Much later when her grannie had gone up to bed and Ella had washed every plate and cup and saucer that Esther seemed to possess, she went outside to shut the hens up for the night, calling softly to her cat. ‘Tibby? Come on. They’ve all gone now.’ But there was no sign of him. She smiled to herself. I expect he’s mousing in the field, she thought.

It was a beautiful night, crisp and clear, the moon and stars bathing the countryside in their silvery glow. She stood and breathed in the air, listened to the distant sound of the sea, so much clearer in the darkness. She strolled amongst the trees in the orchard and then pushed her way through the hole in the hedge.

‘Tibby? Where are you?’ she called again. Even in the moonlight she could see the flattened wheat and sighed. She really would have to tackle this field soon, but she wasn’t quite sure what to do and she didn’t want to worry her grandparents. Maybe she would walk over to Rookery Farm tomorrow and ask Uncle Danny for his advice.

She heard Rob’s whistling through the darkness long before she heard the rustle of his footsteps through the corn coming towards the hole in the hedge.

‘And what brings you out so late, Bumpkin?’ she called.

‘By heck. Ya made me jump.’ He laughed and, as he came closer, said, ‘I might ask the same of you, Townie.’

‘I’m looking for that stupid cat of mine. I reckon he took fright at all the visitors.’

‘Oh, he’ll come back when he’s good and ready.’

They stood together listening to the sounds of the night. The soft hoot of an owl and a rustling in the hedgerows as the night creatures came awake.

‘The old ’uns all right?’ he enquired.

In the darkness, she smiled. ‘Fine. Tired, but I think they’ve enjoyed it.’

Again there was a long silence and she heard him shuffling his boot on the ground.

Then through the darkness came the same words her grandmother had asked, ‘When are you going, then?’

‘I’m not.’

‘Ya mean – ya don’t mean – ya staying?’

‘Yes. You won’t get rid of me so easy again.’

‘I’m glad,’ he said simply. ‘They need you. We . . .’ his voice dropped so low she almost missed the words, ‘. . . we all do.’

She felt his arm come round her shoulder and she let it lie there. It felt warm; it felt right. But there was one question she had to ask; something she had to know.

Softly, she said, ‘Rob?’

‘Mmm?’

‘What about Janice?’

‘Janice?’ She felt his head turn towards her and, although in the shadows she could not read his expression, she could hear the surprise in his voice. ‘What about Janice? Didn’t you know? She’s gone to live in Leicester. Followed some lads back there in the summer.’