He was right, for as soon as they entered the room with its low sink and earth floor Glenys saw that this had indeed been the cottage kitchen, and by the look of things was now being used for general storage. There were piles of old newspapers and sacks as well a mound of dusty hay, and though outside the storm raged on more fiercely than ever she realised that she felt almost comfortable. She went over to the low sink, suddenly aware that she was very thirsty, but there was no tap or pump so she turned away with a disappointed sigh and looked towards Sam, who was spreading newspapers on the floor and covering them with piles of hay. The glassless window was small and at knee height, but when she commented that this seemed strange Sam shook his head. ‘Not strange, convenient,’ he said firmly. ‘We don’t want a view; we want to keep the weather out. There’re cardboard boxes stacked up over there which will fill the gap quite nicely, and this . . .’ he indicated the result of his labours, ‘will make a very good bed for two, because if you ask me this weather is going to last for the rest of the night and I’ve no intention of venturing out into it whilst we can stay in this convenient shelter. I’ve put newspapers down for a mattress because tramps always tell you newspapers make excellent bedding. Take off that soaking wet coat, that thing you’ve got on your head and your boots, and we’ll snuggle up in the hay like a couple of little dormice and won’t poke so much as our noses outside until we can see where we are.’

Staying out of the blizzard seemed sensible enough, but Glenys was quite determined not to share a bed with him even if it was made out of newspapers and hay. She took off her short boots and then hung her coat and sopping headscarf over the window, which made Sam Trewin give a crack of laughter and tell her she would make Robinson Crusoe proud. ‘Thanks, but I’ll be quite happy curling up on what’s left of the hay,’ she said, turning towards him. Then she gasped. ‘Oh! Are you – are you very wet? Only my dress isn’t too bad at all, and I certainly don’t intend to take it off.’

‘My trousers are soaking,’ Sam said equably. ‘And very likely your dress is in the same state. Look, you silly girl, no one is likely to walk in on us, and tomorrow we’ll have a long walk ahead of us, because I’m pretty sure we took more than one wrong turning and have ended up a long way from Ruthin or Weathercock Farm. We both need a good sleep, so stop being ridiculous! Do you imagine that I’m going to ravish you?’ He was laughing, but the look he gave her was friendly and not mocking. ‘I promise you I’ll stick to my own side of the bed, trousers or no trousers. Will that satisfy you?’ As he spoke he was hanging his own clothing across the window. Then he snapped the torch off, plunging them into almost complete darkness, and the next thing Glenys knew she was being lifted up and dumped unceremoniously in the makeshift bed, with Sam’s broad chest against her back and his warm arms about her.