Laurel wondered whether she’d misunderstood something vital and a big ‘but’ was in the offing, so tried to pre-empt any misunderstanding. ‘So, I’ll receive twelve hundred pounds?’ She didn’t want to discover Selina would net off a hefty commission and claim that was the deal. As it was, she’d have to cough up twenty per cent to the village hall fund.

Selina didn’t cavil. ‘Agreed. I’ll text you the details you need to invoice me, then I’ll transfer the funds. Can I pick it up tomorrow?’

‘All right,’ Laurel said, wrong-footed by a sale of such dreamlike ease and speed. The text containing the dealership email and street address came through within minutes of the call ending, so Laurel created an invoice and sent it over. Within an hour she saw a bank notification of a twelve-hundred-pound credit from Sullivan Fine Art. Oh-kay. She called Selina back. ‘Thanks for prompt payment. When would you like to come for the painting?’

‘I have an appointment in your area about 1 p.m. tomorrow. Noon would suit me,’ Selina suggested.

‘Great.’ Laurel gave her instructions about coming around the house to the studio rather than ringing the bell and interrupting Rea on a call, said goodbye and checked her bank account again. The money was still there. At least something was going right.

Grady’s nephew Niall had been at The Nookery all afternoon and into the early evening. He and Daisy had cooked themselves pizza. Laurel hadn’t been hungry but Rea and Terri had dined on steamed fish and vegetables, trying to keep the calorie count down ready for the Christmas overeating still to come. Christmas Day was only five days away and they were absorbed in planning the baking and adding things to the supermarket order.

Daisy had taken to wearing Christmas pudding earrings and sparkly tops, quite a change from her usual dark hoodies. Niall wasn’t one for sparkly tops but Daisy had pinned a flashing-nose Rudolf badge to his hoodie.

‘Can we all go to the village hall together?’ Daisy asked Laurel, through a mouthful of pizza. ‘’Cos you’ll be taking your car, right? I thought we could give Niall a lift with his drawing and display easel.’

‘Sure,’ Laurel agreed easily.

‘Cheers.’ Niall beamed. ‘Mum and Dad are at Dad’s staff Christmas party.’

Laurel resisted the urge to say, ‘Even better,’ and offered, ‘We can help you carry your stuff inside,’ instead.

Presently, they drove the couple of minutes to the village hall, Daisy claiming the passenger seat by joking with Niall, ‘It’s my auntie’s car so you get the loser’s seat in the back.’