Over by the red-brick house, Laurel saw that three men had gathered. She recognised Gabe because he still had the silver ponytail she remembered, though it was longer and thinner now. One of the other men wore a cap and had a white fluffy beard, and the last was Grady, his dark hair blowing, a bit like Snobby’s mane.

Daisy snorted a quiet laugh. ‘That man in the middle looks like Santa Claus.’

Gabe raised his voice to call, ‘Hello, there.’ His accent sounded clipped and middle-class. Rea had reminded Laurel that he’d been a bank manager until he’d given up the urban grind for a bucolic lifestyle. His marriage hadn’t survived his move to Middledip and he was happy alone, wearing mismatching clothing and avoiding haircuts.

As the men ambled over to join them, Daisy said, ‘This is my auntie Laurel.’

‘Hello, Auntie Laurel,’ said Gabe gravely, though with twinkling eyes. ‘Meet my uncle Bertie.’ He gestured towards the man with the fluffy white beard.

‘I’m Bertie Piercy,’ the bearded man said. He sounded much like Gabe. ‘My bungalow in Aylesbury is being rewired and replumbed so I’m seeking refuge and learning to be eccentric from my nephew.’ He looked to be in his eighties, which was maybe ten or twelve years older than Gabe, but judging from the way they grinned at each other, they got along.

Gabe shook Laurel’s hand. ‘If I’m eccentric then I’m proud of it. You know Grady?’

‘We go way back,’ said Grady, which led to explanations about Laurel’s history with the village.

‘Ah, Rea’s sister,’ Gabe exclaimed. ‘How’s she doing?’

Daisy soon tired of the catching-up session. ‘Have you bought a new pony?’ she asked Gabe. ‘Is he company for Snobby or are you going to ride him? Or drive him with your old cart?’

Gabe looked pained. ‘It’s a “pony trap”, not a cart. And she’s Bertie’s pony.’

A beaming smile burst over Bertie’s face, as much as could be seen between cap and beard. ‘His name’s Dave.’

Gabe looked still more pained. ‘Her name’s Daybreak.’

Bertie made a scornful noise. ‘Cissy name. I didn’t mean to buy a girl. What if Snobby gets frisky with her?’

Gabe threw back his head and laughed. ‘Even if he had a stepladder and I’d just fed him a tonne of oats, Snobby’s too old, grumpy and antisocial. And he’s a gelding.’

‘He’s had the snip?’ Bertie enquired with the air of seeking clarity.

‘Castrated when he was a colt,’ Gabe confirmed.

Laurel assumed Bertie’s ignorance was exaggerated for fun but Gabe’s next words proved her wrong.