‘I thought you’d be wanting a carriage and fine horses?’ He moved the pipe from one corner of his mouth to the another, laughing.

She smiled politely. ‘Just a wee taxi, please.’

She heard footsteps behind her, but kept her focus on Mr McGregor, who was running his finger down a notebook with that evening’s bookings. ‘Maybe in about twenty minutes. Jim is dropping at the hospital just now and Robbie has just gone home for the day.’

The footsteps behind her were getting closer. A man’s voice said, ‘Marion. Your chariot awaits if you’d care to hop in?’

She spun round in delighted surprise. ‘George!’

‘Hello.’ He smiled at her. ‘I hope you don’t mind, but Robert told me which train you were on. How could I leave you stranded?’

Mr McGregor sat back in his old wooden rotating chair. ‘Do you know this gentleman, Miss Crawford?’

‘Oh, yes, thank you, I do.’ Marion was flushed with pleasure. ‘George, this is Mr McGregor, and Mr McGregor, this is George Buthlay. A …’ She wasn’t sure how to introduce him. ‘A friend of the family.’

‘So, you won’t be needing a car?’

‘No. I am fine now, thank you.’

As they walked towards George’s motorcar, George carrying her luggage, she said, ‘Funnily enough I wrote to you yesterday.’

He placed her bags in the boot, and turned around with a sheepish smile. ‘I must apologize for my lack of letters. I have been very busy with the garage and I have moved. I meant to send you my new address.’

He opened the car door for her and waited as she settled herself. As he walked round to get into the driver’s seat, she allowed herself to relax in the face of his simple explanation. He had been too busy and he had moved. There was nothing so very terrible in that.

‘Where have you moved to?’ she asked, as George got in and started up the engine.

‘A nice little house in between here and Stirling.’ He manoeuvred the car out of the station car park and set off towards her home. ‘I am closer to work, and it will still be a short drive to visit you. You remember Christopher, from the garage?’

She did, and not favourably. She nodded.

‘He and I are sharing the place. Decent rent and a little garden. You will have to come and see it.’

‘I would love to.’

‘Hardly a palace, though – it’s not what you’ll be used to.’

‘George, please don’t say that. Whenever I come home, people expect me to be … oh, I don’t know … grand or something? But I am a proper Scots lassie, nothing else.’

He looked at her and smiled, his eyes crinkling with fun. ‘I have missed you.’

Her heart did a flip. ‘Don’t talk nonsense.’

The six weeks that followed were something that Marion had never experienced before. She was romanced.

George gave her his constant attention. During the week she hardly saw him as he was so busy with Christopher selling cars, but at weekends they shared walks and picnics, quiet pubs and dinners.