‘Who said anything about catching a bus?’ Jonty said as they headed towards the row of parked cars. When he reached the Ford he unlocked the passenger door and swung it open, turning to Tess. ‘Your carriage awaits, madam,’ he said rather grandly, though he spoiled the impression he was trying to make by adding: ‘and take that perishin’ rucksack off and chuck it on the back seat, otherwise you’ll likely go through the windscreen the first time I put the brakes on.’

Tess complied, then slid into the front passenger seat as Jonty walked round the car and unlocked the driver’s door to get behind the wheel. ‘Well? What do you think of the Bells’ new addition? I wanted to call her Priscilla, after the very first cow I milked, but Ma insisted it should be Bluebell because of the colour, so we don’t bother much with names: it’s either the Morris or the Ford.’

‘Oh, you’ve still got the Morris then?’ Tess remarked as they emerged on to the main road and Jonty turned the car’s nose in the direction of home. ‘I half expected Mr Bell to pop out and get into the driving seat when you opened the door. I know he used to get very ratty with you when you drove the old bull-nose up to the harvest field, with the harvest tea in your mam’s big basket.’

‘Oh, that’s all a thing of the past,’ Jonty said airily, although Tess was amused to see that he crossed his fingers as he spoke. ‘Dad’s on the verge of agreeing that if I take on the repayments for the Ford, I can consider it more or less mine. The truth is, Tess, that fond though I am of my old man I have to admit – just between ourselves, mind – that he’s a lousy driver. In fact, I believe he’s a good deal happier driving the Morris than he is behind the wheel of the Ford. And since he seldom gets out of second gear, hardly ever depresses the clutch and considers the windscreen wipers an invention of the devil, put on the windscreen merely to confuse him when he indicates right or left, I feel he’s better sticking to the old car which is much less complex.’ As he spoke they reached the derestriction sign and Jonty began to increase his speed, until they were spinning along the turnpike at fifty miles an hour.

Tess took the opportunity, because he was concentrating on his driving, to steal a look at his profile. He was not handsome, she decided regretfully, but he had a very nice sort of face, and now that his hair had begun to dry it was springing back into its usual clumpy, sandy locks. Taking stock, she noted the freckles, which ran in a band across his nose and cheeks, his determined cleft chin and the greenish-hazel eyes now fixed steadily on the road ahead. She let her glance slip to the strong column of his neck, tanned by the summer sun, and his broad shoulders and chest, which tapered to a narrow waist and long legs. She was just thinking that he had not only grown a lot but had greatly improved when he shot her an amused sideways glance.