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The festival tent contained rows and rows of blue plastic seats from the local secondary school. Grant took centre stage and his voice boomed through the speakers. My chair sank into the grass because it had rained the week before the festival. I peered up at the white material forming the ceiling of the tent and felt the heat of the sun shining through the murky plastic windows. Delicate aromas of cut grass and damp earth and the mumble of voices from the audience reminded me of a music festival. There were no more messages from Danny on my phone, and I was starting to feel a little flat.

The crowd laughed and cheered when the proprietor of Heatherbridge Sweetshop enjoyed her moment as Mrs Pratchett from Roald Dahl’s Boy . Grant kissed her hand and gave her the prize for the best shop window display. With her toothless grin, she glared at the audience and said, ‘Now, children, you’d better take care if you come to my shop.’ And then she clicked her fingers, dry ice covered the stage and Jemima appeared with a huge basket of chocolates in the shape of mice.

Grant made a circular movement with his hand and bowed gracefully. ‘Now it is my pleasure to award the prize for the best costume to a star of the future.’ He waited for a drumroll. ‘Jemima Laine, please accept your trophy.’

When Jemima took centre stage, her presence made me certain she would follow in her mother’s footsteps one day. She thanked her mother, the designer of her costume, her father and then me for helping her to win the prize.

Felix squeezed my hand and mouthed, ‘Thank you.’

My mother’s eagle eyes homed in on the contact instantly, but my thoughts were tuned into Danny who promised to be here for the awards. I resisted the temptation to check my phone, telling myself he was different to Matt. And he kind of mentioned love.

Lights dimmed, the caretaker brought a stool over for Grant to sit on and he read out the winning entry of the Short Story Bash. I clasped my hands as my character, Claudette, walked the streets of Paris again, and she stepped inside one of the paintings on Robert’s stall. Grant delivered the tension so well I heard the audience gasp. Hearing the story took me back to Paris and the day spent with Danny, but a nagging feeling hooked into my memories and my mouth went dry. My thoughts switched to Laura gate-crashing our evening, then I imagined her arriving in England.

‘And the winner is, the marvellous Maisie,’ said Grant.

When on the stage, I scanned the audience and yearned to see Danny clapping furiously but there was still no sign of him. The previous night played into my head, stopping at the moment he kissed my stomach. He told me we made all kinds of magic happen last night. Danny was genuine and I had to believe in him. Maybe the spotlight shining in my eyes prevented me from locating him in the crowd. Squeezing my eyes shut, I willed everything to be OK. Winning the trophy did not seem so important anymore, and I could not budge Danny from my head. I could already imagine him in my life.

Before I could climb down from the stage, someone barged me to the side, almost knocking the trophy out of my grasp.

Camellia rushed past me. She grabbed the microphone from Grant, tapped it with her fingers to test it was on and said, ‘Stop! We’ve reason to believe that Maisie has stolen her aunt’s story. We’ve found evidence of Ada’s plans for the story in her writing room.’ She whispered something in Grant’s ear.

Faces watched and laughter surrounded me. ‘You’ve been snooping in my house and potting shed,’ I mumbled to Camellia as she walked past me.

Camellia adjusted her pinafore and retrieved the trophy with her head held high. ‘This trophy is for our friend Ada, and we believe she has been kidnapped.’ She pointed her finger at me. ‘You’ve stolen her cottage and money and taken over her life.’

This did not make any sense. ‘Aunt Ada gave me the cottage, Camellia.’

‘That as may be, but you got greedy and wanted her money and story. As much as I find Maisie charming, it is my duty to bring justice in this village. My late husband would’ve expected it. He was a police officer and security guard for the dairy.’ Camellia removed the postcard from her bag, put on her glasses and read, ‘ Dearest Maisie,

If I go missing, you will inherit all of my money and your gran’s recipe book .’

She paused to wait for her crowd to respond.

Again, laughter from the audience echoed in the room. Grant made his way to the microphone. ‘Ladies, gentlemen and everyone,’ he announced.

‘Peter, the evidence,’ shouted Camellia. ‘The photo of Ada.’

‘But… Are you sure, my love?’ Peter removed the microphone from Grant. ‘Here are some photographs taken by Camellia yesterday.’ He clicked his fingers and there on the screen was a large, blurred image of someone’s thumb and the road.

Camellia shook her head. ‘Not that one, the potting shed.’

He nodded and there was a blurred image of me sitting in the armchair in the potting shed. Camellia must have been taking photographs from Danny’s garden, and now I remembered the flashes of light when I was working. The trail of clues had certainly pushed them into action.

‘Look, there’s Ada,’ said Camellia, pointing to the screen. ‘Maisie is keeping her aunt captive to step into her shoes and steal her money. Something has to be done about this.’ She crossed her arms and waited but the room was silent.

‘But that’s a photo of me in the potting shed. The photo is blurred. This isn’t evidence.’ I stated the facts clearly, desperate to shout out my aunt was alive and well in Paris. Where the hell was Danny? I was trapped in Camellia’s fiction and there was a wall of laughter around me from the amused audience.

