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Julia put the kettle on, and the two women went out of the kitchen door into the back garden. Jake followed, accelerating slightly as he passed the cat – still chomping obliviously away in his place on the counter – and exited the door in relief. Delighted to have made it outside without incident, he bounded over to the chicken coop to greet the residents, six fat chestnut-coloured hens who had bustled their way to the gate in anticipation of a snack.

‘I’ll let them peck around outside for a bit,’ said Julia, jiggling the bolt on the gate. ‘Come on, girls. Go and find those slugs!’

‘Is the cat all right with the hens?’

‘Yes. He watches them, but doesn’t bother them. And they don’t give a toss about The Stare.’

‘Or The Moustache, I presume.’

‘Completely unfazed by that either.’

‘Hens are sensible creatures.’

Julia pulled the gate open. Henny Penny, the largest and boldest hen, came out first, at a brisk trot, heading straight for Jake. He nudged her gently with his soft brown muzzle. She leaned into him for a long moment, then trotted on, heading for the vegetable patch where shiny garden snails could sometimes be found lurking beneath the spinach leaves. Jake followed meekly after her, his eyes soft with affection.

‘Weird chap, your Jake,’ Tabitha muttered with a shake of her head. ‘Him and that chicken.’

‘You’re not wrong. But who can understand true love, really?’

‘Not me, that’s for sure.’ Tabitha said this lightly, but Julia wondered if she didn’t sometimes wish for a loving companion. Julia had thought her own romantic life had likely ended with her marriage three years ago, and no one had been more surprised than her when Dr Sean O’Connor had arrived in her life. His craggy handsome face and lively blue eyes had brought an unexpected flutter to her pulse, but it was his calm good nature and good humour that had truly won her heart.

As the chickens fanned out in search of insects, Tabitha and Julia took their own slow circuit of Julia’s little garden, enjoying the soft sun that fell slanted through the trees. The leaves were starting to show a hint of yellow, and the cool air carried the promise of autumn. It wouldn’t be long before Julia was raking up fallen leaves. Her mind turned to the tasks she would have to take care of ahead of the change of seasons. The garden and house were small, but somehow there was always a lot to do. She must order in more wood for the fire. Cut down the dahlias, which had been magnificent, but were now leggy and falling over. Cover some of the more tender plants. Put in her winter vegetable seeds and seedlings. Cabbages. Carrots. Perhaps she’d give potatoes a try this year.

‘…don’t you think?’ asked Tabitha.

‘Sorry. I was miles away with the potatoes. What did you say? ’

Tabitha gave her a quizzical look, but clearly decided not to investigate the potato comment, instead repeating her unheard observation: ‘I was saying that Roger Grave has done a rather good job of directing the play. I know you had your reservations about him, but he’s been good with the actors, and quite easy-going all round. I was a bit concerned that he might not see it the way that I wrote it, but he’s been really respectful of the text.’

‘Yes. I expected him to be bossy and self-important, which is how he is in his professional life. But he has turned out to be cooperative and quite surprisingly pleasant.’

‘Maybe his move to Edgeley has improved his mood. All that fresh air. The sheep grazing in the meadow, and so on. Calmed him down.’

‘I suspect the poor man’s a frustrated thespian, and is happier in the theatre than in the police station.’

‘A would-be director trapped in the life of a police superintendent. Tragic, it is!’ Tabitha uttered her analysis dramatically, hands clasped together.

Julia laughed at Tabitha’s delivery. ‘I suppose I’m pleased for him that he’s fulfilling a life’s dream of directing a play. And bringing your wonderful writing to life.’

If Julia was a little grudging in her enthusiasm, it was because she herself had brought out the worst in Roger Grave. She had had a series of run-ins with him in the past. In addition to his supercilious manner, he had taken an extremely dim view of her unofficial ‘helping’ on a couple of recent crime cases. Or ‘interference’, as he would call it. But that was a separate matter. He’d been on his best behaviour in the six weeks of rehearsal, and particularly polite to Julia. So much so that now she felt guilty for her judgemental response to Grave, and even a little sorry for him, if he was indeed a reluctant copper with a hankering for the stage. She said, in a conciliatory tone, ‘The theatre does seem to make him happy and bring out the best in him. Fortunately for all concerned, we will be seeing the director side, not the regional superintendent side, of Roger this weekend.’

The whistling of the kettle called them back into the kitchen, where Julia made a pot of Earl Grey tea. She took out the last quarter of the carrot cake she had baked at the weekend.

‘Oooh, I shouldn’t. I’ve got that five pounds to lose,’ said Tabitha, who had been threatening to lose five pounds since they were in their third year at university. Whether they were the same five pounds or different ones was a brain teaser that Julia could never quite crack. But same or different, she didn’t think Tabitha needed to lose them then, or now. She suspected Tabitha didn’t think so either, and mentioned them only out of habit. A suspicion that was reinforced by Tabitha saying, after barely a moment’s hesitation, ‘Ah, all right then, I can’t resist that cream-cheese icing you make, Julia. But just a sliver. For the taste.’

They sorted out the last few accessories over tea and cake. There was a spotted silk cravat and a rakish fake moustache for Graham Powell, who was playing the Charming Good-for-Nothing. For Gina, playing the Friendly Barmaid, there was a frilly apron to wear with a revealingly low-cut and tight-waisted dress that she’d supplied herself. Julia suspected she’d had it specially made to show off her figure – which was indeed quite admirable – and wasn’t admitting it. Tabitha offered to take a policeman’s cap home and repurpose it for Guy, who would be playing the Postman.

‘Good work, team,’ Julia said, snapping her notebook shut.

‘That was fun,’ said Tabitha. ‘I’ll get the cap sorted in time for the dress rehearsal, and I’ll see you on Saturday, for the opening. Is Sean coming?’

‘Yes indeed. “Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” was his response. Am-dram isn’t usually his cup of tea, but he’s excited to see the play that you wrote.’

‘I hope he’ll enjoy it. It think it really is rather well done for an amateur production.’

‘That it is. I’m sure it will be a fun night out for everyone.’