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‘His life’s one big holiday,’ Glynnis muttered. ‘Always off somewhere foreign. I don’t know how he doesn’t get bored. Nothing like home, is there?’

‘Nothing like it,’ Kelly agreed.

‘So,’ Glynnis said, ‘you’re from Brentwell. Born and bred?’

Kelly nodded. ‘Born and bred.’

‘And your parents?’

‘They’re both alive and well,’ Kelly said. ‘Still living in Brentwell.’

‘Only child?’

‘I’m afraid so.’

Glynnis snorted. ‘My brother and I fought like banshees. At least until we were old enough to know better.’

‘Oh dear,’ Kelly said.

‘We get on fine now,’ Glynnis replied. ‘I visit his grave once a week.’

At Kelly’s startled expression, Glynnis laughed again, leaving her unsure whether it was a joke or merely Glynnis’s unique way of viewing the world.

‘That’s … kind of you,’ Kelly said carefully.

‘Someone has to clear the slugs away,’ Glynnis replied matter-of-factly.

She sighed. ‘Brian’s a love. Regina does her best, bless her. She won’t rest until she’s found somewhere to build that water treatment plant, though. Keep an eye out for her wandering around with a clipboard. Nowhere’s safe from my niece and her public works plans.’

Dinner, it seemed, was nearly ready.

Much to Kelly’s delight, Glynnis had prepared several other dishes alongside the stew. There were crispy roast potatoes, a pumpkin pie, and, sitting in the refrigerator, the largest pile of profiteroles drenched in cream and caramel sauce that Kelly had ever seen.

She began to suspect Glynnis viewed hospitality as a competitive sport.

Unsure how she would survive the evening and still remain light enough on her feet to walk home afterwards, Kelly helped herself to another gin and tonic while topping up Glynnis’s drink for what had to be the fourth or fifth time.

Rather than heading for the dining room table as Kelly had expected, Glynnis led her out through the back door and down a covered stone pathway towards a small building standing by itself at the bottom of the garden.

From the path, it resembled an ordinary garden shed.

However, when Glynnis slid open the door, Kelly realised it was actually a summer house, the entire far wall consisting of glass doors overlooking the rolling hills beyond the village.

‘Wow,’ Kelly said. ‘This is lovely.’

‘I’m glad you like it, dear,’ Glynnis replied. ‘This is my séance room.’

‘Your … what?’

‘This is where the spirits like to communicate.’

Kelly wasn’t entirely sure how to respond. Looking around, she noticed the walls were decorated with strange symbols woven from thick lengths of twine.

‘A … séance room?’ she asked.

‘This shed is built directly upon an old pagan spirit line,’ Glynnis explained. ‘Very similar to a ley line. Ley lines are more about energy. Spirit lines are pathways along which spirits travel. Rather like motorways, really. They help them get from A to B without having to take the scenic route.’

She smiled. ‘Kind of the like the A30. However, they occasionally stop by for a chat.’