Grant ran down the steps and chatted to the man sitting in front of the laptop. The image was expanded to reveal the profile of my face. ‘As you can all see, this is Maisie. Well done, Miss Marple,’ he said, shaking Nora’s hand. ‘And thank you, Alice in Wonderland, for this dramatic and memorable conclusion to the Heatherbridge Book Festival. Your acting is amazing. And now I do believe you are late for a very important date.’

Felix glided down the aisle and clapped. ‘A round of applause please for these wonderful women who are so important to our community. What would we do without Nora and Camellia keeping us entertained?’

‘Yes,’ shouted Danny at the back of the tent. ‘Nora and Camellia are at the heart of this community. But for now, if you’d all like to make your way outside, there’s a surprise for Heatherbridge Dale.’ When our glance connected, I was sure images of last night also flashed through his head.

Butterflies did the samba in my stomach, yet still I wanted to ask where he had been hiding and glanced around for Laura. But stranded on the stage with my heart pounding, I observed people stream out of the tent and tried to ignore that I had been accused of kidnapping my aunt. ‘Come on, Nora and Camellia.’ I hooked my arms inside theirs to show I would not hold any grudges. ‘Let’s see what it is.’ What was Danny up to?

The crowd parted for the three of us and we were greeted with the grumble of an engine outside. A large vintage van pulled up. As I got closer to the van, I could see it was covered in colourful illustrations. Stepping closer I noticed a picture of me with the wheelbarrow packed with books, and there were beautiful scenes of Yorkshire in the background. ‘Bookbus’ was painted in a green script with books growing on a vine.

The driver’s door opened, and Aunt Ada stepped out. ‘Ta-dah!’ When she held out her arms it showed off the large baggy sleeves of the blouse and lots of bangles on her wrists.

I hugged her. ‘You’re back,’ I whispered, shaking with excitement. ‘The bus is amazing. I love it!’

Camellia narrowed her eyes, then Nora placed her hands on her hips.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Camellia. ‘You can’t park the van here, madam, even if you’re a friend of Maisie’s. There’s a car park on the way into the village.’ She pushed Ada to one side to scan the crowd. ‘We’re waiting for a surprise.’

Nora nudged her. ‘Ada Bloom. I knew it. Not much gets past my powers of detection. Everyone thought I’d gone mad.’ She pulled Aunt Ada towards her. ‘Where’ve you been? My goodness, you’ve lost weight. You need to eat something. Do you want a big piece of cake? Where have you been hiding? Have you just managed to escape? My poor, Ada. What’s happened to you?’

‘She’s been with me in Paris,’ said Robert.

Taking in Robert’s black jeans and crisp white shirt, Nora grinned and patted her hair. ‘Oh, my word. I see, and that new image is so glamorous. My goodness.’

Ada patted Nora on the back. ‘I’ve been in Paris with my lover, but my new image has, I’m afraid, been the result of illness.’ Holding up her hand, she put her finger to her lips. ‘I don’t want your sympathy. I’m having a ball in Paris, and it’s lovely to see what Maisie has done to the cottage.’

‘I… I’m sorry but I missed you and I didn’t know about Camellia’s stupid evidence. Maisie has been good and set up the book reviewing service on the blog. Before that, we used to buy books from the wheelbarrow. She’s a chip off the old block.’ Now Nora dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief and squeezed Ada’s hand.

‘The book barrow gave us an idea and then I realised I didn’t need the camper van anymore,’ said Aunt Ada, grinning.

‘It’s all very well coming back to life in this dramatic fashion that reminds me of Bella. But truth is, you’re not Bella and this is real life. Why have you worried us all so much?’ asked Camellia.

‘I needed time alone with Robert. You and Peter know how it is.’ She winked. ‘Come and have a look inside the van.’

Aunt Ada opened the back doors to reveal a compact library. Now peering down at everyone from inside the van, Aunt Ada said, ‘Bookbus is for the local community. It’s the new library we all fought for, inspired by my niece’s book barrow. A gift to the community from us and the artists in Paris who have painted it.’ And Ada gave her a beaming smile. ‘Now, I’ll see you all in the Heatherbridge Arms because it’s cocktail o’clock very soon.’

Ada waved as everyone headed back towards the garden and waited for the crowd to disperse. ‘Maisie, love, come here.’ She walked away from the van. ‘Your book barrow project inspired us. It’s been such an adventure coming back here. You’re doing well with your writing, darling, so keep going. I’m proud you won the competition, but there will be so many ups and downs, believe me. Writing is like a good wine; it needs to mature. Always believe something wonderful is about to happen, Maisie.’

‘Something wonderful has already happened to me.’ Danny grinned at me.

Thumping him lightly on the arm I said, ‘I wish you’d told me where you were. I’ve been worried because the last time you dashed of you went off with L -’ I wanted to get the anxiety out in the open and out of my head.

He wiggled his fingers in his ears. ‘Who? What?’ I can’t hear you after the explosion in my ears last night. You’re well and truly stuck with me now. I’ve been dreaming of our life together all the way back from Dover. I hope Ada couldn’t read my mind.’

I laughed, feeling daft for doubting him and wished we did not have to go to the party.

‘I’ve waited all day to see you again. I couldn’t believe my eyes this morning when I had a cryptic message from your aunt.’ Danny held up the keys to the bookbus. ‘Do you fancy getting out of here for a bit? You drive.’