Pale with fright, the woman retreated to the safety of her car. She glanced back towards us, then revved the engine and hurtled away. Jobie sprang to his feet once more, his tail wagging now that the episode was over.

Stunned by this confrontation, I turned to Mrs Barley. ‘What was that all about? What an awful woman.’

The old lady seemed unfazed. She shrugged. ‘It’s as I told you. Anything happens to anyone round here, and I’m always the one they love to blame.’

‘Who is she? I saw her once before, at the May Day fete, but I haven’t laid eyes on her since.’

‘Her name’s Wendy Wiseacre. She was a horrible child and she’s grown into a worse adult. Fancies herself as a bit of a fortune-teller. Her sister still lives in Avoncote but I believe she moved away from the village a few years ago, so that’s probably why you haven’t seen her about. Her family have had it in for me for years.’

I caught my breath. ‘So – she’s related to Len Wiseacre?’

She looked taken aback by my recognition of the name. ‘Yes. Frank’s friend, if you could call him that. He was her uncle – not that she ever knew him. He died young, long before she was even thought of. Of course, they wanted to pin that all on me, too. I may not have liked the man but I didn’t want to see him dead. But any outsider coming into Avoncote has always been viewed with suspicion – they’re incapable of believing anything’s an accident, always have to apportion blame. You can see that – she even tried to point the finger at you.’

I felt as though shards of ice were creeping up my spine and the veins in my temples began to pulse. Had the woman genuinely seen something in me? I didn’t want to dwell on my past, or any mistakes I may have made. But trying to attribute her nephew’s illness to Mrs Barley in some way was completely far-fetched. How could anyone inflict an ailment on someone without even coming into contact with them? It was laughable.

‘Are you all right, love? You look a bit shaken up. Don’t you let her upset you. You’ve done nothing wrong and neither have I. But we both know that, don’t we?’

I attempted a smile but prayed that my path wouldn’t cross with that of Wendy Wiseacre again. It was bad enough that she and many of the other villagers had it in for Mrs Barley, without them lumping me into the same category. The whole incident had left me with a sense of dread.

*