On Monday morning Gran was up betimes and so was Tess, for excitement would not let her remain in bed on such a day. She had packed her case days earlier and repacked it practically every morning since. Gran had made her a delicious carryout the night before, but the sandwiches would be made at the last minute, since there was nothing worse than opening a packet of sandwiches only to find the bread curling up and going dry. Accordingly, despite knowing that the train she was to catch did not leave Lime Street until eight forty-five, Tess was in the kitchen fully dressed by seven o’clock and informing Gran that she was too excited to eat.

Gran, placidly cutting bread and sandwiching Spam in some and tomatoes in others, looked disapprovingly at Tess over the top of her spectacles. ‘You’ve been like a fly in a tar box for the best part of a week, thinking that something would come up to prevent your going,’ she said severely. ‘In fact I’ve taken offence. Anyone would think I was an evil prison warder, intent upon keeping you in Heyworth Street when your whole heart and mind was set on escaping back to Bell Farm. How you’ll tear yourself away when your holiday’s over, I can’t imagine. Perhaps you’ll decide to stay, so if that’s in your mind . . .’

Giggling, Tess bounced across the kitchen and flung both arms round Gran, squeezing her tightly and plonking a kiss upon the older woman’s smooth pink cheek. ‘Oh, Gran, you are daft,’ she said affectionately. ‘When I first came back to Liverpool I admit I was pretty unhappy. It was mostly because the other girls at school hated me. But now I wouldn’t go back to the farm full time even if they paid me. I’ve several friends in my class now, and ever since Snowy White took me up, so to speak, no one’s tried to bully me. But best of all is you and me. We’re a little family and we look out for each other. I just wish you could come to the farm as well, but I know it’s not on, not this year at any rate. The Bells are nice, but if I’m honest I know they’ve only invited me to keep Jonty quiet and because I can be useful. It’s not that they’re hard, exactly . . . well, I suppose it is really. Farming isn’t a nine-to-five job, Mrs Bell used to say, it’s twenty-four hours, and it makes farmers despise anyone not working all out.’

Gran returned the hug and, in her turn, kissed Tess’s cheek. ‘I was only teasing, queen,’ she said remorsefully. ‘I know you wouldn’t desert me, although one of these days, when you’re older, you’ll want a place of your own and a husband too. And now sit down and eat your porridge. I shall come to the station with you, because it’s always nice to be waved off, and I shall expect a nice newsy letter telling me all about the farm as soon as you’ve time to pen one.’