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The school summer holidays were in full swing and, after a week of rather dull and occasionally wet weather, the sunshine had returned, meaning the village was absolutely heaving with tourists.

The teashop was busy, particularly from around eleven o’clock when the rush would begin. It only started to wind down at around four, and I was becoming increasingly grateful for closing time at five each day.

On the evening of the second Thursday in August, she persuaded me to venture out of the cottage and join her at The Quicken Tree for the weekly pub quiz. I was a not-very-reliable member of the Smart Cookies team, which was made up of staff from both teashops and Blighty’s Bakery.

It was a light-hearted evening, and the prizes weren’t much to write home about, but it was fun to catch up with friends and neighbours. Besides, it was better than yet another night in front of the television with Dad’s light snoring to keep me company.

I was pleased to see some of the usual suspects: Callie and Brodie had turned up and were sitting with Clara and Jack Milsom.

Callie had struck up quite a friendship with Clara, as their children attended the same school, and they’d made some sort of arrangement with the school run.

Things would change from September, I realised.

Callie’s daughter, Imogen, and Clara’s eldest, Ashton, would be going to Chipping Royston Academy on the school bus.

I wondered idly if Max would be teaching them German.

As Jack was a train driver, they were part of The Travelling Boffins quiz team, which was made up of station staff, and drivers and clippies from the buses.

I spotted Andie among them. I knew I’d recognised her at the meeting that day in the cinema, and she’d brought Matthew from the station with her.

‘Shouldn’t Callie and Brodie be neutral in this?’ Pippa joked. ‘Looks a bit dodgy if the big bosses are part of The Travelling Boffins.’

‘I shouldn’t worry,’ I told her. ‘They never win anyway.’

‘Fair dos. I’ll get us a drink, Mum. You find us a seat.’

I made my way over to where the other members of The Smart Cookies were sitting and looked around for Amelia but there was no sign of her.

Maybe she was busy with work. Or maybe she was with Tully, I thought with a sudden wistfulness.

Amelia and Tully’s relationship might not be conventional, but it worked for them.

And, for the first time, I thought it would be nice to have someone …

Veronica, who managed the Victory Tearooms, leaned over to me, thankfully derailing that train of thought. ‘Have you heard we might be getting some new competition? Callie thinks there’s room for another cafe in the village. What do you think?’

Callie and I had discussed the need for another venue in Rowan Vale a few days before.

She’d told me they’d arranged for some food stalls to be on hand during the 1940s weekend, which should help ease the pressure on Mrs Herron’s Teashop, the Victory Tearooms, and The Quicken Tree Inn.

Having observed the high volume of customers at the teashop, though, she agreed there was probably room for another cafe or restaurant in the village, even if it only opened during the main tourist season.

‘The question being, where? And what sort of vibe do we want it to have?’ she’d mused.

‘Should we make it fit into one of our existing featured eras? Or should we simply open a modern eatery, as you’d find in any village or small town?

And if it’s the former, where do we put it?

Actually, either way – where do we put it? ’

‘Maybe it’s something the whole village needs to think about,’ I’d suggested. ‘But probably not until after this forties weekend. We’ve enough to do for now.’

‘Agreed!’ Callie had said with a sigh of relief. ‘I’d better run it past Penny and Veronica, though. Make sure they understand there won’t be any threat to their livelihoods and that they’re okay with the idea in principle.’

I’ll say one thing for Callie: she didn’t hang around.

Once she made up her mind to do something, she got on with it.

Look at this forties weekend! Now it seemed she was determined to push ahead with a new eating place.

Considering she’d only been in charge of the estate for a few months, she was certainly all in.

‘I think it’s a good thing,’ I told Veronica, smiling at Pippa as she joined us at our table and handed me half a pint of fruit cider.

‘There’s more than enough trade to go around.

We’re turning customers away some days, and the last thing we want is for them to jump in their cars and head to another village where they’ll more easily find somewhere to sit and eat in comfort. ’

‘I suppose you’re right,’ Veronica mused.

‘It’s a bit different for me, being at Harling’s Halt.

People tend to pop in as they arrive or leave, but for you, they’re going to be around for a lot longer, and if they can’t get food, it doesn’t reflect well on the village.

I just hope it’s not another vintage teashop.

