‘Oh, Dad, hadn’t I better do it? I’ve driven a tractor—’ Jonty began, only to be firmly overruled by his mother.

‘Nonsense!’ she said briskly. ‘When we was first wed I took the wheel from time to time; reckon I can still remember how. Now get you out of that seat, bor! Jonty and Tess will give you a hand round t’other side. But let’s have a look at your head first. Then I’ll know whether to make for the farm or the hospital.’

As she spoke she leaned over and took her husband’s hand away from his forehead, revealing a lump the size of a hen’s egg with a deepish cut running across it.

Tess gasped, but Jonty shook a reproving head at her. ‘Dad’s pretty tough; I don’t reckon he’ll need the hospital. If Ma washes the blood off and puts some iodine on it he’ll be fine,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Come on, Tess, let’s get Dad into the passenger seat and see how Ma manages.’

Tess was doubtful, for in all the time she had known the family Mrs Bell had seldom, if ever, taken the lead in any project. She was sure that her hostess had no idea how to work the gears, for instance, but in the event she was proved wrong. To be sure, for the first half-mile or so the Morris hopped along more like a kangaroo than a car, with its engine roaring one minute and faltering the next, but presently Mrs Bell managed to get into second and then third gear, and despite the gale they reached the lane which led to Bell Farm just as hail began to fall so fiercely that Mr Bell told his wife to stop the car. ‘You can’t drive in this,’ he told her as huge pieces of ice the size of tennis balls continued to rain down on them. ‘You’ve done well, my woman, but ’tis time I took over.’

Tess expected Mrs Bell to object, to point out that since she had got so far she might as well carry on, but as more and more of the huge lumps of ice descended from the ominous black clouds it became clear that the farmer’s wife was no keener to continue to drive than her husband was to let her. Instead she left the driving seat just as her husband reached the door, and the two changed places. The engine was still running, so Mr Bell only had to wait until his wife had slammed the passenger door before he put the car in gear and it moved gingerly forward. Tess and Jonty had reacted to the hail in the only sensible way they could: they had dived under the heavy canvas hood, raising it so that they could see ahead of them without leaving its shelter. ‘Well, folks say it’s been a queer old summer, but I’ve never seen hailstones this size before,’ Jonty murmured as one bounced on his head. ‘Any crop left standing will be flattened by this little lot.’ He jerked upright suddenly, and Tess saw his eyes widen with dismay. ‘The horses! They’ll be half mad with terror!’ He leaned forward and addressed his father. ‘Dad, the horses! It ain’t only Rufus and Biddy – the carthorses is out as well. Can you drive straight to the five acre so’s we can make sure they’re all right?’ By now, however, Mr Bell was swinging the car off the lane and into the farmyard, and he shook his head decisively.