Phoebe Fawnswater had arrived with a beautiful blue dress and headscarf in order to be the perfect Mary. Billy Icklethwaite was delighted to be demoted from innkeeper to third shepherd and enjoyed giving Bertie Stubbs as fifth sheep an occasional thwack with his crook. Veronica Poole’s rag doll was the stand-in baby Jesus and Reggie Bamforth, wearing a tea towel on his head and one of his mother’s old dresses, made a sincere and convincing Joseph. Although a nervous Malcolm Robinson as the back half of the cow had to keep going to the toilet, it mattered little as only the front half, namely Big Dave, had to speak – or, to be more precise, moo.

‘Thank you, Lily,’ said John as the children returned to their classrooms. ‘It looks like being the best yet,’ and Lily wondered what previous performances must have been like.

Outside the General Stores, Vera was pleased to see that Aloysius Pratt and Tommy Piercy had cleared the footpath of snow. Even so, after buying a packet of tea for the staff-room she stepped carefully on to the frosty forecourt, where a large black hearse had just drawn up.

‘May I ’elp you, Miss Evans?’

It was Septimus Bernard Flagstaff, the local funeral director, looking like a plump magpie in his black coat and gloves. Vera had always been intrigued by the name Septimus and had discovered he was the seventh child of a seventh child. Meanwhile, Septimus had made it clear that he worshipped the ground that Vera walked upon and Vera had politely rebuffed him at every turn.

‘I’m fine, thank you,’ she replied.

‘Ah could give you a lift to t’vicarage, Miss Evans, if ah may be so bold.’

‘A lift?’

Septimus took out a large spotted handkerchief from his coat pocket and polished a chrome headlamp with an exaggerated flourish. ‘Isn’t she a beauty?’ he said with obvious satisfaction. ‘She’s the pride of our fleet, a nineteen thirty-seven Rolls-Royce Silver Wraith. Only the best for Flagstaff and Flagstaff.’

‘You have a fleet?’ asked Vera.

‘Well, er … we ’ave another ’earse, an old un.’

‘I see. Well I appreciate the offer, but the walk will do me good.’

‘You would be very comfortable. It ’as a beautiful bench seat. All t’coachwork were done by Alpe and Saunders down in London. Top quality.’

‘Well, I’m very pleased for you.’

Septimus saw his opportunity to impress. ‘Ah’m tekkin’ this business t’places it’s never been before. We packed in ’orse-drawn funerals after t’war an’ came up t’ date so t’speak an’ now ah’m a member o’ t’National Association o’ Funeral Directors and t’Cremation Society.’

Vera was singularly unimpressed.

‘M’busy time’s comin’ up,’ he added eagerly. ‘Winter months are our bread an’ butter when t’killin’ cold sets in. Old folk start droppin’ like flies.’

‘How very sad.’