‘You could—’ Louise was interrupted by a harsh ringing sound.

They all looked around, startled.

It repeated.

The doorbell, they realized.

Signalling to his wife to stay where she was, Jason walked out and over to the front door, and opened it.

A tall, lean man in his late forties stood there, wearing an Aran jumper with a minister’s white dog collar just visible, blue jeans and work boots. He had thinning hair and a handsome face with an insouciant, rather world-weary expression that reminded Jason of an actor whose name he could not immediately remember.

He would be a good subject to paint, was his first thought.

‘Mr Danes?’ he enquired, with a posh public-school voice.

‘Yes.’

‘I’m the vicar of Cold Hill parish, Roland Fortinbrass. I just thought I would pop round and introduce myself, as you’ve just moved in. Is this a convenient time? I hope I’m not disturbing you from your work?’ He gave a warm smile. ‘I understand you are a very celebrated local artist.’

‘Struggling, rather than celebrated,’ he replied, hesitantly, and smiled. This was such a weird coincidence, his turning up just at this moment, he thought. Should he invite him in now, with Louise here, or ask him to come back later? He made a decision.

‘How nice to meet you. Fortinbrass, did you say? Like the character in Hamlet?’

The vicar smiled. ‘Well, similar – he had only one “s” in his name – I have two.’

‘Ah, right. Please – come in.’

Entering, the vicar said, ‘What a simply charming house – it reminds me so much of the original mansion that was here on this site. I hope you and Mrs Danes will be very happy here.’

Closing the door behind them, Jason said, ‘Can we offer you some tea or coffee, Reverend?’

‘Oh no, thank you, I’m fine, and I don’t want to trouble you for longer than is necessary. This is just a very quick visit to welcome you to our little community.’

‘My wife and I went to the Crown yesterday, for lunch, and got the feeling some of the locals aren’t too happy about this development,’ Jason said.

Fortinbrass smiled. ‘Well, you have to understand that country folk are very set in their ways. They don’t like – or get – change.’

‘So it seems.’

‘Allow me to speculate that the most vociferous among them was a certain farmer?’ Fortinbrass said.

‘Albert Fears?’

‘Well, I don’t like to name names, but I’m afraid yes, Albert is one of those who springs to mind. He somewhat insularly takes the view that to be a local, you have to be born here. Everyone else, in his book, is an interloper.’

‘We rather got that impression.’

‘Don’t let it worry you. It was the same with me, when I came here. Please don’t let it put you off. This is a very friendly community and we welcome new blood. Indeed, we badly need it – and especially, if I may say so, someone as famous as you. There is so much talk in the village – everyone is very thrilled to have you and your wife here.’