Danny released her and stood up. He held out his hands to pull her up from the sand, but before he had regained his breath, she was up and out of the sheltered sandy hollow racing down the slope of the eastern dunes. Across the flat marsh she ran, jumping the winding creeks, squelching through the mud, her long hair flying free.

‘Katie – Katie, wait for me,’ she heard him calling behind her. But as always she was darting ahead of him. He was still splashing through the streams as she was climbing the line of sand-dunes which ran parallel to the road leading from the town of Lynthorpe to Fleethaven Point. Then she was beneath the elder trees, slithering down into the lane.

‘Grandad – Grandad!’

The rattling wheels of Will Benson’s carrier’s cart came to a halt. ‘Why, Katie, me little lass, what are you doin’ at home? Ah thought you’d be in school.’

He leaned down from his high seat on the front of the cart above the broad backs of his two horses and held out his hand to her. ‘Up you come then, me lass.’

‘It’s still the Easter holidays, Grandad.’ Kate settled herself on the narrow seat at his side and smiled up at him, tossing back the strands of hair which fluttered across her face.

‘O’ course it is. Ah’d forgotten. Why, here’s Danny an’ all,’ Will said, as the boy came crashing down the wooded slope of the dunes and into the lane. ‘Come on, lad, climb up. There’s no room on the seat, but you can stand on the shaft. Hang on, mind.’

Danny grinned up at the carrier, caught hold of the side of the cart and pulled himself up. ‘Thanks, Mester Benson. Just as far as the gate. I’d best be off home mesen.’

’Ow’s it feel to be a working man, then, eh, Danny?’ Will Benson laughed wheezily. There wasn’t much that escaped the carrier. News travelled on his cart alongside the pots, pans and provisions.

‘He dun’t start till Monday, Grandad,’ Kate said.

‘Holiday, is it, lad, ’afore you even start? Eh, but Ah dun’t know what things is coming to. Why, in my day . . .’