‘Oh, fortune-telling. Now this I’ve got to try,’ said James, when they reached a little tent with a flap over the entrance and a lot of red and black bunting festooning the outside.

‘Madame Bettina Predicts Your Future’ read the sign.

‘Shall I come in with you?’

‘No, better not. I think the readings are meant to be private. Maybe I’ll tell you when I come out – depends, though, what I learn.’ He waggled his eyebrows theatrically.

James went inside and Gina decided not to wait for him to reappear. It wasn’t as if he wouldn’t tell her later what had happened. And did she care anyway?

She decided to go to look at the vegetable show, which had just been judged. The tent was crowded as people waited to hear who had won ‘Best in Show’.

‘Dad, what are you doing here? I thought this wasn’t the kind of thing you like.’ This was not a good start, Gina reflected. Still, at least if he was here he wasn’t at home getting worked up about other folk enjoying themselves. There had been other occasions she’d rather not remember …

‘I can come if I want, can’t I?’

‘It’s just … Well, never mind. Here you are. Have you entered owt in the competition?’

‘Nah, it’s daft, isn’t it, growing those great monsters of veg? Who’d want to eat those?’

‘Shush, Reggie Travers is reading out the names of the winners.’

‘… And the winner of “Best in Show” goes to Fred Hardcastle for his display of onions.’

Fred came forward, blushing and holding his cap, to receive the little cup from Edith.

‘Gina, hello again,’ said Penelope as she and Diana appeared. ‘This is fun. I’ve never been to a village fête before.’

‘I’m introducing Piggy to all our neighbours,’ said Diana. ‘It’s a great turn-out.’

‘Yes, so difficult to remember who’s who with so many people,’ beamed Penelope. ‘Though, of course, I do remember meeting your father yesterday, Gina. I saw him just now taking over from your sister in the rose garden.’

Puzzled, Gina half turned to Philip, but Penelope was gushing on.

‘Now you’ve got your hair up I can see you’ve got the same little mark as he has on his arm, and there’s definitely a family resemblance— Ow, Di, that was my foot.’

Gina turned to introduce Philip and put right the mistake, but he was already barging his way through the crowd to the marquee entrance.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked Penelope, seeing Gina and Diana’s faces.

‘Sorry, Gina,’ said Diana. ‘Piggy didn’t mean to upset your father.’

Penelope looked confused. ‘Your father? Oh dear, I’ve said the wrong thing, haven’t I?’