“One more, then,” he said. “What about Gavin Adstone?”

“The lone parishioner attending our meeting, and unsquashable? Are you serious?” John said. Gavin Adstone was one of the bright young incomers, disliked by most people for his instantly given opinions on every subject raised, and obvious contempt for the old tried and tested village ways. But Derek thought he could see good in the man. All that brash exterior covered a willing spirit, and he could see that they would sorely need such a one on the village hall project.

“Better to have him working with us than against us,” was all he said, and John reluctantly agreed. “You ask him then,” he said. “And on your own head be it.”

WHEN A SUITABLY MELLOW DEREK ARRIVED HOME, LOIS WAS waiting for him in the warm kitchen. Gran, Lois’s mother, had gone to bed with a book, and the kitchen was quiet and peaceful.

“Good meeting?” Lois said.

“Not bad,” Derek said, wondering how to break the news to her that he was now chairing the village hall project subcommittee. He need not have worried.

“So did you get the job?” she asked. When he did not answer straightaway, she added that the parish council meeting agenda was fixed to the notice board, so she knew about the project and had guessed the rest. “I thought it would be dumped in your lap,” she said. “Can’t say no, that’s your trouble.”

Derek put his arms around her shoulders and kissed the back of her neck. “Luckily for you,” he muttered into her silky hair. “When you proposed to me, I mean,” he added, and retreated quickly as she rounded on him, as expected.

TWO

GAVIN ADSTONE HAD ARRIVED IN THE VILLAGE WITH HIS wife and toddler daughter a year and a half ago, and had immediately thrown himself into village activities without realising that a more considered approach would have made him more acceptable to the small community.