‘Let’s take Coco to the outbuilding and he can show you his tricks,’ suggested Gina. ‘I know it’s good for him to have some exercise outdoors, but the poor boy will be washed away today, and I might be too.’

Edith sighed. ‘All right then. This oppressive weather is starting to make my head ache.’

‘You’ll feel better if you get some air, Mrs Stellion. Don’t you always? And you’ll be amazed at Coco, I promise,’ said Gina, who’d been teaching the little dog several entertaining moves.

In the empty outbuilding, Gina set up the broom handle between two low piles of bricks and Coco performed beautifully. Then she raised the bar by another brick at each side, and then another.

‘It’s higher than he is! What a clever boy you are, Coco,’ said Edith, marvelling at her puppy’s antics. Coco barked excitedly and did another leap just to show his talent wasn’t a fluke. Edith and Gina laughed together. Then Gina had him jumping up on his hind legs for a biscuit as his reward.

Diana’s bicycle was propped up at one side of the place and it caught Gina’s eye as Edith was fussing around her little dog.

‘Does Diana ever come home?’ she asked.

‘Not often, I’m afraid. She’s so busy with her life in London. She works in an office, typing. It’s in Whitehall, in London, a government place. I think she’s got important things to type,’ said Edith.

‘That’s a shame for you not to see her. And what about James?’

‘No, my son is also very busy in London.’ Edith looked sad. ‘Let’s go back inside, Gina,’ she said. ‘It’s cold for July. Come on, Coco. There’s a good boy.’

Gina closed the outbuilding door and ran across the courtyard to the back door, which Edith was by then holding open for her. Edith went to ask Mrs Bassett to make a pot of tea while Gina dried off Coco’s paws and then they followed her upstairs.

‘Why don’t you ask them, Mrs Stellion?’ Gina said when they were all back in the morning room. ‘If you write and ask your son and daughter to come and see you, I reckon mebbe they might.’

‘But wouldn’t they think something was wrong if I suddenly write to them like that?’

‘Wrong? Not if you just say you’d like to see them. Tell them you miss them and you’d love them to come home for the weekend. They could bring some friends mebbe; show the folk from London what it’s like up north.’

They both looked through the window at the pouring rain, the clouds obscuring the view at a low level.

‘Tell them to bring their macs,’ said Gina, deadpan, and they both burst out laughing.