“I don’t think I mean it,” he added.

Nory began walking again.

“All right, all right. I don’t. It’s just a reflex left over from an old habit. When you grow up in the shadow of people who look down on you, you learn to mirror back their casual disregard. But contrary to my statements of seconds ago, I am more worldly than I look. I was an academic, for god’s sake. And I don’t think anyone would stand a chance in hell of brainwashing you, Elinor Noel.”

He smiled at her, and Nory felt her anger dissipate.

“But you did used to chuck mud at me.” He grinned.

“You started it!” She laughed. “And I may be a bit touchy about the whole private-school thing. Being back here with everyone . . . trying to find my place in the dynamic. I guess you’re right: Old habits do die hard.”

They stood, appraising each other as the seconds ticked past. The look in his eyes told her that Isaac didn’t see her as his mate’s annoying kid sister anymore—not the kid part, at any rate.

“Nory!” Her mum’s voice cut through the tension between them. She was standing at the garden gate. “Come on, my girl, I’ve crumpets under the grill. Get in here and let me squeeze you! Hi, Isaac, do you want to come in for a cuppa?”

“Hi, Sasha, no thanks, I’ve got to get on. Is Thom in the office?”

“Yes, love, number-crunching as usual. Go on over.”

“Thanks.” He looked down at Nory. “I’ll see you later?”

“I expect you will.”

“Maybe your admirer will chase you back into my cottage,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe I won’t need to be chased.”

“There’s a mug of cocoa with your name on it if you find yourself in my neck of the woods.”

“Good to know,” said Nory, smiling.

“Your crumpets are burning!” her mum shouted.

Isaac laughed. “You’d better go.”

“I’ll see you,” she said, and walked through the gate, turning once and feeling intensely pleased to find Isaac still looking after her.

Ten

The kitchen was warm and cluttered, as always. It was the kitchen of a family who worked outside all day and didn’t have the time or the patience for anything that wasn’t functional and who needed a constant supply of good hearty food to keep them going, especially in winter. There was never much money when Thom and Nory were growing up, but they never went hungry.

The range pushed out heat, and already the smells of tonight’s dinner—stew, unless she was mistaken—slow-cooking in the bottom oven were beginning to permeate the space. Nory threw her coat over the back of a dining chair and hung her scarf over the pot rack hanging from the ceiling above the range to warm it up.