So you see, dearest Lucas, it is what I prayed for. It is a sign. We have been tested, but we were meant to be together. If you will still have me, I am yours. Heidi xxx

Lucas turned to look back the way he had come, at the valley coming to life before his eyes. The thaw after the freeze, like in a fairy tale. Magic, the world was brimming with it. A lost son, a lost ring, lost love, all found – a wand had been waved, and he didn’t care why or how.

Fired up with adrenalin, and noting that the Ford was more or less horizontal, at right angles to the slope, Lucas decided to take the risk of releasing the hand brake and giving the car a shove. He used his back for the task, hooking his hands under the bumper. It shunted forwards with unexpected ease, and then started first time when he tried the ignition. A cautious four-point turn completed, and he was cruising back down the valley, allowing himself, for what felt like the first time in his entire life, to acknowledge the beauty of the little stone house in which he had been raised. Halfway down, he turned the engine off and let the car coast, winding his window open. The cool air ruffled his hair. Birds warbled.

The hall was stacked with packed bags, Dylan’s rucksack – Lucas was relieved to see – dominating the pile. Both children and Esther were in the kitchen, clearing up, organising leftovers in the fridge.

‘I managed to retrieve the car.’

‘Yes, we saw. Well done.’ Esther didn’t quite look at him. She was starting to butter two pieces of toast and had a pot of Marmite open. ‘This is for your father. I thought you might take it up to him.’

‘He’s still in his room?’

‘He came down and did the hens, and then went back upstairs,’ Dylan answered, frowning. ‘He told me that he’d eaten much earlier – porridge and honey, he said – but we don’t have any honey left and I couldn’t see the pan. When we get to the top of the hill, I’m defo calling Iris.’

‘Iris?’ Lucas went to the sink, where a saucepan from their breakfast was soaking.

‘Here.’ Esther handed him a cloth she had been using to wipe surfaces.

‘Iris, oh, she’s, like, this old lady who calls by every week,’ Dylan explained airily. ‘A nurse from way back, apparently. She’s cool actually, always saying I can phone if I want… it just feels so mean leaving him, Mum,’ he burst out.

Lucas worked the cloth hard, and to little effect, over the layer of cooked egg coating the bottom of the pan. Dylan, he knew, was addressing Esther, not daring to make the same plea to his father.