Fiona had moved into the area three years ago, and had already made quite an impact, finding herself positions on the management boards of several organisations, including the school and the community centre where Sara now worked. She’d explained to Sara that she’d made some money when she’d sold her previous business, and wanted to take a bit of time out to give back to the community while she decided what to do next. Not that she needed to work.

She and her family lived in one of the big gritstone villas that would have belonged to the quarry owners in times gone by. The house had been rundown when they’d moved in, and they’d done a complete renovation, adding a huge orangery across the back with the most stunning views over the Wharfedale valley. Sara had only met Fiona’s husband Maurice a handful of times, when she’d gone to collect the girls from sleepovers, and he seemed pleasant enough, if a little distant. He was fifteen years older than Fiona and ran a clothing business, with factories in India that he visited on a regular basis. It seemed to suit Fiona that he was away a lot – absence makes the heart grow fonder, she’d commented – and it gave her space to be queen bee in her own world of charities and public sector bodies, which were always on the lookout for board members with business acumen. Sara wouldn’t be surprised to see her standing as an MP in the future. Or finding some other influential position. She was definitely a mover and shaker, and Sara had to admit to being slightly in awe of her. At the same time, though, Fiona was easy to get along with, which was probably the secret of her success.

She laughed now, an earthy sound at odds with her perfect diction. ‘Oh, stop it. I don’t think it’s all me. There are a few new faces and we do seem to be pulling in the same direction, unlike the last set of board members. Anyway…’ She strung out the word, clearly looking for a way to end the conversation. ‘I’ll see you later. Is nine okay for me to pick up Chelsea?’

‘Yeah, that’s fine. Hope you have a good meeting.’ Sara ended the call, pushing the phone into her pocket before running down the path to her car. She was cutting it fine now, and Ezra got upset if she was late.