‘Ah, Gwen …’ The farmer’s weather-beaten cheeks grow ruddy as he has the decency to look abashed. ‘I’m sorry about last night. Jack, lad …’

‘Say no more, Jim,’ Jack says, lifting the final churn onto the platform.

Ringing hooves cut their conversation short. Jack looks up, squinting against the low morning sun which silhouettes the approaching horse and rider. Jim regiments his posture, his brow knitting as Gwen gasps and sweeps off her headscarf, shoving it into her pocket. Jack’s stomach drops as the horse, a sleek hunter with a twitching cropped tail, draws close enough for him to identify its rider.

‘Good morning!’

Gordon Allingham doffs his bowler hat. Gwen’s face breaks into a smile as she pushes past her father, self-consciously brushing at her buff trousers.

‘Good morning.’

‘I came to return this – I believe it’s yours.’ Gwen’s fox stole is draped across his thighs; he lifts it up, displaying it like a trophy from a victorious hunt. ‘Mother was most perturbed when she found it abandoned in the cloakroom this morning, but I noticed your name tag on it.’

‘Oh yes, thank you!’ Pinpricks of pink delicately colour Gwen’s cheeks. She starts forward, but as she reaches the hunter Gordon jumps down from the saddle, landing surefooted before her. He hands her the stole; she clutches it to her chest.

‘I was also going to see if you were free to ride out with me?’ The invitation is delivered in a low voice, but not low enough to escape Jim’s sharp hearing.

‘I’m afraid she can’t, we’ve sheep to dip this morning and Gwen’s help is needed.’

‘Oh, Dad …’ She whirls round to him. Jack is unable to tell whether her face is flushed from disappointment or embarrassment. Jim remains defiant.

‘I’m afraid that’s how it is with us working folk, Mr Allingham. No time for idle pleasures.’

Gwen glares at her father. Even Jack is discomfited by the farmer’s pointed remark, but the young man appears unmoved either way, though his manner is more reserved as he expresses his understanding.

‘Perhaps another time?’ His charming demeanour returns as he smiles down upon Gwen. Jack thinks he whispers something to her, but if he does, it is drowned out by the raucous crowing of the cockerel in the yard behind them. Yet as Gwen steps back to give Gordon room to remount, he notices a fresh glow about her. Allingham gathers up his reins before tipping the brim of his hat.

‘Good day to you.’

He brings his heels sharply back into the hunter’s flanks and the horse flicks up its head before walking on. Gwen waits until he is out of hearing before rounding on her father.

‘How could you be so rude?’

‘I thought I’d made myself perfectly clear the last time he came sniffing. I’ll not have you running around the countryside with the likes of him.’