‘I honestly don’t know if I’m going to be able to do this. There’s some smart people on the course. People with degrees. Years of experience. I’m definitely the novice.’

‘And your point is?’

‘It’s hard, Tim. Really hard. Everyone else seemed to “get” stuff a lot quicker than me.’

‘You’ll speed up. It’s just new, that’s all. You figure out what you need to do?’

‘Find out who owns the farm – to start with anyway.’ As Kate put her feet up on the table, she accidentally knocked off one of Tim’s documents. She picked it up, just as he also went for it. He held out his hand.

She noticed the pile on the table for the first time. They looked official. Financial papers, legal documents. ‘You have a busy night?’

‘Just doing a bit of filing. You know.’ He opened and closed his hand for the document she was holding.

As Kate passed it over, her eyes caught the top of it.

‘But this is addressed to you in Northampton,’ she said, surprised.

‘Where I used to live. You know that.’

She did: it was where he’d grown up and his parents were still there, in the same house they’d been in for forty years. They’d Skyped once or twice, not having managed to meet yet. Kate had been caught up in her own life and they couldn’t bring themselves to visit for a weekend, as it would disrupt their routine of Friday night bingo.

‘But . . .’ She blushed, feeling as if she was prying.

‘What?’

‘The date on the top of the letter. It’s January last year.’

‘And?’

‘Well, that’s only a couple of weeks before we met.’

‘And?’

‘I thought . . . well, you didn’t ever say that you’d only just moved down south.’

‘You never asked,’ he said briskly. ‘Is it important?’

No, thought Kate, she supposed not.

TWENTY-TWO

Kate had risen early and taken the train to Ramsbourne, nervous about the task ahead. She walked down the dirt track that ran adjacent to Hawthorne Lane. It was muddy and large, squelchy ruts ambushed her supermarket trainers, however hard she tried to avoid them. She made a mental note to look in the second-hand shop for a pair of wellies. Then, after about half a mile, she came into a large yard, flanked by seven or eight big outbuildings: Ashdown Farm.

Kate looked around at the barns and the massive steel silos, wondering where the farm manager might be. Or perhaps he was in one of the two thousand acres he managed.

One of the barns had its doors wide open. She tentatively made her way across, looked into the cavernous space. Bales of hay were stacked at one end, reaching far up to the ceiling – several times her height. The room had a sweet, earthy smell and, other than the hay, it was empty.

‘Can I help you?’

She jumped. Flustered, she turned on her full-beam smile at the man who stood in the vast doorway, his arms folded. She tried to make out his features, but he was in silhouette. Best to speak.