‘It went very well,’ Sunday admitted. She’d been to Treetops for dinner on a few occasions over the last few months and was now thoroughly enjoying John’s company. He was very easy to get on with and she sensed that, like her, he was lonely following the death of his wife. He had confided that he and his wife had brought Giles up since he was ten years old when John’s son and his young wife had both been killed in a driving accident and that had confirmed to her what a truly lovely man he was, for he was clearly very proud and fond of his grandson. It was nice to have someone to discuss things with, she’d decided, and she and John were comfortable in each other’s company now.

Just then Livvy marched over in her riding gear with a face as dark as thunder.

‘Oh dear, what’s wrong now?’ Sunday asked, noting her daughter’s stormy face.

‘It’s that arrogant beast up at Treetops,’ Livvy raged. They immediately knew she was talking about Giles. She never had a good word to say about the poor chap. ‘Can you believe he just asked me if I wanted to have Willow shod along with the other horses George and Billy are taking to the blacksmith’s tomorrow? Just who the bloody hell does he think he is? I’m quite able to pay for my own horse’s shoes! We’re not paupers!’

‘He was probably just trying to be kind knowing that you’d most likely be at work,’ her mother pointed out but Livvy was having none of it.

‘Huh! He needn’t bother,’ she stormed, her pretty face twisted with fury. ‘It’s bad enough that he’s taken over our stables without him being condescending!’ She turned and slammed indoors without even waiting for an answer and Sunday shook her head.

‘I’ve given up hoping those two will ever be friends,’ she said sadly and Cissie nodded in agreement.

‘I reckon yer right there. But in fairness, it’s down to Livvy. Giles ain’t a bad young chap if she’d only give him a chance.’

‘There’s not much hope of that happening now,’ Sunday agreed glumly as Kathy hauled herself to her feet.

‘I think I’ll go and put my feet up for a while,’ she informed them and once she’d gone Sunday shook her head again.

‘I wish this birth was over,’ she admitted worriedly. ‘I keep thinking …’

‘I know exactly what yer thinkin’ an’ yer can stop that nonsense straight away,’ Cissie scolded, waggling a finger at her. ‘Yer thinkin’ o’ what happened when she was born, ain’t yer? But it’ll be different for her, you’ll see!’