This was not going to plan. Gina had wanted to arrive on the shiny bike, show off about her new job, working personally for Mrs Stellion, and collect her pay. It hadn’t occurred to her that the farmers would be only too pleased to see the back of her. She didn’t fancy starting the day with a difficult encounter with Mrs Beveridge, but neither did she want to forgo her pay, even though it would be no more than a few shillings.

She thought it over and pride won out over pay. Good riddance, indeed! She grabbed the bicycle and rode out of the farmyard and away down the lane.

She hadn’t gone far, though, before she straightened her back and raised her head high. Good riddance worked both ways! Soon she was pretending this was her own bike as she pedalled round the ruts and the patches of grass growing down the centre.

What do I care about Nancy Beveridge and her smelly old hens? Or those sheep? Onward and upward.

She rode on with renewed high spirits towards the Hall … towards a whole world of new opportunities.

Tom Arnold was in the drive tidying up the camellias when Dora and Ellen arrived for work. He looked up when he heard their footsteps on the gravel. Dora looked pale and tired. It must be hard work for one woman to keep the Hall spick and span. The Stellions’ housekeeper, Mrs Thwaite, brought in extra help for the annual spring cleaning, or if there was a ‘do’ to prepare for, but the general appearance of a clean and tidy house was Dora’s work. She took a pride in it and had done it for several years, but maybe it was getting too much for her. Or maybe there was another reason she looked all in. Probably something to do with his miserable brother, Tom thought.

‘Morning, Dora … Nell.’

‘Morning, Tom.’

‘Morning, Mr Arnold.’ Ellen beamed at remembering to be formal, even though all those present were family. She was learning already that appearances were important at the Hall.

‘You ready to get started, Nell? You could take over here, clearing up these dropped blooms and generally tidying the drive while I go and see to the lawn mower. Be sure to get up all these brown flower heads, pull out any weeds from the gravel and then just rake it over lightly.’

‘Of course, Mr Arnold,’ Ellen smiled willingly. She took off her old Fair Isle cardigan and hung it over the handles of the wheelbarrow. Her gardening gloves were in her bag – her school satchel, which was proving useful years after she’d left school – because she’d proudly taken them home to show her parents. In the end, only Dora had admired them.

‘Thank you, Nell. I’ll come and see how you’re getting on in a bit.’

He and Dora moved on towards the house.