As Becky ran through the list of people she wanted to thank, she then took a deep breath, lifted her chin and said, ‘I would like to finish by thanking Nora Sharp, the well-known food and event reviewer, for taking the time and trouble to come and visit our little festival. I do hope that having seen what Damson Day is all about, you’ll be able to write one of your inspirational, positive reviews!’ She paused then, thrown by the sneer on Nora’s face, before pressing on, voice now wavering. ‘Well. Either way, all publicity is good publicity, right?’

‘Let’s put it this way – it’ll be an honest write-up.’

Nora, to my surprise, stepped out of the crowd and went to stand by Becky. She allowed the stunned silence to linger, sharp eyes roaming over the shocked faces, until they stopped dead. On me.

‘Eleanor.’ She smiled. It felt as though the temperature suddenly plummeted about twenty degrees. ‘Finally decided to stop hiding from me?’ She waited for me to reply, but I couldn’t breathe, let alone speak. ‘I’m sure you’re all wondering why I bothered travelling over a hundred miles into the backside of nowhere, for a – and I’m being polite here because children are present – bog-standard little fete. I had a backstage pass for Take That at the O2 tonight. Why on earth would I come here? Well. I’m sure Eleanor Sharpley could explain perfectly.’

She thrust one pointed finger in my direction, which felt a little overdramatic, but that was Lucy for you. There was a collective hiss from the people around me. I think I swayed a little, but my head was numb so it was hard to tell.

‘Yes, up until January this year, I was Nora Sharp’s assistant. That Nora Sharp. I spent two years devoted to building her profile, curating her image, standing in for her at events and in the videos. Painstakingly planning her diary. Editing her reviews so that they are actually readable. Basically, doing it all while getting paid in a few cast-off clothes and leftovers.

‘And then, the moment my videos started outshining her sad little columns, she fired me. Via answerphone message. Oh, don’t look so surprised – what else would you expect from Nora? A generous redundancy package and a goodbye hug? She didn’t even write me a reference. Although I ended up not needing one, because the moment her editor knew I’d been dumped, he fired her and gave the real Nora the job.’

‘That still doesn’t explain why you’re here, or what that has to do with Damson Day!’ Alice, God bless her, called out. ‘This is about the Ferrington Feud, not whatever issues you happen to have going on with Eleanor.’

Nora went deathly still. I could feel the animosity of her stare boring through my head into the back of my skull. ‘I thought it only right that you knew what you were getting yourselves into. Eleanor Sharpley, Nora Sharp, whoever she’s pretending to be these days, didn’t just try to ruin my life, she’s destroyed countless others over the past few years. Don’t be fooled like I was. Once a lying, secretive, callous bitch who enjoys profiteering from other people’s misery… always the kind of woman who turns up on the doorstep of a supposed best friend – such great friends she hadn’t even realised she’s passed away! – and decides to profiteer from hijacking that friend’s dream! She’ll do anything for attention.’