‘So I did. You’re a clever girl, Gina. I’ll have to remember that,’ he said, and parked the car round the side of the pub, which was called the Painted Maypole. ‘Let’s hop out and see if this one’s any better. Gin and tonic, is it …?’

The gates of Grindle Hall were open, so James drove through and Gina offered to get out and close them behind him.

‘I can walk down the drive. There’s no need to wait,’ she told him.

‘There is! I’ll see you safely in,’ he insisted, which Gina thought was considerate. She hadn’t had him down as considerate at all until then.

As she swung the gates closed, she saw the lights on downstairs in the Lodge and she couldn’t resist a quick glance inside. Good grief, there were Mum and Nell! Why were they there at this time? What could have happened?

Gina was torn between going to find out – fearing some row with her father after the temper he’d flown into at the fête – and having a peaceful end to the evening. The latter option won; Dora’s news would still be news in the morning, and she and Ellen would be safe at Tom’s house.

Gina got back in the car and James drove to the house, then round the back into the courtyard of outbuildings. When he’d locked the car, they walked together to the back door.

‘Thank you for your company, Gina. I’m sorry about the first pub, but never mind, we did better at the second.’

‘We did. Thank you, James. The Painted Maypole was right smart and the food was lovely.’

Gina remembered hearing the landlord saying the cook had just finished for the evening, but James produced some banknotes and just happened to mention – as the landlord went ‘to see what he could do’ – that his name was Stellion. The Painted Maypole sold Stellion’s beer, and Gina saw for the first time in her life just how commerce and influence worked hand in hand. It had been quite an eye-opening experience.

The food was served by the landlord’s daughter, who was about Gina’s age, and she all but curtsied at their table. Gina felt what it was like to be respected, even if that respect was bought by the money of the man she was with.

The food was delicious and she and James chatted and laughed about Little Grindle and life at the Hall. Gina asked about his life in London.

‘Oh, it’s not so exciting, Gina,’ he said. ‘The air is filthy and the fogs in winter are terrible.’

‘I’m not bothered about bad weather,’ she replied. ‘I’ve lived up here all my life and I reckon I know all about that. Tell me what it is you do and the kinds of places you go to.’