I had been told that I could not fail to spot the King’s Head Inn, where I would be staying, but fail I did. Luckily, a bespectacled young man with a boomerang-shaped scattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose and a newspaper tucked under his arm was on hand to help me. He appeared at first behind me, startling me. “Lost, are you?” he said.

“I believe I am, yes. I’m looking for the King’s Head.”

“Ah!” He grinned. “Thought so, with your case and all. You’re not a native, then? King’s Head looks like a house from the street, so you’d not notice it, not unless you went along the lane there—see? Go down there, turn right and you’ll see the sign and the way in.”

I thanked him and was about to follow his advice when he called me back with, “So where are you from, then?”

I told him, and he said, “I’ve never been to London. What brings you to our neck of the woods, then?”

“Work,” I said. “Listen, I hope this doesn’t sound rude, and I’d be glad to talk to you later, but I’d like to get myself settled in first.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you, then,” he said. “What kind of work is it you do? Oh—there I go again, asking another question. Maybe I’ll ask you later.” He waved and set off down the street.

I tried again to proceed to the King’s Head and he shouted after me, “Down the lane and turn right!” More jovial waving followed.

He was trying to be friendly and helpful, and I should have been grateful. Normally I would have been, except . . .

Well, I’ll admit it: I don’t like villages. I didn’t say so to Poirot before I left, but I said it to myself many times during the train journey, and then again when I got off at the pretty little station. I didn’t like this charming narrow street in which I stood, which curved in the exact shape of a letter S and had tiny cottages on both sides that looked more suitable for whiskery woodland creatures than for human beings.

I didn’t like being asked presumptuous questions by complete strangers on the street, though I was fully aware of my own hypocrisy since I was here in Great Holling to interrogate strangers myself.