The car braked, the broad tyres digging deep into the gravel of the drive with a scrunching noise. The driver leapt from his seat and came running towards her, not even bothering to switch off his engine or close the car door behind him.

‘I’m so sorry. Are you hurt? Did the car hit you?’

He was kneeling down in front of her, without thought for his light grey trousers and Ella found herself looking up into the bluest pair of eyes she had ever seen, except when she looked in the mirror.

He was helping her to her feet, gently brushing away the earth and examining her hand, the blood now oozing out down the length of the scratch.

‘Please come into the house and bathe that. It’s quite deep.’

‘Well . . .’ She made herself sound deliberately hesitant, as if not wanting to intrude, though she could hardly have planned it better.

The woman was still hovering near the front door. ‘Mother,’ the man said, ‘please show this young lady to the cloakroom and see she has everything she needs while I put the car away.’ He turned back to Ella. ‘I won’t be a moment.’

He was smiling down at her, his blue eyes warm and friendly. He put his hand out to her, not quite touching her, to usher her towards the door into the house.

The woman led the way into a cool hall with a polished parquet floor, a huge circular Chinese rug covering the centre. An enormous arrangement of flowers in a basket on the small side table scented the air as the woman waved a beringed hand and said, ‘He will drive in at such a speed. I keep telling him he’s not flying a plane now. This way, my dear.’

She opened a door to the left-hand side of the hall and ushered Ella into a cloakroom with a wash basin, toilet and pegs for coats. ‘I’ll fetch the first-aid box from the bathroom. Just run the cold water over your hand.’

As she bustled away, Ella turned on the tap and let the water run over her hand, washing away the blood and any dirt from the wound.

A knock came at the door and the man popped his head round it. ‘Okay?’

She turned, smiled at him and nodded, knowing she was staring at him but unable to tear away her gaze. He squeezed his tall frame into the small room and as his mother came back with a box of first-aid materials he took it from her, set it on a ledge near the basin and said, ‘Now then, let’s see if I can remember all my first-aid training from my RAF days.’

‘That’s why this young lady’s here,’ said the woman from the other side of the half-open door. ‘She’s a student doing research about the RAF. She says you know her family.’