‘That’s gone now. The son-who-never-visited has done the place up and is renting it out, according to Chloë, my mate at Tovey’s. I bumped into her with that yappy terrier of hers that always growls at me as if I’m a burglar.’ Jill fell silent for a moment as she negotiated a right turn, as instructed by the satnav’s imperious Astrid, then added, ‘Someone’s taken a six-month lease, apparently.’

Connie wasn’t really interested, but she made noises as if she were. ‘It’ll be weekenders, I expect.’

‘It’s only two bedrooms, and one’s a cupboard, apparently. Probably a couple who live in London and have a yearning for fresh air and farm shops.’ She sighed. ‘Another one empty most of the year.’

The fair was packed and cheerful – music playing, lots of small children, delicious smells all vying with each other to make her mouth water. Connie blindly followed her friend around the stalls, responding to Jill’s enthusiasms. The predicted rain didn’t arrive till later, but it was chilly and Connie – who felt permanently cold these days – wished she’d worn more jumpers under her anorak. They ate beef, olive and sultana empanadas from a Chilean street-food stall, then shared a cone of hot, sugary churros with chocolate sauce, and sampled numerous beverages from plastic cups, some of them alcoholic, which Jill sipped, then passed to Connie to finish. So by the time they reached the car – a tiring trek across a bumpy, muddy field – Connie was pleasantly tipsy. It had been a good day and she was glad she’d made the effort.

She slid into the passenger seat of Jill’s Mini Countryman and sighed with relief, her body limp with fatigue. Eyes half closed, she glimpsed in the side mirror a man in a Barbour, his bushman hat pulled low against the rain, walking past the rear of the car. He stopped to speak to Jill, as she went to open the boot in order to change out of her wellies. After a minute, he strode off along the row of parked cars. Although she couldn’t hear what was said from where she sat, the raised tone of his ‘goodbye’ struck a chord in her sleepy, slightly intoxicated brain. After a second, she knew whose voice it reminded her of: Jared’s. It jolted her out of her lethargy.

‘Who was that?’ Connie enquired, as Jill climbed in and banged the door, throwing her bag onto the back seat.

‘Nice man. Lost his car keys, poor sod.’

‘Heavens … What’s he going to do?’

Jill started the engine and put on the wipers. ‘Go back and have another look around the fair, see if someone’s handed them in. Although he didn’t hold out much hope. Then call a garage, I suppose. He didn’t seem as upset as I’d have been.’

‘What was he asking you?’