Albert had laughed. ‘I’ll think about it,’ he had promised, and now, as sleep claimed him, he saw himself dressed in Tyrolean shorts and a perky hat with a feather, dancing up Heyworth Street, singing and playing a musical instrument. Even in his dream he laughed at the absurdity of it, but then he was on Rhyl beach once more, paddling at the water’s edge and shouting out to Mrs Edie Williams that she was the prettiest woman on the coach and he was a lucky fellow to have her company.

Chapter Four

BY THE TIME Tess had been at the farm for ten days she had slipped thoroughly into the way of things. Because the only other worker was an old man of seventy-five, who prefaced most of his remarks with a grumble about the lack of proper assistance, Jonty and Tess found they were supposed to be in several places at once, and had almost no time to themselves. Tess was thankful that the majority of the fruit in the orchard close to the house would not be ripe until after she had left, but even so there was a deal of work to be done. The field known as the hazel pasture, because it was hedged on one side with well-grown hazels, now contained a number of pigs and small shelters into which the sows could just about cram themselves along with their squealing, fighting progeny. The only boar, Crippen, was now the sole occupant of the big brick-built pigsty up against the house, and since he had an uncertain temper Jonty and Tess steered well clear of the enormous creature, leaving Mr and Mrs Bell and old Adam to deal with him. The original plan had been to take Crippen to the sows when they were ready for mating, but because of his evil temper they now took the sows to Crippen, and though an unpopular beast he fathered huge litters of piglets and so was unlikely to be sold on, though Jonty frequently suggested it.

Despite the fact that it was August, the weather was uncertain. The days were hot and sunny but at night as one slept – or tried to sleep – upstairs the heat was unbearable, and when on one particular night Tess heard the thunder rumbling ever nearer she was conscious of a strong desire that the storm would break, preferably overhead, so that cooling rain might fall.

Lying there in the dark, her nightie long since cast off, she heard Jonty getting up and padding across to his window in the room next door. Hastily she pulled on her skimpy nightgown and went to her own window, for by leaning out of the casements they could converse comfortably, which, when it was too hot to sleep, they frequently did. Now, as she poked head and shoulders out into the night, she saw Jonty doing the same and drew his attention with a little whistle. He turned to face her and grinned, his face shiny with sweat, his hair dark with it. ‘Hiya, Tess,’ he whispered. ‘Bloody hot, isn’t it?’ His mother disapproved of night-time conversations, seeming to think that because both parties were in their nightclothes it might be considered improper. She had tried to forbid what she clearly considered to be an indelicate practice, so now Jonty and Tess kept their voices down while they enjoyed their midnight chats.