Once the judging was over, the children split up to attend to their volunteer duties. Millie was rostered on to help serve morning tea in the marquee near the stables while Alice-Miranda and Jacinta were to report to Mrs Mereweather at the information booth. Sloane and the boys were on cleaning duty with Mr Munz.

‘Good morning, Mrs Mereweather,’ Alice-Miranda greeted the woman, who chortled in reply.

‘I hope you’ve brought your skates with you, girls,’ Nancy said brightly, ‘because we have been very busy directing all of these lovely patrons and their magnificent beasts to wherever they need to be.’ She tittered as she located the girls’ name tags.

Soon enough, a woman with a large chocolate-coloured neapolitan mastiff walked up to the booth.

‘Hello there,’ Mrs Mereweather giggled.

The woman looked at her and frowned. ‘What are you laughing at?’ she barked.

‘Oh, nothing at all. I’m just thrilled to be here,’ Mrs Mereweather replied.

‘Are you laughing at my Stephanie?’ the woman said, gesturing to her dog, who had more wrinkles than all the unironed shirts at Fayle put together.

Nancy could barely contain herself. ‘No, of course not,’ she said from behind her hand.

Alice-Miranda quickly stepped in to smooth things over. ‘May we help you?’ she asked.

The woman eyed her warily as Mrs Mereweather wiped the tears from her eyes. ‘I’d like to locate the photographers, please,’ she snipped.

‘I can take you,’ Jacinta volunteered.

Alice-Miranda watched the trio walk off and spotted Major Foxley standing to the left of the booth. He was dressed immaculately from the top of his coiffed silver hair to the tips of his shiny black brogues. The man turned her way and she gave him a wave. ‘Hello Major Foxley!’ she called.

‘Oh, hello there, young lady. How are you enjoying the show so far?’ he asked as he limped towards her.

‘It’s amazing. The dogs are so lovely,’ Alice-Miranda replied.

‘Yes, they certainly are,’ the man said. ‘I see Mrs Dankworth took out the Hound division this morning.’

The child nodded and smiled. ‘She was magnificent, and so was Citrine.’

‘It will be interesting to see who takes out Best in Show tomorrow. I think she’s up against some stiff competition this year,’ Major Foxley replied.

‘Yes, it’s wonderful Mrs Finchley is here,’ Alice-Miranda said. ‘Did you end up seeing her last weekend?’

Major Foxley shook his head. ‘No, we spoke on the telephone.’

‘Oh, that’s funny,’ Alice-Miranda said, frowning. ‘I could have sworn I saw your car on the road when Millie and I were heading into the driveway at Chesterfield Downs.’

‘Well, I can assure you it wasn’t me,’ the man snapped.

Alice-Miranda wondered what she’d said to turn Major Foxley’s mood.

‘Did you find the owner of your puppy?’ he said quickly.

Alice-Miranda shook her head. ‘No, but the good news is that we’re keeping him. His name’s Fudge and he’s completely adorable even though his favourite pastime is to chew everyone’s shoes.’

‘What a sweet name,’ the man said, smiling at his own joke.

A short queue was beginning to form and Alice-Miranda excused herself to deal with the next person in line. ‘Hello, can I help you?’ she asked a little girl who couldn’t have been more than five years old.

‘Can you tell me where the puppy farm is?’ the girl asked.

Alice-Miranda frowned. ‘What do you mean?’

Major Foxley, who was still standing close by, interjected. ‘I’m afraid, young lady, that we have nothing of that sort here. Puppy farms are outlawed – they’re dire things.’

The child’s face began to crumple. ‘Mummy said there’d be puppies I can play with, like when you have a baby animal farm at the show,’ she explained in a wobbly voice.

‘Of course,’ Alice-Miranda said gently. ‘There’s a puppy petting station near the stables. Would you like me to take you?’

‘Mummy’s over there,’ the child said, pointing to a woman wearing a red hat. She was eager to get away from the grumpy old man.

Alice-Miranda held the girl’s hand and walked her to her mother, then directed the pair of them to the stables, where the most beautiful litter of golden retriever puppies was romping about. As she walked back across the showground, Alice-Miranda spotted Mayor Wiley. He was dressed in his complete council regalia, with the mayoral chain clanking around his neck, and looked to be shaking hands with anyone who came within shouting distance.

‘Hello Mayor Wiley.’ Alice-Miranda smiled at the man, who raised his sunglasses to see who was calling his name.

‘Good morning, Alice-Miranda,’ he said. ‘Isn’t this magnificent?’

The child nodded. ‘Mrs Parker has done an amazing job.’

Silas Wiley’s lip curled involuntarily as it always seemed to do at the mention of that woman’s name. ‘Yes, I suppose she has. Have you seen any dogs you like?’

