The colour drained from Sunday’s cheeks, and she stood up so abruptly that she almost overturned the chair. ‘A fall …? Is it bad?’

Cissie shook her head. ‘I’ve no idea – you’d best come and see.’

Side by side, the two women rushed through the house and, once they had emerged into the stableyard, they turned as one and began to race towards the group at the back of the stables, where Tom trained the horses.

‘Was it Storm he fell from?’ Sunday asked breathlessly, and when Cissie nodded she bit her lip. Hadn’t she told him that she didn’t think Storm was ready to be ridden yet? He was a beautiful young stallion and admittedly from brilliant stock, but had proved very difficult to train.

They rounded the corner to see Storm tossing his head, snorting and pawing the ground at the other side of the paddock, whilst George leaned over Tom, who was lying motionless on the ground.

Sunday was glad of the new calf-length skirts that were fashionable now as she sped towards them.

‘Don’t try and move him,’ George warned, as she dropped to her knees beside them.

She showed no sign of hearing him as she focused her attention on her husband and gently lifted his hand.

‘Oh Tom, why didn’t you wait for another couple of weeks before you tried to ride him?’ she whispered.

‘He’s out cold,’ George said unnecessarily. ‘Best not touch him ‘til the doctor gets here in case he’s broken anythin’. We might make things worse.’ Then, turning to his wife, he said, ‘Run an’ fetch a blanket to cover him, would yer, love?’

Cissie set off straight away; the late autumn air was cold. Luckily the cottage she and George lived in was close by and she was back, huffing and puffing, in minutes. George had barely had time to cover Tom with the blanket when they heard the sound of horses’ hooves, followed by that of an engine and Ben and the doctor arrived back at the same time.

As Ben leapt nimbly from his horse, the young doctor climbed out of his car and hurried towards them, clutching a large black leather bag.

Dr Lewis was a nice young man, fresh out of medical school, who had recently taken over the practice when Sunday’s family doctor retired.

‘Is he conscious?’ he asked, as he too fell to his knees beside Tom.

Sunday shook her head fearfully, still holding tight to her husband’s hand. ‘N-no, he isn’t.’

The doctor nodded as he hastily took a stethoscope from his bag. ‘Could you all stand back please and give me some space?’

His face was grim as he bent to listen to Tom’s heart, then very gently he lifted Tom’s head. It lolled to one side and Sunday’s heart began to pound so loudly she was sure they would hear it.

The doctor sat back on his heels for a moment, then shook his head as he looked at Sunday and told her gravely, ‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Branning. I’m afraid he’s gone. It looks like he broke his neck in the fall; death would have been instantaneous. He wouldn’t have felt anything.’