‘I’m a bit of both really,’ I explained, thinking of the lovely Essex countryside, ‘but, thanks to work, I haven’t had much opportunity to appreciate the great outdoors recently.’

‘Well, fill your boots,’ Joe grinned, ‘because it doesn’t get much better than this. I might not have been around here much for the last few years, but Norfolk has never been far from my thoughts.’

The day we had stumbled across each other on the clifftop, he had mentioned how he still felt ‘the pull of the place’ and looking out of the window, I could completely understand why.

‘Here we are,’ he said turning off the road and on to a sweeping drive, ‘we’re a little early, but that doesn’t matter. I don’t know about you but I’m absolutely ravenous. I skipped lunch because I knew we were coming here.’

‘That good, is it?’

‘Hell yes,’ he said seriously, ‘that good.’

‘Oh my,’ I said, smoothing down the front of my dress and feeling mightily pleased that I had worn it as a stunning brick and flint manor house came into view, ‘this place is beautiful.’

‘Wait until you see the grounds,’ Joe smiled.

He left word of our arrival at reception and then we took a leisurely stroll through the gardens and orchards, while the smartly uniformed staff finished setting up for the afternoon service.

I don’t think I said much as we walked around the pristinely kept grounds, but that was because I was too in awe of it all. Manicured lawns, burgeoning herbaceous borders and even the odd regal peacock crossed our path, but my favourite spot was the walled garden and orchard.

‘I can just imagine Mr McGregor in here,’ I smiled, remembering how Dad used to read the story to me before bed when I was little.

‘Who?’

‘Mr McGregor,’ I said again, ‘from Peter Rabbit.’

‘Oh yes,’ Joe laughed, ‘he wouldn’t stand for any little bunnies in these neat rows, would he?’

‘Absolutely not,’ I sighed. ‘This is my favourite part of the whole place, I think.’

‘What, the veg garden?’

‘Yes,’ I confirmed, ‘the veg garden.’

Joe’s smile broadened.

‘What?’

‘We used to bring Mum here on her birthday every year,’ he told me, his voice taking on a husky edge, ‘and funnily enough, this was the spot she loved most too.’

The tea was every bit as wonderful as I knew it would be. Fresh roses adorned the tables and there were at least a dozen teas to choose from. Rather than picking a sweet or savoury menu for two, Joe insisted that we had one of each so we had the opportunity to try everything on offer. The staff carried it all to the table and made a great show of placing napkins in our laps and preparing and pouring our drinks. I felt thoroughly spoiled even before I had eaten anything.