Walking a few steps forward, he was now at the small, neat house with a dark green door and matching shutters. Angela’s house. Pushing open the gate, he walked down the garden path, lifted the brass door knocker and so announced his arrival.

A moment later the door opened, and he was greeted by a smiling Sarah. He forced a smile, but disappointment slid through him. Blackie had believed he and Angela would be alone, but obviously not. Sarah was probably there as a chaperone, to protect Angela’s reputation. Even though she was a widow, and would have more freedom than an unmarried girl, she would still need to be respectable. This thought brought a little burst of laughter, as he stepped inside the entrance hall.

‘Why are you amused?’ Sarah asked, peering at him.

‘I’m not,’ he announced swiftly, pushing the laughter down. ‘I’m just … glad to see ye.’

‘No, you’re not,’ Sarah shot back, a smile on her face. ‘You thought you’d be having supper alone with my sister, and you are. I just came to bring her a few things. I’ll be off soon. So, come on, she’s out in the back garden.’

Blackie was thrilled to know he would have Angela to himself, and his anticipation about a pleasant evening was high. As they walked down a corridor to the back door, he glimpsed a room through an open door, with elegant furnishings arranged with taste.

The garden took him by surprise. It was filled with flowers and flowering bushes and the last of the June roses, all surrounded by a high stone wall. Two willow trees brought shade to the lawn.

Angela stood up, as Sarah and Blackie came towards her. There was a wide smile on her face and, when he stopped in front of her, she stretched out her hand to shake his, staring up into his face.

Blackie took it, held it tightly in his own, gazing down at her, savouring the moment. Her blue eyes were sparkling and there was a faint blush on her neck and cheeks. He knew she felt as he did.

She broke the intensity, the silence between them. ‘Welcome to my house, Blackie. Come, sit down, and Sarah will help me serve lemonade.’

‘Thank ye,’ he managed to say, once again overwhelmed by her beauty and her simple but elegant dress. It was a pale lilac colour that accentuated her eyes, cut with a low, scooped-out bodice and loose sleeves, with the slimmer silhouette that was becoming popular. Her skin was pale ivory and he wanted to touch her, love her. He stepped away and hovered near a chair, his heart thudding.

Soon the three of them were sitting together, enjoying the last of the afternoon sun. Sarah was talking.

‘So Alf has kept me informed, Blackie. I was just telling Angela, before you arrived, that Gwen has still not come home. Nor has she been found.’