It was still raining – ‘siling’ as her grandad would say. At the thought of her grandad, her spirits lifted.

She could almost hear his voice. ‘If ya needs me, lass,’ he’d told her, ‘just send word and Ah’ll come.’

Well, she’d do better than that; she was going to him.

It wasn’t long before she was soaked. The wet seeped through her clothes and was cold against her skin. She walked briskly in an effort to keep warm, but the wind whipped bitingly across the rolling countryside of the Wolds and she was soon shivering. She was sure she had kept to the main road the old man had shown her but she could not find a signpost that bore the name of Suddaby.

It was at that point that she began to be afraid she was lost.

She was taking little running steps every so often and sobs punctuated her rapid breathing. Her head began to ache and her throat was parched; she was hot and then shivering with cold and the next moment sweating again. She looked around for a farmhouse or cottage, but the road stretched ahead through open country. There were no buildings of any kind now, only fields ploughed in neat furrows on either side as far as she could see.

Kate began to pray. ‘Oh please, please help me . . .’

She was so tired, her legs ached and . . . Faintly, behind her, came the sound she most wished to hear at this moment; the sound of cart-wheels – a carrier’s cart.

‘Oh, Grandad, Grandad,’ she sobbed thankfully. Turning, she stood watching the carrier approach, knowing what a pathetic, bedraggled creature she must appear to him. The cart slowed and she lifted her eyes to the man on the seat at the front.

‘Well, little maid, and what be you a’doin’ out on ya own a day like this’n?’

It was not her grandad. If she had not been exhausted and cold and almost on the point of collapse, her common sense would have told her that it would be too much of a coincidence to even hope that it could be her grandfather. This was not his route anyway. But in her confused state, it had seemed like an answer to her prayer.

She stood, bemused, staring up at the carrier’s wrinkled face. ‘Want a ride, young’un?’ he asked kindly. ‘Ya fair soaked and no mistake. Ain’t ya even got a coat?’

He reached down his gnarled hand and, putting her small, cold hand into his, Kate found herself hoisted on to the seat beside him.

The carrier reached back into his cart. ‘Here, wrap ya’sen in this.’

Gratefully, Kate wrapped the waterproof cape around her. The carrier flicked the reins and his two horses moved forward. ‘Where be you a’goin’?’