She seemed strangely nervous as we drew closer. She had a wicker shopping basket over one arm and she’d had her hair restyled. Her skirt also seemed a little shorter and there was a new colour to her lips. She looked good – even if the hairstyle did seem a little too familiar to my own. I found myself aware of the changes in my own appearance. I was wearing boots more at home in a stable than in any of the pubs I frequented at Oxford, and my waxy jacket had been chosen for its waterproof qualities rather than anything to do with style.

‘Flick,’ I said, and I swear she seemed to sag with relief that I was still content to use the nickname I had bestowed. If she’d called me Mrs Hemlock I think I’d have burst into tears.

‘Cordelia,’ she said, smiling.

We didn’t hug. This was still Gilsland. Spontaneous displays of affection in the main thoroughfare would have made it into the Hexham Courant.

‘You’re looking well,’ I said. ‘Love the skirt.’

‘So does John,’ she said, and I think she may have tossed her hair a little. She looked good. Happy, even.

‘How are the boys? Brian maimed anybody this week?’

‘Not yet,’ she said, smiling. ‘Been knuckling down, actually. The school wants to have him tested and apparently that’s a good thing not a bad one. Reckon he might be clever.’

‘He’s got something about him,’ I said, nodding.

‘I hear you’ve been courting scandal,’ she said, dropping her voice. ‘Seen out walking with Heron. Picnics by the river. And there’s a rumour he’s brought you a Christmas tree.’

I smiled at that, rolling my eyes. ‘We talk. He listens. He’s not the sort for indoors.’

‘But you’ll not be alone for Christmas, eh? He’ll be coming up? Your husband?’

I shook my head. ‘Already sunning himself in Lake Garda.’

‘Be better if he were drowning himself in it,’ said Felicity, and appeared shocked at herself. We shared a smile.

‘There’s a card for you,’ she said, remembering, and started rummaging in her basket. She handed over an envelope. On the back, James had drawn a squirrel with its head cut off. ‘There’s a plate for you at the table if you want company.’