‘Oh goodness! Of course you must get it checked out. Will there be a garage here that can deal with antique cars, though?’

‘Of course. It’s not that old. I’m sure there’s nothing much wrong with it. I’m just a bit nervous about breaking down far from home. We had some grisly times in the van, I can tell you.’

‘I can imagine,’ said Laura, slightly relieved that Monica, who seemed so well travelled and super-calm, had some normal neuroses.

‘The bed-and-breakfast people will know,’ said Monica.

‘I hope it won’t take us too long to find it,’ said Laura.

‘Oh come on,’ said Monica. ‘How hard will it be to find in a place this size? It’s tiny!’

‘I know. I can’t make out why they’re having the festival based here, and not in the town five miles up the road. And why is it so popular we could hardly find a place to rest our heads?’ Resting her head was a high priority at the moment.

‘Perhaps it’s that writer the sponsor is so keen on. Maybe he’s bringing them in in busloads.’

Laura shrugged. ‘Well, we certainly travelled quite a way to come and see him, although we do have an ulterior motive. But it is a charming place, isn’t it?’

They looked around at the brightly painted houses, the cars parked all higgledy-piggledy and the fishing boats tied up in the harbour. It wasn’t conventionally pretty, but it had great character.

‘Mm,’ agreed Monica, ‘and if it has a garage I’ll think it’s even more charming. Let’s get going!’

As Monica predicted, the bed and breakfast was not hard to find. It was a bungalow, tucked behind a hedge to shield it from the road, not that there was any traffic of note. The landlady was one of those useful people who imparted information without you having to ask for it.

‘Good afternoon girls, I’m Marion,’ she said cheerily. ‘Come in, come in. Would you like a cup of tea now? Come into the kitchen. You’re here for the festival? I expect you’re wondering why we have it in January.’ She paused for breath. ‘Fact is, the place is heaving in summer. It’s a real tourist spot, but there’s nothing going on in the winter, so they thought they’d have a festival of some kind in Patricktown – you know? Up the road?’

Laura and Monica nodded and took seats at the big wooden table.

‘Well – is it builders’ tea you like? Or I’ve got Earl Grey, Lady Grey, any amount of herbals, White tipped China—’

‘Builders’ tea please,’ they said in unison.