The words almost stuck in my throat as I said them, but I didn’t want an atmosphere. Sylvia and Harry would be returning to the farm tomorrow, and back to Spain in a couple of days. We wouldn’t have to see them again for ages and I didn’t want them to leave thinking badly of me, for Jack’s sake. I would have to grit my teeth and try to be on my best behaviour until they left.

‘That’s all right, love. I’m only concerned for your well-being, that’s all.’ Sylvia’s smile was syrupy. She patted the seat next to her. ‘Come and sit here and tell me all about your neighbour. Jack was telling his dad what a help she’s been. She’s getting on a bit though, isn’t she? I hope it isn’t too much for her …’

I tried to relax and enjoy the evening, not get too het up by her insensitive remarks, but was massively relieved when they eventually turned in for the night. Conversation had been a strain thereafter, particularly when Sylvia had started talking about Mrs Barley and how it wasn’t a good idea to get too friendly with neighbours.

‘It’s fine when things are going well. But if you have a falling-out, well, you can’t avoid them, can you? It can make for an uncomfortable existence when someone lives right on your doorstep and there’s been a disagreement. Best to be civil but not get too involved; that’s what I always say. We’ve got some nice new neighbours in Spain – a retired couple from Kent who’ve bought the flat upstairs. The chap’s asked Harry to go for a pint a couple of times. But we won’t be getting too pally with them, will we, love?’

Harry threw her a withering look. ‘If you say so, my dear. Anything for a quiet life.’

Sylvia gave a high-pitched laugh. ‘Oh, you. You know it makes sense really.’

From Harry’s face, it was clear that the chance to escape his domineering wife for a while might have made a welcome change, but apparently he wasn’t going to have that option. At least while he was still running the farm, he had been out most of the day. He must have been finding their change in circumstances claustrophobic. I felt increasingly sorry for him.

‘Oh, Jack – did we tell you that Lauren got married last month? Matt went to the church service. The whole village turned out for it, apparently. He said she looked beautiful. Well, she always did look a picture, didn’t she?’

I bristled. The mention of Jack’s perfect ex-fiancée was something Sylvia seemed unable to resist slipping into the conversation at some point whenever we saw her. I glanced at Jack, who appeared irritated.