‘No point,’ he said briefly. ‘Knowing Solomon and Sheba they’ll have backed up against the big haystack, which will shelter them from the worst. I’m more concerned with getting the car into its shed before—’

He stopped speaking as a hailstone even larger than the rest made a huge dent in the car’s bonnet, and Tess was not surprised when the engine died. Mrs Bell jumped out of her seat, moving more quickly than Tess had ever seen her, and by the time Tess herself and Jonty had emerged from under the hood and got themselves out of the car Mr Bell, head lowered against the onslaught of those unbelievable hailstones, was ushering Mrs Bell towards the kitchen door. Over his shoulder he shouted at his son. ‘Don’t open the tack room door, or the poultry will likely rush out and get themselves killed. There int much we can do about the beasts till the storm’s over, so get you into the kitchen.’

Tess was only too glad to obey, for it was almost impossible to see through the hail, and judging from the noise it was doing more damage than she would have believed possible. She could imagine the terror of animals out in the pastures in such a storm, but realised that there was very little anyone could do to help them. They would have to take their chance, and only when the storm had eased would the Bells be able to assess the damage. Accordingly all four of them bolted for the kitchen, where they found Adam and Uncle Keith staring out through the window, almost unable to believe their eyes as the ground grew white with ice.

‘You’re back, master,’ Adam said, grinning at his employer. ‘I never sin anythin’ like it in all me born days. I doubt there’ll be a beast left livin’ if this hail continue.’

‘Nonsense,’ Mr Bell said bracingly. He had clearly recovered from the blow on the head.

‘I reckon it’s arable farmers what’ll suffer the most. Oh, I don’t deny you’ll mebbe lose one or two of the store cattle, but if the pigs took shelter . . .’ Keith said, but Mrs Bell had other things on her mind.

‘I reckon the car’s had it,’ she announced. ‘One of them big hailstones – only they’s more like bullets – bashed into the bonnet as though it was made of cardboard. And the hood had already gone, torn near in two by the wind. As for the pigs, I doubt the makeshift shelters we knocked up will save them from a battering. Still, we’ll do what we can to put things right, as soon as the storm’s over. Can you stay on, Keith?’

Her brother pulled a face, but nodded. ‘Aye, I’ll do what I can,’ he promised. ‘But while we wait for the weather to ease we might as well have the pie you left for us. Good thing the wind hasn’t affected the Aga; the pie’s warming in the oven, and the spuds must be nicely cooked by now.’ He turned to his nephew. ‘You’re soaked to the skin, bor. Go you up to your room and change into somethin’ dry, and the same goes for the rest of you,’ he added. ‘No point in courtin’ pneumonia.’