll be thrilled.’

‘Everyone is. She’s very popular. She’s doing a writing course. We’ve sold fifteen tickets so far, but we can only take twenty, and I’ve got some people who I’m fairly sure will take the other places.’

Laura was grateful no one knew how she was feeling inside and for being thrown straight back into festival matters.

‘Brilliant. We must make sure we have all her backlist. Talking of which, is Henry organised? Has every author who’s appearing got lots of copies to sign and sell?’

‘He’s been ace! Not only has he got books by all the authors we’ve invited, but quite a few other authors in similar genres. He said you had him very well trained.’

Laura laughed. ‘He trained me actually.’ She paused. ‘So what are we going to do about the authors who haven’t confirmed? With only a week to go it’s cutting it a bit fine.’

‘There is only one of those now.’ Fenella took a sip of her coffee, fixing Laura with a stare from behind her mug.

Laura hoped Fenella didn’t notice her blushing. ‘We’ll have to plan events to fill his slots. Remind me what we had planned for him.’

‘Apart from the main interview? An “Evening of Irish Music and Literature”.’

Laura thought. ‘Oh yes. In the pub, to recreate an Irish atmosphere.’

Fenella nodded. ‘Except that we couldn’t use the pub. We could only have got about ten people in and the publican wasn’t keen. And I’ve got cold feet about the poetry, to be honest. We’re a new festival – poetry might not be that popular. Is his poetry wonderful?’

Laura put her head on one side. ‘Yes, but not as wonderful as his prose.’

‘Shall we scrub it then? Especially as he’s quite likely not to turn up?’

‘That would be a shame. We could have the music and someone could just read bits of Irish literature. I could choose some pieces. They don’t all have to be Dermot’s. Have we got someone who could read them?’

‘You’ve got no faith in Dermot turning up then?’ Fen asked.

Laura sighed. She no longer had any faith in her judgement. She’d thought she had known Dermot, and then Bridget had appeared before her like a banshee in modern dress and she didn’t feel she knew anything about him. ‘I just don’t know. I think we’d better make elaborate plans for his non-appearance, then he’ll turn up just to annoy us.’

Fenella laughed. ‘Would it annoy you?’

‘If we had gone to huge trouble to fill in for him it would. Who might read the pieces? Do you know any actors?’

‘No, but Hugo, Sarah’s husband, has got a beautiful speaking voice.’