I pressed one hand to my wheezing chest. ‘And you arranged to meet me here why, exactly?’

Alice handed me a glass of white wine, eyes glinting. ‘Nothing to get your knickers in a knot about. These lot know where the balance of power lies.’

‘And you didn’t think to warn me?’

‘Nothing to warn you about!’ She waved her hands at the now settled room. ‘Besides, I thought it would be good practice for them, having a new face turn up. Prise open their narrow minds a fraction. Isn’t that what you wanted to talk to me about?’

I took a long slow sip of wine, eyes closed as I regained my composure. ‘I’m driving, obviously, I can’t actually drink this.’

‘Drink away. It’s on the house. Ray over there starts his Uber shift in a couple of hours. He’ll drop you back, no worries.’

I was very worried, actually. Although, the more wine that settled in my stomach, the more I remembered that this totally proved my whole point, that the village was in dire need of someone to come up with a brilliant idea to end all this nonsense once and for all.

Alice wasn’t so sure.

‘You want to what?’ she whispered, leaning across the bar, eyes darting.

‘Just an initial meeting, so we can get the ball rolling.’

‘Did you see what happened here, less than an hour ago?’

‘I did.’ I stifled a hiccup. ‘And I also saw that people actually need both sides. And they know it. The doctors, MOTs, they’re just the tip of the iceberg. I’ve been looking into conflict resolution in small communities, and what we need is one person to stand up and speak out. The key is making sure that it’s the right person – someone people listen to, and respect. Someone with standing, who wields power. Once you—’

‘Blummin’ ’eck, Eleanor, do not even joke about that being me!’

‘Once this very specific and wise and lovely person starts advocating for reconciliation, all those other people who secretly want it too, who know full well that it’s in the interests of everyone, once that person speaks up, other people have the courage to join them.’

‘No.’ She leant back, whipped her towel over her shoulder and went to serve more drinks.

Okay, stealth attack it was then.

After briefly contemplating walking home, wading across the river where it wound around the edge of the farm, I decided to save that escapade for warmer times, instead calling Daniel and offering him a cinnamon apple crumble in exchange for a lift home.

While I waited for him to arrive, I posted an event on each of the Ferrington Facebook groups. I’d been invited to enough events over the past few years to understand what motivated people to turn up to them. The difficulty in this case had been finding a suitable location. While admiring the impressive range of fruit ciders behind the Boatman bar, I’d had an idea that hit every base with one genius stroke, if I did say so myself.