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‘Is there going to be a guided route around the village, bypassing our street?’ demanded one of the women who worked in the 1960s fish and chip shop.

‘Because I don’t think that’s at all fair, and if that’s the case, we ought to be entitled to a deduction in rent that week. A big deduction,’ she added darkly.

Brodie opened his mouth to speak but Callie beat him to it.

‘Look, I haven’t worked out all the details yet,’ she admitted, ‘ but,’ she added quickly, ‘none of you will lose out. If anything, I’d expect an increase in profits. If we do this right, we’ll have an influx of new visitors to the village, and, more than anything, it will be fun !’

She turned her head to the left as if someone was standing beside her and nodded. ‘Absolutely, Isaac. The pub will no doubt be overflowing, so that should please Penny.’

‘It sounds as if one ghost at least is happy enough about it all,’ I murmured.

Aunt Polly nodded. ‘Not just one. There’s not a single dissenting voice among us but wait till the Reverend Silas Alexander gets wind of it. He hates anything that brings more tourists in. That fist of his that he’s always shaking in protest will likely drop off.’

I’d heard about the angry ghost from her before.

Apparently, Silas had been vicar of our local church, All Souls, until he’d died in 1927.

He couldn’t get over the way Rowan Vale had blossomed into a tourist village, and even worse, that we now had a female vicar, Amelia, in his place.

Not for the first time, I wished I had Callie’s gift.

I’d love to have seen his face when he heard the news.

‘When’s the weekend going to happen, Callie?’ called Erin, who worked as a ‘land girl’ at Rowan Farm, which was run as it would have been back in the forties.

Callie glanced at Brodie, who put his arm around her protectively.

‘Well,’ she said nervously, ‘that’s the thing. I know it doesn’t leave us much time, but I was thinking September.’

‘September?’ There were lots of groans and incredulous gasps.

Even I had to admit it didn’t give us much time. It was already July, after all.

‘ Mid -September,’ she said, as if that made it better. ‘I know it’s asking a lot, but?—’

‘You’re not wrong there,’ someone called.

‘We’re more than up to the job,’ Brodie said firmly.

‘We’ve got so much already in place, after all.

It’s not like we’re starting from scratch.

Look, Callie and I are going to work out the details this week and we’ll be sending all the information out to you via the new estate newsletter.

You have all signed up to it, I presume? ’

‘I don’t have the internet,’ said Mr Thwaite. ‘And I can’t say as I want it, neither.’

‘Any household not registered for the email will get a printed version put through their letterbox,’ Brodie assured him. ‘In the meantime, if you do have the internet and you haven’t yet registered for the newsletter, it will really help us if you’d do that.’

‘Sometimes,’ Aunt Polly said, ‘it’s like I’m in a foreign country, the things people say. Internet! Newsletters! What the bloody hell are they when they’re at home?’

‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘All sorted. I signed up for it last week.’

‘Aw, you’re a genius, that’s what you are, Shona Deakin,’ she told me proudly.

‘Bannerman,’ I reminded her. ‘I’m Shona Bannerman.’

‘Hmm. What do you want to keep his name for? I heard tell that you can go back to your maiden name if you like, once you’re divorced, and you’ve been divorced a good while now.’

‘But my daughters are Bannermans,’ I reminded her.

‘Not your Christie,’ she pointed out. ‘She’s a married woman now and?—’

‘Shh,’ I whispered. ‘I’m trying to listen.’

‘As soon as we’ve ironed out more of the details, we’ll let you know,’ Callie promised us.

‘I just wanted to give you the heads up as soon as I could, given how short of time we are. What I really want to know for now is, in principle at least, how many of you are in favour of the 1940s weekend? Can we have a show of hands, please?’

‘Those in favour,’ Brodie called.

A sea of hands shot up.

‘Those against?’

There were half a dozen or so hands that wobbled in the air as if not entirely sure if they should be there or not.

‘Great,’ Callie said happily. ‘That’s carried then. You’ll be hearing from us in the next few days with more details. Thanks so much, all of you, for coming.’

‘Well, would you believe that?’ Aunt Polly said as I got to my feet and grabbed my jacket from the back of the seat. ‘All that fuss and moaning, and when push comes to shove, they nearly all bloody want it!’

‘Of course they do,’ I said, laughing. ‘You should know this village by now, Aunt Polly.’

‘You off to the teashop, love?’ she asked.

I shook my head. ‘Day off. I’m going home to check on Dad and then I’ve got Christie and the kids coming round for dinner, so I’ll be sorting that out. Come back with me if you like?’

She beamed at me. ‘Ooh, I might just do that. I’d like to see the little ones again. You know, I’m almost sure our Maddie could see me. Last time I was at yours, she smiled at me. Directly at me. Least, I think she did. Might have been wind.’

‘Might well have been, but we’ll see, eh? Come on. Let’s go home, and you can keep Dad company in the garden while I peel the potatoes.’