She wanted to shout in sheer elation as they walked up the path through the small front garden. A bedraggled honeysuckle valiantly showing emerging green leaves clung to the fence, as did small bushes; she recognized daphne, with its purple winter blossom on the bare wood. Hydrangea with fragile dried heads of flowers and several roses on one side were all in need of pruning and attention; on the other side was an apple tree with withered fruit hanging from the branches, and small plots of potatoes, onions and other vegetables which hadn’t been tended in quite some time. It won’t take long to put in order, she thought. It’s just a small patch to turn over, nowhere near as large as our garden in Holderness.

The door opened as they approached and a dark-haired young man of about seventeen stood inside.

‘Good afternoon, Mr Tannerson sir,’ he said politely. ‘Mrs Randell? Nice to meet you.’

‘Mrs Harry Randell,’ Tannerson introduced her. ‘This is Henry Thorpe, Mrs Lucan’s brother.’

‘How do you do?’ Ellen smiled at the young man as he invited her in.

‘These are old cottages, it’s only fair to say, Mrs Randell,’ he told her. ‘We think they were once farm buildings, but that’s only an assumption, and we’ve upgraded them to be fit for habitation.’

There was a lobby, too small to be called a hall, just a place to wipe your boots, which led into a parlour with a planked floor where a low fire burned in the hearth; a bow window with a deep sill faced across to the other cottages. A door led to a kitchen with a cooking range, a deep stone sink and a staircase door leading upstairs to the bedrooms.

There wasn’t any furniture, which was a pity, she thought, clasping her hands to her face, because she wanted to sit in a chair and cry. She hoped with all her heart that they might become the tenants of this lovely little house.

Mr Tannerson and Henry Thorpe looked at her anxiously. ‘Is it not up to your expectations, Mrs Randell?’ Tannerson began.

‘Oh, no … I mean yes,’ she stammered. ‘It’s so much more. So much better than I expected.’

‘Oh, that’s a relief.’ Henry Thorpe blew out his cheeks. ‘This is ’first time I’ve ever shown anyone round and I thought I’d made a hash of it.’

‘May I look upstairs?’ she asked, and Henry eagerly opened the staircase door and ushered her up the narrow steps, begging her to take care on the dog-legged curve at the top which led straight into the main bedroom, where there were two windows the same as downstairs, a small fire grate, and a door leading to another smaller bedroom with a tiny one not much bigger than a store cupboard off that.

‘Oh,’ she breathed. ‘It’s perfect, Mr Tannerson, Mr Thorpe.’