‘It was my fault. I wasn’t looking. The bike’s all buckled. Dad’s going to kill me.’

‘Don’t worry about that right now. Where are you?’

‘Not far from school.’

‘Right. Can you—’ She was interrupted by an impatient blast of a car horn. Savage would have to wait. ‘Can you get to school do you think?’

There was another muffled conversation. ‘The van driver says he can drop me at school.’

‘And are you happy to get in a car with him?’

‘Yeah, he’s got logos for Taylor’s Builders all over his van and he’s given me his business card. I think he’s legit.’

‘Then you go with him. Leave the bike where it is. If it’s damaged I doubt it will be stolen…’

‘He says he can take the bike in the back of the van.’

‘Can he bring it here?’ Another longer blast of the car horn from Savage punctuated the conversation.

‘Hang on.’ She got part of the conversation at Tom’s end. ‘Furrow’s Cross. Yeah. He says he will.’

‘Excellent. Right, what time are you due to finish school today?’

‘About three I think.’

‘I’ll try and get the bike fixed and back for then. Okay?’

‘Yeah. Thanks, Maggie.’

She could hear the relief in his voice and it warmed her heart that it was her he had turned to. ‘You’re welcome. Now forget about this and focus on that exam.’

‘Okay,’ came his weak reply and the call ended. She was sorry that Tom had had an accident but the joy she felt at hearing his voice was immense. A hammering on the front door pulled her attention.

‘Okay, I’m coming,’ yelled Maggie, heading for the door. She opened it to a thunderous-looking Savage. She held her palms up. ‘I’m sorry but Tom’s had an accident, been knocked off his bike, poor lad.’

Savage’s expression changed. ‘Sorry to hear that.’ He looked past Maggie and into the house. ‘You not coming then?’

‘No, I’m afraid I can’t now. I’ve got to work out how to get a bike fixed.’

Savage seemed to misinterpret her thoughtful expression as a plea for help. ‘I need to get off now. But you’re welcome to use my tool shed. And if you’re not coming I’ll likely be back within a couple of hours. I can give you a hand.’

‘You know about bikes?’

‘Yeah. I’m quite handy. When I was a nipper, I’d strip ’em down and build ’em back up again. Only transport we had as kids – that and Dad’s Lamborghini…’ Maggie’s eyes widened. ‘The tractor… that was made by Lamborghini.’

She chuckled and Savage’s eyes crinkled at the edges. ‘The fleeces are in the barn, if you’re okay to take them?’