‘Yup.’ The grin he gives me is totally smug and a little bit sultry. ‘Look on the bright side – at least you got some sleep.’

‘And I could do with a lot more of it.’

He grins again. ‘Go and get ready. I’ll wait.’

I mumble something unrepeatable about what he can do with his pumpkins, and he gives me another grin that says he heard every word. I turn around to go back inside, ridiculously grateful that the water and electricity came back on yesterday, but before I’ve got the door closed, he screeches the horn again.

‘What is wrong with you? You’ll wake the neigh … oh.’ When I look back at him, he’s got a travel mug in his hand and a grin on his face.

‘I am the neighbour. It’s not bothering me.’ He holds the cup up in an imaginary toast and winks at me.

I close the door with a resounding slam, and I can still hear his laughter from outside.

Inside, I do an excellent impression of a flapping fish as I run up the stairs with a change of clothes and my toothbrush and toothpaste. I will never take running water and electricity for granted again, even though the light shows up how badly the bathroom needs a proper clean. I promise it I’ll get onto it later as I manage to get ready in record time and fly back out the door.

Noel has still got his window wound down and his arm across the gap. He grins over the top of the mug as I close the door behind me and slip the key into my pocket.

‘Nice hair.’

‘I couldn’t find my hairbrush, okay? I’ll put it up now, I didn’t want to keep you waiting any longer in case you started screeching that blasted horn again.’

‘It looks fine. Maybe you could stop in one of my fields on the way and scare off a few crows for me.’

I must give him a look that says I want to kill him because he starts laughing. ‘It wasn’t an insult. You’d be the prettiest scarecrow I’ve ever had.’

I try to glare at him as I walk around the truck, but I’m fighting with myself not to smile because no one has ever called me pretty before, even in a scarecrow context.

Faded paint comes off in my hand as I touch the door handle on the passenger side, and the door lets out a groan when I pull it open. The smell of fresh coffee fills the truck and I close my eyes and breathe it in for a moment.

Then I remember that I’m about to get into a death-trap and I haven’t really woken up yet. ‘Is this thing roadworthy?’

‘Define roadworthy.’

‘Has it had an MOT this side of the Eighties?’