Between the two of us, we’ve pretty much covered that! ’

I laughed. ‘I’m sure Callie will come up with something different,’ I assured her. ‘Oh, talk of the devil.’ I raised my glass in greeting as Callie and Clara headed over.

‘What are you two doing, fraternising with the enemy?’ Pippa teased them as they squeezed into the small gap between me and Veronica.

‘The quiz hasn’t started yet,’ Callie pointed out with a grin.

‘Even if it had, we’re hardly going to contribute to it,’ Clara said, rolling her eyes. ‘I don’t think I’ve answered more than two questions the entire time I’ve been doing these quizzes, and they were about Peaky Blinders and Taylor Swift.’

‘I think we’re safe, Mum,’ Pippa said, nudging me.

‘You really are,’ Clara said. She yawned and I raised an eyebrow.

‘Are we keeping you up?’

‘Oh, it’s my wretched hormones,’ she moaned. ‘Bloody perimenopause. How long does this go on for?’

‘About five years or so, I think,’ I said. ‘And just think, when that’s over, you’ll be straight into full menopause. What fun!’

‘Bloody hell, who’d be a woman?’ she groaned. ‘Why don’t men suffer with their hormones the way we do? Jack swears he’s going through the so-called male menopause, but all that’s happened is he’s developed a bit of a beer belly and a sudden urge to buy a motorbike. Not fair!’

‘Is he getting a motorbike?’ Callie asked, interested.

‘What do you think? We’ve got better things to spend our money on. Besides, we might be too busy with other stuff.’

‘Ooh, sounds interesting,’ I said. ‘What other stuff?’

‘The model village,’ Clara told us. ‘We’re in discussions with the boss here,’ she jerked her thumb in Callie’s direction, ‘about opening it up to the public.’

‘Really?’ Pippa and I exchanged delighted glances.

We both loved the model village which had been constructed in the 1930s and was a faithful reproduction of the Harling Estate at that time.

It even had little models of all the ghosts who’d been around then, which had come in so useful to those of us who couldn’t see who we shared our village with.

‘We need to work out a way of getting the visitors into the paddock without going through the courtyard at Honeywell House,’ Callie explained.

‘It will mean rejigging the route to ensure privacy for Clara’s family.

If we can’t work it out, we might have to relocate it somewhere else, but either way, Clara and Jack will be in charge of it. ’

‘Jack’s really keen,’ Clara said enthusiastically.

‘To be honest, so am I. It will give me something to do now Freddie’s at school and I’ve got my life back.

I’d love to get a job and overseeing the model village will be perfect.

Jack’s considering giving up the trains to work on it, too.

He’d be in charge of maintenance, and of building new models. ’

‘We’d really like to update it,’ Callie explained. ‘The current model shows the village as it was in the thirties, but we’d like to show it as it is today.’

‘To be fair,’ I said, ‘I shouldn’t think there’d be much to change. Rowan Vale’s barely altered over the last century or so.’

‘It would mainly just be the business names,’ Callie acknowledged. ‘But we’d also like models of the ghosts who weren’t around when the model village was constructed. People like Florrie, and Danny and Brooke, and Harmony Hill – and your Aunt Polly.’

‘I’ll bet she’d love that,’ I said, smiling. ‘Sounds brilliant.’

‘Jack’s more than up for it,’ Clara told me.

‘You know his great-grandfather was one of the original craftsmen who built the model village, and the one who came up with the idea in the first place. He’s keen to carry on the family tradition and he’s always thought it should be open to the public.

As I say, the sticking point is the crowds traipsing through our courtyard to see it, so if Callie can come up with an alternative suggestion, it would be fantastic. ’

‘Brodie’s working on it as we speak,’ Callie assured her. She glanced round to where Brodie was deep in conversation with Jack and shrugged. ‘Well, not as we speak, but he’s dealing with it, I promise.’

‘How are things going with you two?’ I asked. ‘Are you still love’s young dream?’

Callie blushed and tucked a strand of her dark-auburn hair behind her ear, clearly shy about the subject. ‘Good,’ she mumbled. ‘Really good.’

‘Really, really good,’ Clara said, her eyes gleaming with mischief. ‘Despite having a lively eleven-year-old, a ghostly ten-year-old, and a very disapproving Regency lady keeping their beady eyes on them, things have moved on very satisfactorily.’

‘Clara!’ Callie said, now blushing furiously.

Clara laughed. ‘Sorry. I’m only jealous. My libido’s vanished without trace.’