Rob came to say goodbye at the end of August. From her bedroom window, Ella saw him climb the stile and walk across the stubble towards Brumbys’ Farm; this year the fields between the farms had grown wheat. At the hole in the hedge, he paused, hands shoved deep into his pockets, and glanced up at the house. She stood back from the window, not wanting him to see her watching him.

Her heart turned over. How handsome he looked, the open-necked white shirt dazzling against his tanned skin, his long, lithe body. He seemed to have grown, even, during this last year and now stood a head taller than his own father. He seemed to be standing there trying to decide whether to come through the hedge or not. Black curly hair ruffled by the wind and with a strange, nervous look on his face as he had hovered uncertainly near the hedge, he reminded her so much of the young soldier in the photograph in her grandmother’s bedroom, about to go into battle. Then she saw her grandmother come round into the front garden and walk towards him through the few trees left in the orchard. Ella watched as Esther adopted her usual formidable pose: feet planted firmly apart, hands on hips. Through the open window, her voice drifted clearly to the watching girl. ‘Well, a’ ya coming through or aren’t ya?’

She saw Rob grin, push his way through the hedge and walk towards the waiting woman. Closer to each other, their voices not so audible, Ella could not hear the interchange of conversation. They talked for a few moments and then slowly he turned and walked back towards the hedge. He was going and without even coming to find her to say goodbye. He had come to make his peace with her grandmother, but still, he was avoiding Ella. Disappointment, hurt and anger flooded through her. She felt herself clenching her jaw. All right, if that was the way he wanted it, that was the way he could have it! But the lump in her throat threatened to choke her.

The last thing she saw before she turned abruptly away from the window was her grandmother putting her arms around Rob and giving him a swift, affectionate hug; something she had never done to Ella.

An early-morning September mist, with the hint of autumnal sharpness in it, shrouded the farm as Ella let herself quietly out of the back door and tiptoed across the yard. From the direction of the barn, Tibby came towards her, his tail straight up and crooked in a question. She bent and stroked his head. ‘Bye, Tibby, old darling,’ she whispered. ‘I wish I could take you with me, but you wouldn’t like it in the city.’