Tom settled back to concentrate on the winding road and reflected that sometimes the unexpected made his job interesting.

Dr Davenport recognized a determined young woman when he saw one and, after a brief examination, Lily was declared fit for duty. Tom drove her back to school and carried her books into the office. After a word with John, and satisfied all was well, he drove off.

In the staff-room Vera prepared a cup of sweet tea for Lily and it was agreed she would stay with her until morning break. John took all the children into the hall for an extended assembly, after which the Revd Joseph Evans arrived for more Bible stories with the younger children while John taught his own class.

During morning break Vera took out her ‘Emergency Repairs’ tin from the cupboard in the staff-room and sewed the torn sleeve on Lily’s jacket.

‘Thank you, Vera,’ said Lily, ‘it’s good as new. Everyone has been so kind.’

‘It was lucky Sergeant Feather came along,’ remarked Vera.

‘Yes, he handled the situation very professionally. He seemed to think he had an idea who the driver might have been – but he didn’t mention any names.’

Vera pursed her lips and kept her thoughts to herself.

‘The sergeant arranged for my bicycle to be repaired, so I’ll collect it later, probably next week. He really couldn’t have been more helpful.’

‘Tom Feather is a good man,’ said Vera with gravitas. ‘By all accounts during the war he fought with distinction, but he rarely speaks of it.’ She stared out of the window and watched a flurry of fallen leaves swirl in the breeze. ‘He lives with his mother, Gracie, on the road to Easington. Sadly, their house in London was bombed in the Blitz. Tom’s father was killed and his mother was injured and still uses a walking stick. After the war they came to Yorkshire to start a new life.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Lily, ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘Yes, Gracie is a kind lady, always supports the church. She will be at the Harvest Festival on Sunday.’

‘Looking forward to it,’ said Lily. ‘I’ll be there with my mother and Freddie.’

It was then that a battered 1940 Vauxhall 10 that had clearly seen better days trundled up the drive and stopped in front of the boiler-house doors. A short, stocky, bald man with a handlebar moustache climbed out and lifted a heavy box out of the boot.

‘Ah, it’s here!’ said Vera. ‘My new typewriter, all the way from Leicester.’

Lily returned to her classroom while Vera hurried to the school door and held it open.

‘’Ello, Miss,’ panted the red-faced man as he staggered into the entrance hall with the box. ‘I’m Clarence Tingle – we spoke on t’telephone.’

‘Good morning, I’m Miss Evans. And this is my new typewriter, I presume.’