Will gazed at her with interest. Her style had been developing since they moved, and he could hardly wait to see her latest work. ‘So, can I see?’

‘Give me three or four days, baby, will you?’

His face fell. ‘But . . .’

‘Please?’

He’d give in of course, he always did, but he couldn’t resist one last try. ‘Then show me this new fairy that Angela and Hubert are collecting. I can’t believe you haven’t even let me inside the studio while you were designing it. Please let me see it before them?’

This new habit she had of working behind a closed door caused him considerable pain. For years, he had loved to watch his beautiful wife work, but since she’d taken possession of a new studio upstairs, he had not been allowed to enter. She told him her concentration was not as good as it used to be, and she would work better alone. He had had to accept it.

For a moment Kate looked irritated, and then she nodded. ‘Of course you can. Come on.’ She held out her hand and led him up the stairs.

Kate opened the door to her studio. It appeared to be empty, apart from a single painting displayed on an easel.

The painting depicted a boy fairy standing under a rowan tree. It took Will’s breath away. ‘Incredible! Kate, you are getting better and better. The detail in this will be lost on children. It’s really beautiful.’

Kate explained that fairies considered the rowan to be a very special tree, and they always protected the garden in which it grew. It was a “witch” tree, which meant it belonged to the goddess. ‘There is a spell you can cast to make your bedding plants flourish. We must try it, darling, now we are proper country people. It involves burying old leather boots and shoes along with a handful of rowan berries. You repeat a little charm over them — I’ve got the words here somewhere. You do it by the light of a waxing moon, either a Friday or a Wednesday as they are the nights of the guardian angels, Anael and Raphael. Oh yes, and the berries have to be collected on Rowan-tree Day, that’s 13 May.’

‘Hate to tell you, honey, but May is long gone.’

‘Rats! There go my hopes for winning the village “Best Garden” competition.’

Will looked at her, amazed. In a matter of minutes, she had gone from angry and belligerent to his old enthusiastic Kate, waxing lyrical over her latest creation. ‘How do you find out all this weird stuff?’ he asked.