The fête was not yet quite under way when the four of them arrived. Ed went to place his cucumber to best advantage in the vegetable show, and Ellen had a quick look round before she took up her position at the gate to the rose garden. She’d got a chair there and a little table with a toffee tin to hold the money, and Tom had agreed with Mrs Stellion that visitors were to be charged tuppence to enter, the fee to go to the war veterans’ charity that the fête supported every year. He also warned her to keep an eye out for visitors with secateurs.

‘One year – oh, it was a long while back now, when the fête was held here every time – we had a couple of women coming away with bouquets of blooms they’d helped themselves to. There’s no end to folk’s cheek, you know.’

At half past two Mr Stellion declared the Little Grindle Village Fête 1956 open, and the crowd – which had gathered to hear him exhorting them to spend generously – quickly dispersed to do so.

‘And what are your duties today, Gina?’ James asked, appearing at her side.

‘Oh, I shall be that busy …’

‘Doing …?’

‘Enjoying myself, mostly.’

‘May I ask, would you care to enjoy yourself with me?’

‘Thank you, but I know everyone here and I don’t need to be escorted round.’

‘But I do, Gina. I can’t remember the names of half these people, though I’m sure I ought to know them. Please, take pity on me and whisper their names in my ear so I don’t look a complete ass.’

‘I doubt I can save you from making an ass of yourself,’ she replied.

‘Oh, Gina, don’t be hard on me. Help me out here. Who’s that, for instance?’ He pointed.

‘Mrs Beveridge from Highview Farm.’

‘And that?’

‘Reggie Travers.’

‘And that?’

She giggled and slapped his hand down. ‘It’s your mother, of course.’

‘I thought I recognised the little dog she’s holding. See, I’m hopeless without you.’

‘Come on, then,’ said Gina, sighing dramatically. ‘I fancy having a go at the coconut shy.’

They went off to the far side of the lawn where a queue of people was forming to hurl wooden balls at coconuts on stands.

James managed to throw and smoke at the same time. He had a cricketer’s speedy action and felled one of the coconuts at the second attempt.

‘Here you are,’ he said, presenting it to Gina.

‘What am I supposed to do with this?’

‘I’ve no idea. Is it edible?’

‘It might be if I ever got into it. Mrs Bassett will know what to do with it, I expect.’

Gina carried it around for a bit and then left it behind on purpose at the white elephant stall.