The rear garden is empty. Faint snatches of conversation carry from the front lawn where villagers continue to mingle, but here, behind the pub, there is no one to be seen. Her only company is a speckled thrush that flutters onto the wall, from where it observes her with a curious tilt of its head.

‘Gwen.’

She wheels around. A cry escapes her as Tom comes running towards her, a big grin plastered across his face, unaware of her terror which dissipates as she scoops him up in her arms, his feet flying clear of the ground.

‘Oh, Tom! You scared me half to death, I didn’t know where you’d gone!’ She looks past his shoulder at the man standing behind him and smiles. ‘Thank you, Ted. He was with me one minute and gone the next. I was worried sick.’

‘I caught him going off for a little walk, so I thought I’d best bring him back.’ The man smiles, jangling the change in his trouser pockets. He is tall and broadly built, and his leathery skin is walnut brown from the sun. ‘I think he found it a bit loud inside, didn’t you, Tom?’

The boy slides free from Gwen’s grasp, his feet landing on the path. He looks back at his rescuer and grins, brazen with familiarity – fondness even. Gwen ruffles his hair, her relief subsiding.

‘I know how you feel, Tom.’

‘Ah, it’s a bit much, isn’t it?’ Ted says.

‘Uncle Ted says he’ll buy me a lemonade if you say I can have one, Mummy,’ Tom wheedles, leaning against her legs.

‘Did he now?’ She is forced to shield her eyes from the sinking sun to look at their neighbour.

He offers her a sheepish smile. ‘Well, I had to give him a reason to come back with me – didn’t I, Tom? He’d have been halfway home else.’

Gwen laughs. Ted has been a constant in her life for as long as she can remember. She was only five when he took over the rundown farm next to theirs. He was a young newlywed of twenty-three, green behind the ears but hardworking and ambitious and he soon earnt her father’s respect.