“’Tisn’t right; my grandson what this taxi rightly belongs to, him that’s serving in the Navy, he says to me before he goes: ‘no need to tell you not to smash the taxi, grand-dad, ’cos at the speed what you can drive you couldn’t, and no need to tell you not to fiddle with ’er, but to take her to the garridge if she’s actin’ queer. All you got to do is just to treat ’er gentle same as if she was a ’oss, and if there’s any luggage lift it in. Folks don’t like payin’ for a taxi and liftin’ their stuff theirselves.’”

Janet laughed.

“I don’t mind lifting mine. Have you good news of your grandson?”

“Yes. ’Is wife ’eard only this week. He seems rarely pleased with the way the Navy’s doin’.”

Inside the taxi Sheila eyed Janet disapprovingly.

“You shouldn’t encourage people like him.”

“Why not? He’s an old pet.”

“He’s too familiar. They all are in this village. It’s just because we live in a cottage. They’re quite different to the Haines. They talk about Barbara Haines as if she was royalty, and there’s no difference between us except that she lives in a big house.”

Janet glanced anxiously at Sheila. She looked well, but of course that might be the sunburn. She did hope she wasn’t taking a dislike to Worsingfold. The cottage was so miraculously cheap, and it was so unlikely to be bombed, it would be a disaster if she wanted to move.

“She was awfully nice on the train.” Janet spoke cautiously, not wanting to annoy Sheila the moment she got home. “How’s Mum?”

“Oh, she’s all right.”

Janet felt that Sheila was on the offensive and could not imagine why.

“You look marvellously well.”

“I’m not. I still get terribly tired and my nerves are ghastly; they keep me awake at night. Do you know, sometimes I lie just shaking like a jelly about nothing at all. I was telling Mr. Sheldon, and he says he supposes it’s the awful time I went through, and I expect he’s right.”

Janet’s eyes opened.

“What awful time?”

Sheila flushed.

“Oh, the bombing and all that.”

“But you didn’t have much of it. The doctor ordered Mum away almost as soon as it started. The worst part was after you’d gone, thank goodness.”

“I’m very highly strung. Even a siren upsets me.”

Janet had heard this too often to want to start it all over again. “What’s Mr. Sheldon like? He’s our landlord, isn’t he?” Sheila lit up. She thought all men an engrossing topic of conversation.

“He’s rather good-looking in a he-mannish brown way. He’s a farmer, of course, so he’s not polished like the sort of men we’re used to, but . . .”

Janet was laughing.