‘Good evening, Mrs Briggs. I’ll make sure Lily is home at a reasonable time.’

Lily smiled at her mother. ‘Come on,’ she said to John, ‘let’s go.’

Florence stood in the doorway and noticed the attentiveness of the headmaster as he guided Lily into the passenger seat.

What a kind and caring man, she thought … and perhaps …

Within moments she left such reverie behind and went back inside to put Freddie to bed.

By eight o’clock John Pruett and Lily were in the vicarage parlour staring at one of the wonders of the modern age. As usual, television programmes had closed down at 6.25 p.m. following Children’s Television, which had shown a cowboy film starring Tex Ritter, who had rounded up a gang of rustlers in the Wild West while never once looking untidy. Programmes resumed at 8 p.m. and the first of the evening was called Newsreel.

‘It’s a bit like the Pathé News,’ said Lily.

‘In your own home,’ added John.

Vera seemed pleased. This was a genteel evening, the kind of which she approved, and she served tea in china cups with slices of Victoria sponge.

At a quarter past eight they settled to watch a sporting documentary, Test Cricketers of Tomorrow, and Joseph and John shared their expert knowledge. The highlight, however, was a programme called Ballet for Beginners, during which Vera came to the fore and made sure her assembled guests knew the difference between a ballotté and a ballonné.

It was a successful evening and when it came to an end John took Lily back to Kirkby Steepleton. He drove in silence and she wondered if there was something wrong, but then presumed he just needed to concentrate on the treacherous road conditions. For John’s part, he loved sitting so close to Lily but struggled to find an amusing anecdote or an interesting comment. As always, in her presence he was almost tongue-tied.

When he had walked her to the front door, Lily thanked him for the lift and wished him a safe journey home. ‘See you tomorrow,’ she called after him. She was keen to get in out of the cold and closed the door quickly.

It seemed an age later that John Pruett pulled up outside his own cottage. He walked to his front door, stopped under the porch, removed his hat and looked up at myriad stars. The night was calm now and the moon was bright in a clear sky. A feather of breeze ruffled his hair and he flattened it with his palm in that familiar habit of his. Suddenly his eyes were stung with tears and his heart was heavy.

It was balm to his conscience to know that Lily respected him as a professional colleague, but it would never be any more than that. He smiled and shook his head. It had merely been the foolish fancy of an older man and he knew he should have known better.