Tommy's disgrace was essentially my gain, as it turned out. Roger was horrified when he heard, and insisted Tommy apologize properly to Shona, in person, the following day. Mum later heard from the Bellingdons’ daily that Tommy already had his coat on and was sitting hunched on the front steps waiting for Hugo to drive him across when Roger found him, but I can't see it myself. Irrespective of how it happened, however, on Sunday morning, there they were: Tommy and Hugo, at the front door of our cottage where Shona was staying the night, Truro not being hugely convenient for hunting.

It was still relatively early for two teenage girls — ten-ish — and Mum had to come up and wake us.

I sat bolt upright in bed. "What? They're here?"

"In the kitchen. I'll go down and make them some tea."

“Did you have to let them in?" muttered Shona, from under the duvet.

"Certainly I did. He looks wretched, actually. Now get dressed and go down."

"I just want the whole thing to go away; this is beyond embarrassing. Such a stupid misunderstanding," Shona said faintly.

Down we went, though, dressing quickly and brushing our hair and definitely our teeth, but no time for make-up. And there the two of them were, looking sheepish and drinking tea at our little kitchen table, Mum, diplomatically, having made herself scarce.

They both rose from the table when they saw us. Tommy went very red and came forward.

“Shona, I'm so sorry. I know what it sounded like, but I swear I didn't mean that. I just meant get lost, small-town girl, which shows what an ignorant, preppy jerk I am. I'm sorry for how it sounded, though. Like, the worst thing ever."

“Don't be silly, I got that as soon as I saw your face. And I'm gutted you were sent home."