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Why did she do it, I wondered as I turned and followed her across the stream, Anna behind us. Why did they do it? For the money, of course, but – was it worth it? We set off back up the grassy slope of the garden at a brisk pace.

‘And now Marcia Wentworth-White at Harrington Hall has decided she's doing weddings too so no doubt all my lovely Asians will flock up there and no one will come here except the fucking gentiles!’ she hissed.

Ah. So that was it. Might explain her bad temper on the phone.

‘But surely Marcia will charge more?’ Anna and I jogged up the hill after her. ‘I mean, Harrington Hall and all that – you'd be much better value for money.’

‘That's what I'm hanging on to,’ she said grimly as we kept pace. ‘That's what's keeping me sane. That they'll price themselves out of the market. We'll see. Pigs.’ She stopped in her tracks

‘The Wentworth-Whites?’

‘No, I've got to feed them, but yes, the Wentworth-Whites are actually, especially him, no manners at all. Frightfully nouveau.’ She turned and headed off in the other direction, down towards the sties.

‘Anyway, I'm going for the gay market.’ She jutted her chin out determinedly as she hurried on. ‘Tim's a bit nervous, but I'm convinced it's the way forward. I had a lovely couple come to look the other day, Jason and Edward. They wanted to know if Edward could get married in a dress. I said he could get married in mine as long as they didn't puke and leave condoms everywhere. Here, Dolores! Here, Crackling!’ She rattled her bucket at the pig pen as we approached. ‘Oh, and naturists too. I found a couple on the Internet who were looking for a venue but wanted to be stark naked, and all the congregation as well. Kosher! Kosher – HERE! I said fine, as long as no one got excited during the ceremony. Imagine – with this ring, I thee – ooh, now where shall I put it?’ She cracked a rare smile. ‘DOLORES! COME! BOADICEA – HERE!’ she bellowed.

Five enormous ginger sows suddenly appeared from nowhere and charged at us, throwing themselves against the netting. Anna and I backed away nervously.

‘Actually, you can help,’ said Caro.

Help? In what way? Nothing practical, I hoped.

‘If you distract them,’ she went on, ‘I can get to their trough at the other end.’

Distract them? What – with a few songs? A dance?

She handed me the sick bucket. ‘Here jiggle this.’ I recoiled in disgust. ‘Oh, please.’

‘Don't be silly, they'll eat anything.’ She threw a handful of pig meal on top. ‘Just shake it, they're pretty desperate, they'll smell it.’

They surely could. The pigs were huge and threw themselves convulsively against the netting as I jiggled nervously, and as Caro ran away.

‘Where are you going?’ I bleated.

‘To pour feed into their trough down the other end,’ she shouted. ‘But they tip it over so I've got to right it first. Now jiggle the bucket – that's it!’

I jiggled furiously, nose wrinkled and averted, as down the other end of the pen, Caro, a sack of meal over her shoulder, stole over the fence like a burglar and quickly righted the trough, poured in the rations, just as the pigs, realizing they'd been had, turned and charged. Caro nipped back over the fence just in time.

‘What would they do if they caught you?’ asked Anna, watching, awestruck. The sows were demolishing their food with what can only be described as sensational dispatch.

‘Eat me, probably,’ panted Caro, brushing herself down.

‘No!’

‘Yes, quite possibly,’ replied her aunt calmly. ‘Hungarian peasants have been known to fall asleep in their pig fields, and all that's found in the morning is a pile of bones.’

Anna's round eyes went back to the grunting, ravenous beasts. ‘So… why d'you like them?’ she whispered.

‘Oh, it's all part of country life, isn't it?’ Caro beamed. ‘And anyway, they've always been here. Granny used to have them, you know. Your mum probably used to feed them!’

I think we all knew this wasn't true. Mum had kept pigs, but Maroulla and Mario, our farm workers, had pretty much looked after them,