Pam looked up from her knitting. Her sunglasses were perched on top of her head. ‘Staying out of the sun. Don’t want to get a tan, thank you very much.’

Charity and Gillian, who were as brown as berries, exchanged amused glances.

‘I think it’s rather common,’ Pam continued. ‘No offence!’

Gillian shook her head. ‘None taken, I’m sure.’

Almost as soon as they settled themselves down on the tartan rugs, in the warmth of the morning sun, Charity and Gillian fell asleep.

Maggie decided to head for the outbuildings and check on Tabby.

There was no sign of life in the cobbled yard or stables, apart from the brown horse that had pulled the cart from the station. Its head was hanging over a stable door. But then Tabby came running over the yard to meet her, meowing softly, and lay down on the cobbles in the sunshine.

‘There you are, Tabs!’ Maggie ran her hands down the cat’s soft fur. She looked well enough. Leaving the cat to her sunbathing, Maggie headed for the house to fetch a magazine for herself. On her way through the back door, she bumped straight into Lady Ashford.

‘Ah! Mary!’

‘Yes?’ Maggie said. Blimey, why had she said that? It was too late to correct her Ladyship now.

Lady Ashford was as glamorous as ever, dressed for riding, in a tweed jacket with velvet lapels, cream breeches and long leather boots.

She stepped back and narrowed her eyes at Maggie. ‘How strong are you?’

‘Me? Oh, no, not very strong at—’

‘Would you do me an immense favour?’

Maggie hesitated. She could hardly say no. She gave a brief nod and followed Lady Ashford back towards the stable yard.

‘Terrible about John Lewis, isn’t it?’ Lady Ashford murmured. ‘Oh, haven’t you heard? Bombed out. Completely flattened.’

‘Goodness. Was anyone hurt?’

‘Oh, heavens, I don’t know. Other shops on Oxford Street have gone too. Isn’t the war a frightful bore?’

They were marching over the cobbled yard now.

‘It won’t take a sec,’ Lady Ashford said. ‘The lad normally gives me a leg up but it’s his day off. It’s everyone’s day off!’ She laughed. ‘Luckily, I can still tack up! Pony Club. You never forget.’

She slapped a whip into the gloved palm of her left hand. ‘It’s such a beautiful day. I simply had to go for a ride, you know?’

Maggie didn’t know. She couldn’t imagine how it even felt to have that much freedom. Her head was spinning. It was something to do with a horse, this favour, and her experience with horses was precisely nil.

And – oh gosh – there it was. A beast of a horse, tied to a rail, was snorting and swinging out its enormous back end, one way and then the other. As it skittered and danced, its hooves hammered on the cobbles and echoed around the yard.