A quiet, slightly old-fashioned sort of novel that I greatly enjoyed. I wouldn't call it a "literary" novel, it doesn't have an unreliable narrator, it doesn't try to link two or three completely unconnected people from different countries and eras, it doesn't feature a central character who is, guess what, a writer who lives in Highgate or Hampstead. And all the better for it.
Instead we have a central group of four middle-aged or elderly women in a small village, one of whom is a widow and two of whom are sisters. The novel begins with the funeral of a third sister, which is also attended accidentally by an unmarried middle-aged man on his day off, who happens to be looking round the churchyard when the cortege arrives, and is too embarrassed to leave so follows them into the church and sits discreetly at the back.
The man lives with his mother, a memorable no-nonsense sort of character, about twenty miles away. After the funeral the women speculate on who the man might be. One observes disapprovingly that he was wearing boots, not shoes. I was reminded of the female community of Mrs Gaskell's "Cranford" as the central characters are carefully drawn and differentiated by Susan Hill, revealing elements of snobbishness, intolerance, fear of illness and dementia, but also kindness and concern.
The man forms a romantic friendship with a woman who is a good friend of the kindest of the circle of four older women, and so comes back into their orbit. From there the story plays out beautifully.
Warmly recommended to readers who like character development rather than plot or action.