‘My grandparents used to live in Nettlewick. In the old farmhouse that overlooks the river.’

The windows are steaming up. He rolls down his window a little, to let in some fresh air, and leans forward to wipe the windscreen with his hand. I notice his wedding ring and instinctively curl my bare fingers into my lap.

‘Oh, I know the house.’

‘You do?’

‘Yeah, I did some work there a few years back. They have a big oak in the back garden.’

‘Yes, that’s the one! Me and my sister used to climb it.’ Suddenly reminded, I feel a beat of joy. ‘One summer we built a treehouse in it, and Granddad made us a swing.’

The driver takes his eyes off the road to stare across at me and I shift uncomfortably.

‘Sorry, did I say something?’

His face breaks into a grin. ‘Well, I’ll be damned. Livvie?’

I feel a jolt of surprise as he calls me by my old nickname.

‘Don’t you recognize me?’

‘Should I?’ I search the letter box of face for clues, then quickly gesture to the temporary traffic lights ahead. ‘Watch out!’

He brakes sharply and, as we come to a halt, he takes the opportunity to swivel his full body towards me and peer at me. ‘It really is you!’ He looks triumphant. ‘I can’t believe it! Little Livvie!’

Oh God. Abruptly it dawns.

‘Ben Armstrong,’ I say flatly, trying to keep the dismay out of my voice.

‘Yep, that’s me.’ He’s grinning at me even more broadly now and I feel slightly frozen. I’d forgotten all about him. Or, more likely, I’d deliberately blanked him out. Now here he is, sitting right next to me.

A car honks behind us. I notice the lights have turned green.

‘All right, hold your horses,’ he yells, gesturing rudely at the driver out of the window, before cranking the van into gear and setting off again.

‘I see you haven’t changed,’ I mutter, turning my head to look out of the window and hoping he doesn’t hear me.

‘What was that?’

‘I said nothing’s changed.’ I gesture to the sweeping valley and endless fields that flash past us on either side of the van.

‘That’s the Dales for you,’ he nods. ‘Must be . . . what? Thirty years since you were here last?’

‘Yes, something like that.’

Every summer Josie and I used to hang out with a gang of local kids, playing games and swimming in the river. Ben was a few years older than me and a bit of a troublemaker. Forever getting drunk and into fights, he was your typical bad boy. Good-looking, unapologetic, fearless. Sexy as hell. As a teenager I had a secret crush on him, but he fancied my sister Josie and was always showing off, trying to get her attention. I think the only time he spoke to me was to make fun of my flat chest and braces.

‘It’s so great to see you! After all this time,’ he’s saying now, shaking his head from side to side in disbelief. He doesn’t remember. To him it was nothing, just harmless teasing. To my thirteen-year-old soul, it was crushing. ‘How are you?’