‘Hmm, then I quite see you have a problem,’ Jonty said, having given the subject some thought. ‘No chance of your gran getting a job well away from the city, something not connected with the bakery, I mean? After all, there are other jobs. Which reminds me, since you say you must go home after a mere two weeks in Norfolk, I take it you’ve a job lined up?’ As he spoke he was turning off the tarmac road and entering the rough little lane which led up to the farm, and he had to slow his speed considerably, for the hot summer had left the lane with huge iron-hard ruts and ridges which the morning’s rain had turned into a skating rink.

‘Well, not exactly, but I’m being considered for holiday relief in a factory nursery, so I need to get back for the interview,’ Tess explained. ‘Don’t think I wouldn’t rather stay on at Bell Farm, but the truth is I can’t do it. Also, someone has to search for accommodation. Gran does her best when she isn’t actually working and Albert – Mr Payne, the tobacconist – is a tower of strength, but so far neither of them have turned up what we need.’

Jonty nodded thoughtfully as he swung into the farmyard, coming neatly to a halt right outside the back door. ‘I see. I take it you’ve given up all thoughts of this ice cream parlour? If not, couldn’t you sell ices from the hat shop and keep the flat?’

Tess shook her head sadly. ‘No can do; if we took on the hat shop we’d have to go for Change of Use, and anyway it isn’t really big enough. Uncle Albert’s daughter Janine runs a soda fountain in the United States and told her dad ages ago just what he’d need. The floor space would have to be twice the size of the hat shop and the equipment . . . well, it’s out of the question at present. Just a dream, in fact.’

Jonty cut the engine and came round to open Tess’s door and help her out on to the cobbles. ‘Right, I see your problem. In you go!’ he said cheerfully. ‘Ma and Pa will both be in the kitchen, waiting to welcome you. I’ll bring your rucksack.’

Jonty had been astonished when he had seen an elegant young lady accompanied by a member of the Royal Air Force descending from the train. In the sensible part of his mind he knew that this elegant young woman with the short cap of golden-brown hair must be his Tess – he still thought of her as his Tess – but if she thought that he had changed, he told himself as he drew the car to a halt outside the back door, then she had changed every bit as much. Until she had opened her mouth and commented so rudely upon his hairstyle, he had felt quite frightened of her, so different, so sophisticated, had she seemed. But then he had realised that his old pal hadn’t changed at all, merely shrugged grown-upness over the funny little Tess he knew, so all he had to do was grow accustomed to the new look. Even thinking the words new look made him glance at Tess’s clothing as he followed her into the farmhouse. She wore a neat little navy straw hat – the one he had knocked askew when greeting her – and a blue cotton dress with a long full skirt, cinched at her narrow waist with a navy blue elasticated belt, and on her feet she wore high-heeled white sandals.