Major Buthlay – George, as he insisted they all call him – ate heartily and accepted seconds. ‘This beef is the best I’ve ever tasted, Maggie.’

‘Thank you, George. I suppose it’s just practice. Would you like dessert? Marion made an apple crumble this afternoon. Our own apples. She’s a very good cook, you know.’

George looked across at Marion in a way that produced an unfamiliar feeling of warmth within her. ‘Tell me about yourself, Marion.’

‘I am a governess. I work in London.’

‘That sounds very interesting.’

‘It can be.’ She changed the subject, not wanting to be drawn to say more. ‘And what about you? I hear you met my dad at a car rally?’

George took his napkin from his knee, rolled it carefully and placed it on the table. He smiled. ‘Robert and I have a shared interest in motorcars and I was with a friend who owns a car salesroom in Stirling. I help him out with the business now and again, and we bumped into Robert while looking over a Rover Sports tourer. Superb motor – and way beyond the reach of an army pension.’ He laughed. ‘Robert and I drooled over it together.’

‘We did that.’ Robert smiled. ‘Triple cylinders, elbow dip doors. I could see you and me, Maggie, driving down to Dover, catching the boat train and travelling down to Monte Carlo.’

‘Get away with you!’ Maggie was coquettish after an extra sherry. ‘And where would we get that sort of money? Or a passport!’

‘For you, my darling, anything.’ He smiled at her fondly.

Marion stood up. ‘I’ll get the crumble. Custard or cream for you, George?’

‘Now there’s an offer.’ His smile was so innocent and yet Marion found herself blushing.

In the kitchen, she opened the back door and fanned her cheeks to cool them. ‘Pull yourself together,’ she muttered.

Placing his spoon into his empty bowl, George wiped his lips on his napkin and told Marion, ‘I have never tasted apple crumble as perfect as that. You have inherited your mother’s talent for cooking, Marion.’

Maggie reached over and clutched at his arm. ‘She would make a fine wife one day.’

Marion winced.

Robert came to the rescue. ‘One day, I have no doubt – but at the moment Marion’s career is in London, where she is doing very well.’

‘You must be very proud of her.’ George grinned and checked his pocket watch. ‘I fear I would be outstaying my welcome if I didn’t take my leave of you now.’

‘Is there anything else can I offer you?’ asked Maggie, verging on desperation. ‘Another tea?’

‘Another whisky?’ Robert mimed pouring a glass.

‘No, no. I am working tomorrow.’

At the front door they said their goodbyes, with Maggie inviting him to ‘Come again any time. Don’t be a stranger.’

George shook their hands, leaving Marion until last. ‘My dear Miss Crawford, I hope we may meet again.’

‘It’s been very nice to meet you,’ she said and, as she began to release her hand, his grip tightened.