In Laurel Cottage Florence was watching Freddie dip his toast soldiers into the runny yolk of a boiled egg before she took him off to school. The radio was on and Guy Mitchell was singing ‘She Wears Red Feathers’. She stared out of the window and was happy to see the spring sunshine. If it wasn’t for the situation with Lily all would be well – but her daughter had begun to spend more time with her handsome policeman and Florence sensed no good would come of it.

When Lily walked across the village green that morning she sensed the change in the air. The first primroses brightened the verges, birds were pairing up and claiming territory, while rooks cawed loudly in the elm tops. Soon new shoots of lime and ash would burst into life.

‘Mornin’, Miss Briggs,’ called out a familiar voice.

‘Mornin’, Miss,’ echoed another.

‘Good morning, boys,’ she called back and looked around, but she couldn’t see anyone.

‘Up ’ere, Miss.’

Lily looked up into the branches of the weeping willow above her head. Big Dave Robinson and Little Malcolm were sitting on a branch sharing a liquorice shoelace.

‘Do be careful, boys – it doesn’t look safe.’

‘We’re playing Tarzan, Miss,’ explained Big Dave.

‘So it’s you who should be worried, Miss,’ said Little Malcolm with a mischievous grin.

‘Why is that?’ asked Lily.

‘’Cause lions can’t climb trees,’ shouted Big Dave in triumph.

‘Well as long as you’re not next to Lake Manyara in Africa, you’ll be fine.’

‘Why’s that, Miss?’

‘Because that’s where tree-climbing lions live,’ and she strode off towards school.

‘Bloody ’ell, Malc – tree-climbing lions.’

Malcolm stared after Lily Briggs. ‘That’s problem wi’ teachers, Dave – they know f***in’ everythin’.’

The Revd Joseph Evans rode down the Morton road on his 1940s bicycle, which was beginning to show its age. He parked it outside the General Stores prior to buying a bag of biscuits for the staff-room; he wanted to contribute towards the morning tea and biscuits that were part of his regular visit.

As he walked into the shop Rosie Finn was in front of him at the counter.

‘’Ello, Miss Golightly,’ said the little girl politely.

‘Hello, Rosie, what can I do for you?’

‘Can me mam ’ave ’alf an onion please … an’ one apple?’

The little girl put two pennies on the counter.

Prudence was used to serving unconventional amounts. She was also mindful that on no account should she provide a whole onion, as this would be perceived as charity. The outcome would be that Mary Finn would not frequent the General Stores again. So she cut an onion in half, wrapped it carefully, selected the largest apple and put them in a paper bag. ‘Here you are, Rosie, and here’s a barley sugar for remembering to say “please”. Now run straight home.’