As she was getting into the car her mobile rang. She stared down at it, almost afraid to answer the call, then growled in annoyance at herself and answered it. ‘Megan Ross.’

‘Hi, Megan. Ben here.’

‘Hello.’ Joy welled in her. He hadn’t just been trying to get rid of her, then!

‘I’m sorry I had to rush away like that.’

‘Yes, it was a – a pity when we’d got another outing planned and—’ She was starting to babble. She clamped her lips together.

‘Megan, it looks like I’ll be back in England on Friday. Can we meet then?’

‘That’d be lovely.’ She beamed at the mere thought.

‘I’ll try to ring you again during the week.’

‘I’d like that.’

‘Oh, hell, there’s my taxi. I have to go now. Megan, I’m so glad we met.’

She sat staring at the phone for ages before she started the car, and couldn’t stop beaming as she drove along. Well, why shouldn’t she smile? He did want to see her again.

And she definitely wanted to see him.

As Megan limped up the path of her old home, she studied the neat little garden. Uncle John’s great love, that garden. What else had he done with his life? Or Aunt Eileen? Raised a family and stayed here in Upper Shenstead where they had both been born.

And she’d almost fallen into the same trap, because it was a lovely village and felt so safe. Only – it hadn’t been enough for her mother, who’d moved away from the area as soon as she left university, and it wasn’t enough for Megan, she knew that now.

There had to be something more to life than counting birds in the local woods, however necessary that task was! She wanted a husband, children – and even some modest adventures. This weekend had shown her that much, at least, even if nothing else worked out.

She had to keep reminding herself of that, because Ben wasn’t the usual sort of guy she went out with.

She knocked on the front door and called out a greeting as she opened it and walked straight into the front room. Uncle John, Auntie Eileen, Sarah, Don and little Amy were sitting with cups of tea in front of them, looking cosy and happy.

For a moment Megan felt like an outsider, then her uncle came across to hug her.

‘Great to see you, Meggie-girl. You haven’t called in for ages. You must have been working too hard.’

She returned his hug and the illusion of strangeness vanished.

‘You look well,’ her aunt said, sharp-eyed as ever. ‘But you’re limping.’

‘I twisted my ankle. It’s getting better.’

‘You’d better keep it raised. John fetch her a stool. And that’s a new sweater, isn’t it?’