Cider tasting in the orchard barn! Damson wine! Damson and apple pies! Cakes! Tarts! Crumbles! Jams and chutneys!

Next Sunday evening, a time that my rigorous research into Ferrington goings-on revealed had absolutely nothing going on whatsoever. Even the takeaway vendors were shut. Both pubs were open, but they were always open, and neither of them were offering free drinks.

Underneath the giant font pronouncing THREE FREE SAMPLES PER PERSON, I added, in much smaller font, that there would be a ‘short talk from a local about Ferrington’s glorious farming history’. There. Now, no one could boo me when I gave a presentation that would of course mention Ferrington’s pre-mining history, before perhaps then dropping a hint or two about how this could inform a potentially glorious future.

In order to cover all bases, I adapted the posts into real A4 posters, and printed out a pile of copies while Daniel was bathing Hope, ready to pin to every spare lamp post and available noticeboard the next day.

All I had to do now was use my nationally acclaimed writing skills to pen a speech so convincing in its brilliance that everyone who heard it would be too enthralled to either shout me down, run me out of town or wallop me over the head with a bottle of cider. And, immediately after that we could get on with raising the funds to build the Ferrington peace bridge.

You’re welcome.

19

On Tuesday, after a morning sanding the hall floor, which Hope decided was alternately hilarious and terrifying, I realised with a jolt that it was review day. I couldn’t resist peeking at Nora Sharp’s social media accounts, just to check Lucy was safe and well, of course. Safe, well and loving every minute of it, it would appear: #GoingGlobal #FlyingHigh #BetterThanEver. I then stuffed Hope into her snowsuit and we walked to the shops to buy bananas, a large slab of chocolate and, while I was there, I thought I might as well chuck in a newspaper.

The latest review was for an exclusive spa resort off the coast of Italy. I spent a few minutes scanning images and wondering why I’d never thought of #GoingGlobal, and then I read the actual review and decided that wreaking havoc and destruction in one country had been more than enough. Nora Sharp was an ill-placed comma away from getting sued. Or fired.

‘Anything interesting?’ Daniel asked, suddenly looming over my shoulder as I hunched at the kitchen table.

‘Not really.’ I twisted myself round to face him, plastering on a casual smile as I splayed myself across the open pages. ‘Just, you know, thought I’d see what was going on back in London.’

‘Missing the big city?’ Twin worry lines appeared at the top of his nose.

‘No!’ I replied, letting out a derisive laugh verging on a cackle. I took a moment to breathe. ‘I’m really not. I love it here. If anything, I’m looking to congratulate myself on making my best decision in years.’