He’d been surprised at the varied approaches to the Chagall postcards, including his own. Marnie had written from the point of view of the young woman in the top right corner whose house has so disconcertingly turned upside down, leaving her head down, but mysteriously managing to defy gravity by remaining standing on the roof. She hoped it was a metaphor for coping with change and upheaval, for developing an ability to keep one’s footing in unpropitious circumstances. Win had concentrated entirely on the huge face, which according to her had turned that curiously bright shade of green through an excess of jealousy. There were no prizes for guessing where that idea came from, though nobody liked to comment on it. Louisa had gone for an ecclesiastical view – the domed church, the rosary and crucifix round the green man’s neck, the jewel colours and stained-glass window effect of the picture. Problems with the established church? Doubts about the trappings of religion? Corrupt cardinals? Papal fallibility? Louisa had let her imagination rip. The Colonel, trained not to give way to panic no matter how challenging the conditions, had attempted the exercise with grim determination but found it surprisingly enjoyable. He suggested that the painting might be symbolic of rural issues: the management of an outbreak of foot and mouth for instance, with the green man representing Defra. Warming to his theme he mentioned possible assistance by the military (though no one could see much evidence for this idea in the picture) and the colour coding of various restricted-access routes on agricultural land. He was rather pleased with this last notion. Joyce said the colours reminded her of eating fruit pastilles at the pantomime and that led her on to pantomime horses, and then to pantomime cows – something she knew about since she had once played the hind legs of one in a W.I. Christmas performance. Morwenna, despite her complaint to Christopher that she had no imagination, had come up with the suggestion that the tiny bejewelled tree in the green man’s hand must have had its roots selectively pruned by a bonsai fanatic – a form of arboriculture she abhorred. Christopher himself had taken the view that the green man was psycho-analysing his prize-winning sheep in an attempt to cure it of its inconvenient conviction that it was really a cow. A question of identity crisis, he decided, indulging in a little self-mockery, caused by having your personal world turned upside down.

The session had ended in much hilarity. After only twenty-four hours together members of the group were beginning to feel they knew an extraordinary amount about each other. Bonds were beginning to be formed.