The residents voted for a new committee that same night.

I didn't stand. I didn't think it would be right. I owned the place now. The committee was supposed to speak to me, not be run by me.

Doris Wright stood. Eighty-two years old, twenty years at Kingsmere, and she'd never once been allowed on the committee.

She won by a landslide.

Liam Carter became vice-chair. A young couple who owned their house became secretary and treasurer. There were four owners and three renters on the new committee. Nobody counted. That was the point.

Doris's first act as chair was to bang Nigel's little gavel very firmly.

“Right,” she said. “The summer fun day is back. The cake competition is open to everybody. And Nigel, dear, you can run the dog show. You've always had very strong opinions.”

Even Nigel laughed at that. A small, embarrassed laugh. But a real one.

At the end of the night, Penny Lockwood came up to me as I was stacking chairs.

“I'm sorry, Kate,” she said quietly. “About the red pen. And telling you to stand at the back.” “It's all right, Penny.”

“My daughter rents,” she said suddenly. “In London. Her landlord's dreadful. I'd hate it if somebody treated her the way I treated you.”