Pushing herself up, Gwen shakes her head, her fingers digging into her waist. ‘Bloody girl. I should have known she wouldn’t go quietly. Perhaps I was rash in giving her her marching orders.’

‘Did she give you reason?’

‘Yes, she gave me reason.’ She doesn’t mean to snap, but her voice is harsh and the words clipped. ‘Next time you’re in the pub you can let it be known that she was sent packing for propositioning my husband.’

She lays a restless hand back upon the wheel arch before whipping it away and dragging it through her hair. Ted uses the toe of his boot to unearth a stone protruding from the packed earth.

‘That troubled you, clearly,’ he says after some consideration, looking away. He releases a soft sigh. ‘Look … I was only planning on doing some hedge planting today – what do you say I help with the potatoes? You don’t want a frost getting into them.’

Gwen welcomes the distraction of his offer. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Ah, it’s no bother. You know I’m always happy to help.’ He manages some semblance of cheeriness, but it fails to alleviate the sadness that has drained the light from his eyes.

She repays him with a gentle smile, for the truth in the statement does not escape her. However cautious she has become around her neighbour – however suspicious of his evolving feelings – she knows without him she could not have survived the war and she certainly would not have kept her farm. ‘I do. Thank you, Ted.’

He steps forward, and despite her generous thoughts her vigilance returns in an instant. As if detecting the change, he covers his advance by patting the tractor.

‘You ready to go?’

‘Yes.’ She drops around to the back of the vehicle and climbs up into the seat. ‘You can crank her up for me if you like?’

‘I’ll have a go.’ He bends down to grip the starting handle. He whips it round to no avail, and then again. On the third time the engine splutters into life and he steps back.

Gwen shifts it into gear and eases forward. She applies the brake as she draws abreast of him.

‘I forgot to ask,’ she shouts over the thrum of the engine. ‘How did your hospital appointment go?’

‘Oh fine, fine … nothing to worry about, just as I said.’ His indifference is reassuring.

They are both distracted by Jack approaching with Bobby and the wagon. Tom is straddled across the gentle giant’s back, his small hands gripping the horse’s collar, his little legs barely clearing its shoulders. Jack holds the bridle, carefully keeping the pace slow and steady.

‘Well, look at you riding high,’ Ted calls to the boy, who grins in response.

‘Right then, we’d better get to it,’ Gwen shouts, and shifting the gear lever she rolls the tractor forward and leads them from the yard.