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“Gran used to sew the costumes in here,” Lucie said, crossing to the door that led out to what had long ago been a playground. She peered through the glass at the space, which was now part of the village car park.

Frances joined her, slipping an arm around her shoulder. “There aren’t too many memories here?”

“No, and they’re good memories, mostly. And you can see how good the space is. The three classrooms with direct access outside means we can run separate workshops while the hall is in use.”

“It’s going to need a lot of work,” Frances said gently.

“I know.” Lucie glanced around. “But the bare bones are good.”

They moved back into the corridor, and Lucie paused at the door of a smaller room opposite.

“I think this used to be the headmaster’s office when it was a school. I only remember it as our director, Angela’s, office. It’s the perfect size for me.”

“It’s got good light,” Frances said, stepping inside and looking around.

Lucie’s gaze drifted back down the corridor towards the hall. “It feels right, though, doesn’t it? Bringing it back to life. Giving it a new purpose.”

“Restoring a building to its original state is always right. I’m glad we have the means to help this one.”

Lucie nodded. “Me too. Now — pub? I’m starving.”

“Yes. I’m keen to try the food.”

“I forgot you haven’t yet,” Lucie said.

The few weekends she’d managed to get back to the village over the last two years, Frances had always stayed back to look after her mum. They had decided it would be best to avoid Rose returning to Winterbourne. With her ever-decreasing state of mind, they worried it would only distress her more. Her world had gradually shrunk into the house and the gardens. Anything beyond that was too much.

They locked up the building and headed along the road to the pub, where Mandy greeted them with menus and sat them at a table overlooking the village green.

“Will you and Dad join us for lunch, Mands?” Lucie asked, slipping her coat around her chair.

“Yes. It would be lovely to catch up. Shall I bring a bottle of wine over?”

“Please,” Frances said as she took a menu from Mandy. “How’s the food side going?”

“Really well. We’ve hired a chef. She’s become very popular amongst the locals. Your dad is a particular fan of her scampi and chips. No doubt he’ll have that for lunch.”

“I will,” he said, appearing behind Mandy and slipping an arm around her waist.

“I’ll have that, too,” Lucie said, barely glancing at the menu.

“Same,” Frances added, handing hers back.

Her dad took a seat as Mandy trundled off.

“It’s good to see you both,” he said. “I just wish it were under better circumstances.”

He looked at Frances, and she flashed him a straight smile.

“It’s good to see you too, Dad,” Lucie said.

Mandy reappeared with a wine bottle and four glasses, which she proceeded to fill. “Did you hear the village hall has been sold? Someone said it might become a restaurant.”

“It’s just typical now we serve food,” her dad grumbled.

Lucie bit back a laugh and reached into her pocket, holding out the keys. “We bought it.”

Her dad and Mandy looked at each other, then at her.