‘So many. There was the cutest cocker spaniel over there,’ Alice-Miranda replied, pointing towards one of the pavilions. ‘He was wearing slippers.’

‘I’ve decided to get a dog myself,’ the man said. ‘But not one of these purebreds. They have far too many health problems apparently.’

‘Ooh, what kind?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

‘Well, as it turns out, Major Foxley is getting me a cavoodle. That’s a cross between a …’ The man’s brows furrowed as he tried to recall the names. ‘Hmm, what was it now?’

‘A cavalier King Charlies spaniel and a miniature poodle,’ Alice-Miranda said.

‘Yes, that’s right. Cute as a button.’ The man pulled a piece of paper from his pocket and unfolded it. ‘Major Foxley showed me this just now.’

Alice-Miranda looked at the picture and gasped.

‘I can’t wait to get the little blighter. Life can get a bit lonely at times, you see.’ Mayor Wiley noticed the girl had gone white as a sheet, and stopped. ‘Is something the matter, Alice-Miranda?’ he asked.

‘No, of course not,’ the child said, recovering quickly. ‘Have a good day, Mayor Wiley. I have to run.’

She charged back towards the information booth, scouring the lawns for Major Foxley. She needed to talk to the man right away, but he was nowhere to be seen. She was so deep in thought that she’d walked straight past her booth. She turned around and almost fell into Becca Finchley’s lap.

‘Oh, Mrs Finchley! I’m so sorry – I didn’t see you there,’ the child apologised.

‘Are you looking for someone?’ Becca asked.

‘Major Foxley,’ the girl replied. She saw that Daniel was pushing his mother, and an older lady Alice-Miranda hadn’t met before was leading Siggy and clutching a giant silver cup.

‘Siggy won,’ Daniel said, grinning from ear to ear.

Alice-Miranda clapped her hands together. ‘Congratulations! That’s wonderful news.’

‘Thanks to Mrs Bird,’ Becca said, smiling at the older woman.

‘Hello Mrs Bird, I’m Alice-Miranda Highton-Smith-Kennington-Jones and I’m very pleased to meet you.’

The woman smiled. ‘Lovely to meet you too, dear.’

‘Mrs Finchley, do you know what sort of dogs Major Foxley breeds?’ Alice-Miranda asked.

The woman frowned. ‘I think he might have had poodles years ago.’

‘It wasn’t poodles,’ Vera Bird said, shaking her head. ‘I know that for sure.’

Becca looked at the woman, wondering how she could be so certain. ‘Why do you ask?’ she said to Alice-Miranda.

‘Well, it’s just that …’ Alice-Miranda hesitated, not knowing exactly what to say.

‘Becca, can we have a chat on camera?’ Darius Loveday called, heading towards them. ‘We’ve got everything set up now.’

Becca bit her lip. ‘Sorry, Alice-Miranda. Can we talk later?’

The child nodded. ‘Of course.’

Meanwhile, out the back of the Haute Hound stand, Barry Dankworth was trying to console his wife.

‘Roberta, you know that Citrine is good enough to take out Best in Show,’ he said, touching her gently on the arm.

‘Don’t do that, Barry,’ the woman squawked. ‘I can’t believe she won. And who’s that old bag showing Siggy? Where did she spring from with her pointy toes, prancing like a gazelle.’

Barry shook his head. ‘Don’t worry about Becca. You just have to do your best, darling. That’s all anyone can ask.’

‘My best!’ Roberta screamed. ‘I always do my best!’

‘Why don’t I take you and Citrine home and perhaps you can come back later and bring Farrah for a walk?’ Barry suggested, trying his best to placate her.

‘You left her at home. I told you to bring her but, oh no, you said there was too much going on. Now Farrah’s going to be upset too.’ Roberta’s face scrunched and huge tears wobbled in the bottoms of her eyes. ‘And where’s Darius? He’s hardly filmed me at all the past couple of days.’ Roberta sniffed.

Barry put his arm around the woman and she sobbed loudly.

‘Hello there,’ a familiar voice said to someone on the other side of the stand. ‘Do you know where Roberta Dankworth is?’

‘Um, she’s out the back with Barry,’ the young girl manning the stand replied.

A look of terror flashed across Roberta’s face as mascara lines dribbled down her cheeks. ‘I don’t want to see him now!’ she hissed to her husband. ‘Get rid of him.’

Barry Dankworth nodded and slipped through the slit in the canvas. ‘Hello Darius,’ he said. ‘How can I help you?’

‘I just wanted to get a response from Roberta about Becca’s triumphant comeback,’ the presenter replied.

‘Triumphant comeback, my eye,’ Roberta muttered. ‘I’ll show him who’s Best in Show!’