‘Come on then.’ He took her hands and pulled her to her feet. ‘There’s a stream down there. Nearest thing to the cold shower I’m in urgent need of. Run.’ Hand in hand they went flying down the hillside, slithering over the turf and leaping the hummocks with yells of warning and encouragement. Exuberance came back to Helen and she gave herself up completely to the rush of warm, scented air, the pounding of her feet and Tom, pulling her on and down the long slope. There was a wide expanse of lush meadow at the bottom and then a stream fringed with stumpy alders. The pitted marks of cattle hooves stood out in the sun-baked mud. The stream water was clear as glass over the smooth pebbles, and long green fronds of weed rippled like hair. Tom, in jeans and sneakers, didn’t even pause at the bank. He plunged straight into the water and spray sparkled up around him, catching the light in rainbow arcs. He bent to splash cold water over his face and hair and then straightened up, gasping and laughing.

‘Come on in. The water’s fine.’

More circumspect, Helen stopped on a flat stone at the edge. She peeled off her black subfusc stockings and Tom faltered at the pale flesh of smooth inner thigh that they revealed.

‘Don’t do that,’ he called out to her. ‘Or this cold shower will be wasted.’ Then Helen was wading in beside him, grinning in pleasure as the delicious cold water licked around her bare legs. In midstream the current pulled at her decorous black skirt and wrapped it limply against her.

‘Too bad if I have to resit the exams.’

‘Come here, naiad.’

She came and they stood together in the stream, arms wrapped around each other and their eyes closed against the light off the water.

It was right, Helen thought. She had been blind, and deaf, and hurtful to cling to a notion that a choice made was a choice for ever. Worse even than hurtful – proud. Too proud to admit her own mistake. But after so many mistakes, she knew that she was right now. As she realised it, the sun slid behind a long finger of cloud. She looked away up the slope. The water suddenly felt cold, and her bare legs were numbed by it.

‘I must go back to Oxford,’ she said quietly.

Shame pulled at her. It was unjust that she should be happy here in this summer landscape, while Darcy was waiting fruitlessly for her.

Without a word, Tom guided her across the smooth pebbles to the bank. They climbed the hill together, slowly, arms round each other’s waists.

At last, outside Follies House, he leaned across and kissed her, no more than a touch on the corner of her mouth.

‘Don’t be afraid.’

Helen looked levelly at him.