‘Sue!’ Sue smelled Buoy, the ancient and life-battered old mongrel who’d so rudely impregnated her poodle, before she heard Alex, his current owner, call her name, and briefly she contemplated making a run for it. Alex was so happy, so loved-up, she positively glowed with it, even in that baggy old jumper, which was half dog hair. She looked completely radiant and had done since she’d married Ruan Thorne in the summer. But that was the price to pay for being the busiest body in all of Poldore – you couldn’t avoid people when you’d been preventing them from avoiding you for years.

‘Alex?’ She twisted in her seat and forced a smile, as Alex sat down, her younger dog, Skipper, scrambling into her lap and enthusiastically licking Sue’s ear, which as Sue was the owner of Skipper’s mother, Duchess, she supposed was a bit like a toddler greeting his (very young) granny.

‘Thought we needed some fresh air,’ Alex said. ‘Seems awfully stuffy in the harbour master’s office today and not just because Buoy has so far managed to avoid a bath for nearly six months. I’ve also got to work out how to tell people some really big news …’

‘Yes, it’s close, isn’t it?’ Sue said. ‘Colder tomorrow the forecast says.’

‘So what’s up?’ Alex asked her.

‘How do you know that something’s up?’

‘Well, it’s two days before the pageant and you’re sitting still and making small talk about the weather. You haven’t told me that I should just sedate Buoy and then put him through a car wash, and you don’t want to know what my big news is. This is the third Christmas pageant that we have been involved in now, and I know you. I know that sitting still and not being nosey, sorry, curious, is not an option.’

‘Well,’ Sue sighed. ‘Santa has retired, and now I need a new one, and it’s got to be the perfect replacement and I’ve got a day and half to find him. I mean you know that I have nothing but respect for Poldore’s older residents, but I could batter Jago into a coma with a cod fish for waiting until now to tell me that he thinks eighty-three is a bit old to be Santa. I mean honestly.’

‘Right.’ Alex exchanged a look with Buoy’s one good eye. ‘Is it really that bad? It’s just finding someone to put the suit on, right? What about our esteemed mayor and landlord of the Silent Man, Eddie? He’s certainly got the belly for it.’

‘I just don’t think Santa would be smelling of beer and fags, or have a gold tooth,’ Sue sighed. ‘Call me old-fashioned.’

‘What about Mr Figg?’ Alex snatched at the first name that came out of thin air.