Mr Blackman was first to arrive. He greeted me like a long-lost friend, even though we’d met in church only the day before, patting me on the shoulder and declaring that I was looking well. He thanked me loudly several times for bringing in the tea and cold drinks, exclaiming, ‘What a charming daughter you have, John, and growing into a lovely young woman before our very eyes. You must be very proud.’

Why did his presence always make my skin crawl? His appearance was perfectly ordinary. Eli said Blackman had used his fortune to move to the village that he’d felt deprived of, as a child. We should have felt sorry for him. But how can you summon any sympathy for someone so determined to oust an old man from his home and sell off a piece of beautiful woodland?

I was taking the pot of tea, jug of milk, cups and saucers and a plate of biscuits into the dining room when Pa came out to ask whether I would mind taking the minutes. ‘It seems Miss Calver is indisposed,’ he said. I didn’t protest too much, and was genuinely flattered to be asked. Apart from Blackman, the other committee members were generally a cheerful lot, always ready with a kindly word to me and Jimmy. They included the curate, Alistair Thornberry, the twins’ mother Mrs Timpson and a couple of other friendly souls.

‘It’s only a matter of taking notes. I’ll help with the writing up, later,’ Pa said, lowering his voice. ‘You don’t get to contribute or vote, of course.’ He gave me a warning look.

After agreeing the minutes and ‘matters arising’, Pa announced, ‘Item one. Stained glass. Of course, we are most grateful to Mr and Mrs Waddington for their generosity, and to Mrs Blackman for her charming design. You’ve all had a chance to view it, I hope?’

‘Forgive me if this sounds ungrateful.’ This was Mr Abbott, an elderly, pious man who attended every church service and had apparently been on the committee forever. ‘But is it right to celebrate what is essentially a heathen legend as part of the fabric of the house of our Lord?’

‘Have you seen the dragon on the wall of Wiston Church?’ Mrs Timpson piped up. ‘Let’s not allow them sole ownership of this important medieval legend, part of the wonderful history of our village.’ This was met with mutters of ‘Hear, hear’.

‘Shall we vote?’ Pa asked, after the debate had ranged around the table for a few minutes. ‘All those in favour.’ Five hands went up, including his. ‘Those against.’ Only Mr Abbott raised his arm.

‘Thank you. We have shown the design to the diocese and we are confident they will approve it. We will keep you updated,’ Pa said. ‘Let’s move on to item two: use of church land.’