‘Don’t be silly, darling. It’s all been agreed. Daddy has tons of space and what about the horses?’

‘What about the bloody horses? You have two grooms. Daddy Mackeever can fend for himself.’

‘You really are a bore, Andrew. This is my house and I don’t see why we should move into some semi in Headingley. Daddy says you can convert the stables and run a private practice from there.’

‘Are you deaf? I believe in this new National Health Service. I happen to like working with kids. In fact, I’m seriously thinking of retraining. There’s lots of opportunities for a medic to specialise…’

‘This is too much! What future is there in that? How can we go hunting midweek?’

‘When have I ever hunted with you in the middle of the week?’

‘But I thought we could go off on holidays, trekking. We might as well stay as we are then. I don’t intend to leave High House to answer your phone calls.’

‘I wouldn’t dream of risking you at that after the last one you misdirected!’

‘You’re not going on about that again? Ever since that man topped himself you’ve been like a bear with a sore head. Snapping at me every time I mention the wedding. Anyone’d think you’d got cold feet!’

‘If we can’t agree on my job, where we live, how I spend my time, what’s left to get married for… well, the rest we’ve done already.’ Drew smiled.

‘Don’t be coarse!’ Ginnie lit a cigarette and opened the veranda windows. ‘Now you tell me, two weeks before the day. So gloves off, is it? Well, let me tell you, you’re no great shakes in that department either and since you’ve taken the pledge you’re about as much fun as flat champagne! Boring on about your army group and dressmaker’s sons with polio… what do I care about any of them? You’re a bore, Andrew Stirling, and I’m not marrying a bloody bore!’ Ginnie pulled off her engagement ring and flung it into the shrubbery. ‘There! That’s better!’ He could see the tears in her eyes.

‘Yes, it’s a wee bit of a relief. Tell the truth and shame the devil! The only thing you and I had in common was the booze. Since I got my act together we’re not the cosy little couple we once were: Andrew, Ginnie and a bottle. I’m advising you, it wouldn’t do you any harm to cut back your own tippling. I’m no ready to put on a collar and lead. Some tame lap dog running to heel at your or your father’s beck and call. I have ma own life to lead and if you don’t want to share any of it, I just don’t see the point, do you?

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