Maggie and Tom continued to bounce ideas around while Christine tidied up. When Christine jangled the keys they knew it was time to leave.

‘Do you want to carry on this chat at mine, tomorrow?’ asked Maggie. ‘I’ll do dinner.’

‘Yeah. Great,’ said Tom, holding the door open for her.

*

Maggie had expected Tom to arrive close to dinnertime but he arrived on the first bus.

‘You’re keen,’ she said, letting him in.

‘Am I too early?’ He paused with his jacket zip half unfastened.

She regretted her comment – she didn’t want him to feel unwelcome. ‘No. You would have been welcome for breakfast.’ His eyes lit up at this. ‘I don’t like stealing your time that’s all,’ she explained.

‘Honestly, Maggie. After my paper round I have nothing else to do on a Sunday.’ He hung up his coat.

‘Aren’t you meant to be revising?’ She led the way through to the kitchen.

‘Yeah. And I am.’ He didn’t look too sure about it. ‘It’s just that the library is more important.’

She turned to face him square on. ‘No, it’s not, Tom. Your future should be your top priority. It’s nobody else’s.’

He seemed to pause for a second to take her words in. ‘I guess.’

Maggie passed him a new bottle of Coke and a glass. ‘I’ve a few things you could give me a hand with before dinner if you don’t mind.’

‘Sure.’ He looked keen but that might have been the Coke. She’d never been one for fizzy drinks but Tom seemed to like it.

‘Dinner is on but there’s a cake in there that needs to come out in ten minutes.’

‘What sort?’ Tom was leaning towards the oven trying to get a glimpse.

‘Lemon drizzle,’ she said and Tom licked his lips.

*

Outside spring was preparing for summer. The trees and hedges spanned all shades of the green colour chart. Inside the barn Maggie pulled a large plank from a small pile of oddly shaped wood. She passed it to Tom, picked up a battered-looking toolbox and walked past the quad bike and back outside. She could see Tom’s disappointment at not taking the quad bike out.

They walked down to where the chickens were busily scratching and pecking at the ground. The sun darted in and out of the clouds as if to tease them. Once they entered the pen the hens gathered around but soon lost interest when there were no treats forthcoming. One had a tentative peck at Tom’s laces before scurrying away.