Daisy turned to Grady. ‘Are you going to show Auntie Laurel your workshop at Mistletoe Cottage?’

‘Mistletoe Cottage?’ queried Laurel, her interest diverted. ‘On the corner of Ladies Lane and Port Road? I remember when it was owned by a lady who had two enormous poodles. I can’t remember her name. Wasn’t she the sister of Gwen at Crowthers?’

‘What’s Crowthers?’ Daisy demanded.

They turned and headed back towards the outbuilding as Laurel replied. ‘The village shop. When I lived here Gwen Crowther owned it and the poodle lady was her sister.’

But Grady was shaking his head at Laurel, smiling. ‘Gwen’s cousin. Those were the biggest poodles I’ve ever seen.’

‘Oh, Booze & News,’ Daisy interjected. ‘Melanie runs it. She’s a right old nosy cow. People call her The Village News.’

‘Heart of gold though,’ Grady said peaceably. Then, to Laurel, ‘Gwen and her husband retired to Hunstanton. Poodle Lady died and someone from London updated Mistletoe Cottage. When they decided they didn’t like village life, I bought it. No mistletoe now, though,’ he added. ‘They cut the trees down where it used to grow so they could make a drive. Times change.’

‘Shame,’ Laurel said. She’d quite enjoyed the little catch-up but wasn’t about to go into memories about mistletoe. Times did change but memories remained.

Daisy collected her willow whips and Grady pulled an enormous bag from under the shelf to carry the gourds. They set off together, pausing at the paddock gate. Daybreak – or Dave – came over again, nodding her head coquettishly.

Laurel stroked her neck. ‘Poor you, Daybreak. Your owner calls you Dave, Snobby doesn’t want anything to do with you and you’re stuck in this paddock.’ Daybreak flicked her ears and sighed, her breath clouding in the chilly winter air. Judging by the pale grey sky – and the weather forecast – snow was on the way again. Laurel thought Daybreak would look magical in the snow but hoped she’d be warm enough.

Grady gave Daybreak a pat. ‘You used to ride, Laurel. You could take her out.’

She laughed, making Daybreak toss her head. ‘I haven’t ridden since I was sixteen.’

‘She was good,’ Grady told Daisy. ‘She used to sneak into the paddock at Carlysle House and ride a horse there, bareback, with just a halter. It belonged to the son of the house but he was the kind who only had a horse because his public school mates had one.’

‘The horse was a beautiful black gelding called Dark Magic,’ Laurel said, realising there were still a few threads to connect ‘Laurel Then’ to ‘Laurel Now’. Poodle Lady. Dark Magic. Grady …

‘And no one saw you?’ Daisy asked disbelievingly.