‘Same as Mum, same as our Gina: I never want to set eyes on that monster again.’

Sally reached out and silently gave Ellen’s arm a squeeze and they turned off the road and into the fields to cut the corner from the journey.

When they reached Great Grindle Main Street, there was an unusual amount of traffic backed up along the road, moving slowly.

‘Mebbe an accident,’ suggested Sally, ‘though I can’t see any sign … Oh, it’s a funeral! That explains it.’

The funeral cortège was already ahead of them and they followed it up the road. At Bookworm Cottage they opened the gate and went up the path to knock on Mr Shepherd’s door. There was a long wait. Just when the girls were beginning to get anxious, the door opened and there was Mr Shepherd with his walking stick.

‘Come in, Sally and Ellen. I’m a bit slow today, with my hip, but I’m glad to see you.’

The girls went in, each giving him a hug.

‘We saw a funeral procession just now on Main Street,’ Sally announced, bursting with curiosity. ‘Do you know whose? I hope it wasn’t a friend of yours.’

‘No, not a friend exactly, Sally, but someone I was acquainted with from the library van: Mrs Thwaite. Ellen, you’ll remember her, as I reckon you must have crossed over at the Hall. Widow, nice enough in her way, but no sense of humour.’

‘Oh! Yes, of course. Goodness, I’d no idea she’d died. She wasn’t that old, was she?’

‘Younger than me,’ said Mr Shepherd with a slight smile. ‘Heart attack, I was told. I wonder you hadn’t heard, Ellen, what with your sister taking over when the lady broke her arm last year.’

‘I’ve heard nowt about her, I’m afraid. Oh dear, I wonder if they know at the Hall. But why wouldn’t they? Yet … oh, I’m a bit confused. I’m sure I would have heard, though not necessarily from Lucas Hillier in the library van.’

Ellen and Sally exchanged looks.

‘He’s not chatty,’ Sally said.

‘So I gather,’ said Mr Shepherd, drily. ‘Ah, well, there we are. It’ll come to us all in the end … and in the meantime there’s more books to read than any of us’d manage if we lived to be a hundred.’

‘True,’ smiled Ellen. ‘Shall I make a pot of tea, Mr Shepherd, and then you can tell us what you think of My Family and Other Animals? I can hardly believe we managed to recommend a book to you that you hadn’t already read!’

On the way home the girls discussed the news about Mrs Thwaite.