“But why?”

“Why does she go off like this?”

“Yeah.”

“There hasn’t been an official diagnosis, as far as Mum knows, but she says it’s most likely dementia.”

“Oh, that’s so sad.”

“It is, especially considering that before she started to forget where she is, or even who she is, Eloise Capel was something of a legend. Quite the character, really.”

“In what way?”

“Well, for many years—decades—she would go off travelling by herself—safaris in Africa, sailing down the Mekong, that sort of thing. She even walked the Camino de Santiago when she was sixty-something. By herself.”

“Wow. And what, her husband just stayed here?”

“Yes.”

“And that worked for them?”

“Apparently. He said his job was to keep the home fires burning.”

“What an extraordinary marriage.”

“It is.”

“And how do you know so much about all of this? I suppose it must be local lore.”

“Definitely, but also, when I was old enough to start caring about people other than myself”—he gave her a quick self-deprecating smile—“that was just before drama school, I became a little obsessed with them, especially Mrs Capel.

“I started doing some research, you know, back issues of the local paper, that sort of thing. She was well lauded in this part of Oxfordshire, a local celebrity of sorts. Actually, I’ve always thought her story—their love story, especially—would make an exceptional film.”

Chloe nodded to herself as they pulled off the road and into the car park of a pub called The Lord Nelson. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

He exited the pub minutes later escorting Mrs Capel, her hand tucked into the crook of his elbow. She was tall and slim and wore a soft pink woollen coat tied tightly around her waist. Unlike many women her age, she walked tall, shoulders back and her strong chin lifted proudly. Her silver hair was pulled into a high, loose bun and her high cheekbones had a hint of colour.

“She’s beautiful,” Chloe whispered to herself.

Archer opened the back door for Mrs Capel and when she was buckled into the seat, Chloe turned around and smiled. “Hello, Mrs Capel, I’m Chloe.”

The older woman’s eyes met hers and Chloe could see her straining to pull her focus back to the present. The moment wrenched Chloe’s heart, but she didn’t flinch, instead letting her gaze be a tether to the here and now. A blink and a smile, then, “Hello, Chloe. You remind me of my Daphne.”

Chloe beamed and turning back to face the front, she caught Archer’s eye. In his look, she could see the compassion and affection he felt for the elderly woman. It turned out that the world’s biggest film star was also a spectacularly nice human being.

I’m a goner.

Back in Penham, as they turned off the main road, Chloe saw Cecily standing at the entrance of the fair with a tall man, who Chloe assumed was Mr Capel. He was wringing his hands and he nodded at something Cecily was saying to him. The poor man, Chloe thought.