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Farmhouse Cheddar ... and –’
    â€˜Like every large rodent,’ I told Donna, ‘your father could exist indefinitely on cheese alone. Arnold –’ I gave him a sharp poke in the ribs – ‘that’s enough!’
    â€˜And Curd!’ Arnold finished triumphantly. ‘“Little Miss Muffet sat on a tuffet, eating her curds and whey.” I’ve always wondered what that was. We’ll have some tonight.’
    The stall-holder was whacking off hunks of cheese with alarming rapidity, as though he wished to serve this maniac and get his money before the men in white coats arrived and dropped the butterfly net over him.
    â€˜Oh, uhh –’ Arnold came out of his happy trance as the pile of wrapped wedges mounted on the counter before him. He glanced at me guiltily. ‘Er, did you want some bacon, honey?’
    â€˜Not right now,’ I said sweetly. ‘I think we’ll live on cheese soufflés for the next few weeks.’
    â€˜We can use it all,’ Arnold argued unconvincingly. ‘Maybe we can give a party.’
    â€˜We don’t know anyone here to invite to a party,’ I reminded him. ‘Although I do agree that five pounds of cheese would be plenty for a party – if we were giving one.’
    â€˜Is it really –’ Arnold winced – ‘five pounds?’
    Three pounds, seventy, actually, Guv,’ the stallholder said briskly. ‘If that’ll be all, that is.’
    â€˜That’s all.’ Arnold passed over a ten-pound note and waited for change, avoiding my eyes.
    â€˜Maybe Esmond likes cheese, too.’ Donna tried to cheer me.
    â€˜Lovely lot of English cheeses you’ve got there.’ The stall-holder handed over Arnold’s change. ‘You won’t regret it. But –’ he tempted slyly – ‘how about some of these French cheeses? This Brie, now, ripe and ready for eating. So’s the Camembert, and the Roule, and –’
    â€˜No more today, thank you!’ I cut him off and grabbed Arnold’s arm as he opened his mouth to buy out the rest of the stall. ‘Before we do any more bulk buying, we’re going to hire a car.’
    We found the Rent-Your-Wheels office without any problems, since it was just off the High Street with a big sign over it. The trouble began when we looked at the cars on offer.
    â€˜Gee, honey,’ Arnold said, ‘I’m not sure we can handle any of these. They all have manual shifts – and five shifts, at that.’
    â€˜All we’ve got, squire,’ the salesman said. ‘You won’t find many automatic transmissions around these parts. Everyone reckons they’re too dodgy. You’ll cotton on to it fast enough. Look, why don’t you slip behind the wheel and take it out for a little spin? You can leave your shopping here.’
    â€˜I don’t know. We don’t have much time to fool around –’ Arnold checked his watch and I knew just what he was thinking. ‘Maybe we ought to come back another day.’
    â€˜You can forget that, Arnold Harper! You’re not going up to London this afternoon and leaving me stranded with the kids in a strange town.’ He wasn’t going up to London tomorrow, either, but I’d let him find that out later.
    â€˜Oh, but honey –’
    â€˜Furthermore –’ I rammed home the advantage – ‘you know perfectly well we’re going to dinner at the Sandgates’ tonight. No way could you make it to London, get anything done, and get home again in time for that.’
    â€˜Okay, okay! We’ll take the frigging car!’ he snarled, turning on the salesman so violently the poor man cringed. ‘What do I have to sign?’
    We drove home with the twins joining me in a chorus of: ‘Left! Keep left! They drive on the left over here.’
    By the time we pulled up in front of the house, we were all frazzled and