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an enormous removal van blocking the gate to the vicarage.

      ‘Woof-woof,’ said Jenna and started to giggle. Simon, hearing her, turned and said, ‘Ah, this is my wife, Penny, and my daughter, Jenna. Darling, these chaps have come all the way from Surrey. I said you wouldn’t mind putting the kettle on for them. It’s damned cold out here.’

      Penny fought the urge to scream and said coldly, ‘There are two dogs fouling my garden. Are they yours?’

      The oldest of the matching sweatshirts, the foreman Penny guessed, rubbed his cold hands together then pointed to a man who was trying to open the front door of Marguerite Cottage, and said, ‘They belong to him.’

      A man in his early-thirties, scruffily dressed in old jeans and a T-shirt with a stripey jumper over the top, was patiently trying one key at a time from the bunch in his hand.

      ‘Excuse me!’ shouted Penny.

      ‘No need to shout, darling,’ said Simon, taking her arm. She shrugged him off. ‘How can he hear me otherwise?’ she hissed.

      The man had got the door open and had turned to give the three removal men the thumbs up.

      ‘Excuse me!’ Penny shouted again. ‘Are these dogs yours?’

      The man smiled and lifted his hand in an apologetic greeting.

      ‘I’m awfully sorry.’ He came towards them and held out his hand. ‘Hello. My name is Kit and I’m your new neighbour. I’m moving into Marguerite Cottage.’

      Penny didn’t take his hand. ‘Would you please remove your dogs from my garden and clear up any mess you find? My daughter is learning to walk and I like to keep the garden clean and safe.’

      ‘Oh yes, of course.’ Kit kept up his warm smile. ‘I’m so sorry.’ He called to the dogs. ‘Terry, Celia – come here.’ The animals ambled towards him and allowed him to rub their ears.

      ‘Welcome to Pendruggan, Kit. I’m Simon.’ Simon held out his hand. ‘Lovely dogs.’

      Kit shook Simon’s proffered hand. ‘Celia thinks she owns the world. She definitely rules me. Terry is very easy-going but don’t try to befriend him. If he likes you, you’ll know.’

      ‘Please don’t let them come in to my garden again,’ said Penny.

      ‘Woof-woofs,’ said Jenna, straining sideways to get out of Penny’s arms and down to the dogs.

      ‘No, darling, don’t touch them. They may bite,’ she ordered.

      Kit smiled at her. ‘Well, they haven’t bitten anyone yet, but let’s not tempt it on our first meeting, shall we?’

      Penny switched her attention to the removal men who were clearly waiting for their cup of tea. ‘How long will you be blocking our drive?’

      ‘I’ve said they can take as long as they like.’ Simon smiled. ‘It’s easier for everybody if they tuck in here, off the road. Marguerite doesn’t have easy access. And we don’t need to go out again today, do we?’

      ‘I may want to go out,’ Penny said through clenched teeth.

      ‘What for?’ smiled Simon.

      While Penny was thinking of an answer Queenie, dressed in a moth-eaten fur coat and with a scarf wrapped round her head, approached them from the shop. She was going as fast as her arthritic hips would let her, keen not to miss out on a bit of village news.

      ‘I saw the lorry and I thought, “Ooh there’s me new neighbours.” I like to welcome anyone new to the village, don’t I, vicar?’

      ‘You certainly do. Gentlemen, this is Queenie who runs the village shop and is the fountain of all local knowledge.’

      Queenie smiled and pretended to be abashed. ‘Oh, he’s a charmer is our vicar. Anyways, I bet you boys are ’ungry, so I’ve brought you some of me famous pasties. They’re yesterday’s, but I’ve heated them up so they’ll be fine.’

      ‘Thank you very much,’ said the chief removal man gratefully. ‘They’ll go down lovely with a cup of tea.’ He looked hopefully at Penny who refused to catch his eye.

      Inside the vicarage, the phone began to ring. Penny passed Jenna to Simon. ‘I’ll get it. And don’t put Jenna anywhere near those dogs or their poo.’

      Queenie watched her go. ‘She’s always busy, that one. I don’t think you’ll get a cup of tea out of her today. Eat them pasties before they go cold and I’ll go and make the tea. Come up to the shop in a minute, ’cause I can’t carry an ’eavy tray down ’ere.’

      She patted the pockets of her original 1950s fur coat. ‘I nearly forgot. This ’ere is the post what’s come for the new tenants of Marguerite Cottage.’ She handed over several letters. ‘Most of them is the electric company and water and so on but one of them looks like a card. Probably welcoming them boys into their new ’ome.’ She screwed up her eyes and squinted through her rather greasy spectacles. ‘Doctor Adam Beauchamp and—’ Simon stopped her from continuing. ‘Queenie, this is Kit, our new neighbour. I think that post is for him.’

      Queenie was unembarrassed. ‘Pleased to meet you, I’m sure. Our postman, Freddie, ’e’s ever so good, he asked me to look after these for you.’ She handed the envelopes to their rightful owner.

      ‘Thank you.’ He took them from her. ‘Those pasties smell awfully good.’

      ‘Oh they are,’ grinned Queenie. ‘Come with me up the shop and I’ll get one for you if you help me with the tea tray.’

      ‘It would be my pleasure. Do you mind if the dogs come too?’

      ‘Not at all. I ’eard you two had dogs. That’s lovely. Like children to you, I ’spect. By the way I’m not just the village shop, I’m the postmistress too, you know.’

      Simon watched them go and felt it safe to let Jenna down from his arms.

      Penny shouted at him from the front door, ‘Simon! Please come. Quickly. Something terrible has happened.’ She was pale with shock.

      Simon picked up Jenna and ran to his wife.

       3

      ‘What on earth is it?’ Simon steered Penny with one hand, all the while gripping Jenna who was wriggling under his opposite arm, into the drawing room. ‘Sit down and tell me.’

      Penny sat shakily, her hands in her lap, her fingers weaving restlessly. She stared, unfocussed, at their wedding picture on the wall.

      Simon waited.

      ‘Mumma?’ Jenna put her arms out and whined for reassurance. ‘Mumma?’

      Penny spoke. ‘It’s my mother. An old friend just rang. Thought I should know. She’s dead.’

      Simon frowned and put his hand on Penny’s. ‘Your mother is dead?’

      Penny nodded, her face almost grey with shock.

      ‘Is she sure, your friend? How does she know?’

      ‘It was announced in the local paper.’

      ‘When?’

      ‘Last week, but she’s only just seen it.’

      ‘But why didn’t Suzie tell you?’

      Penny shrugged helplessly. ‘We haven’t spoken since that terrible lunch. Maybe she thought I didn’t want to know? Maybe she thought I wouldn’t speak to her if she had called? Or maybe,’ she brushed a tear from her eye, ‘she’s punishing me just a little bit more.’

      ‘But, darling.’ Simon stood before her his hands in his corduroy trousers, out of his depth. Penny had never

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