Catching sight of Adam waiting for her in a curve in the lane, all thoughts of her sister were gone. Raising her hand she walked faster, only to land up on her bottom in the snow as her feet slipped on a patch of ice. He reached her in moments, lifting her up, but then as she giggled and tried to talk she found herself pressed against his chest so tightly she could hardly breathe. When at last he released her she gazed in concern at his dear face, his handsome face. She knew every expression, every little nuance because hadn’t they loved each other since they were bairns larking about in the playground? But she had never seen him looking as he was now.

‘What’s the matter? What’s wrong?’

And when he didn’t answer, merely staring at her with haunted eyes, she said again, ‘What’s the matter? Why did you want to meet here? I couldn’t believe it when your Ronnie turned up at the shop with the note. Why didn’t you come yourself?’

She didn’t add that Mrs Walton, the owner of the costumier establishment where she had worked since leaving school some years ago at the age of thirteen, had been less than pleased to see Adam’s grubby little brother, Ronnie, marching into her immaculate shop with his snotty nose and holey trousers demanding to see ‘Adam’s Ruby’ as he’d smeared the contents of his nose across his face with the sleeve of his coat.

‘I couldn’t come myself,’ said Adam, even his voice sounding different.