I didn’t know if it would ever be enough, these small attempts to counteract the damage I’d caused but I would pledge myself to keep trying, and that was the best I could do.

It was five o’clock, and a distinct nip had settled in the air when we decided to down tools for the week. Luke was also finishing up. We went to inspect the progress and found him packing up the last of his equipment. We now had the bare bones of a bathroom and two single bedrooms. On Monday, the shower and other fittings would arrive, and we would be able to start painting the bedrooms.

‘Wow, you’ve done loads!’ Becky said from where she stood by the window. Given that she was contained in a small room with Luke, her voice was impressively close to normal frequency. ‘You must be ready for the weekend.’

‘Yep.’ Luke nodded as he checked through his toolbox.

‘Any plans?’

‘Heading to the Boatman.’

‘I’ve always wanted to try the pie at the Boatman. Alice says they’re amazing.’

‘They’re not bad.’ Luke clicked the toolbox shut.

‘Like, with a pint.’

Luke did one last visual sweep of the bathroom. It was a good job he scanned straight past Becky because she looked about ready to melt in a pile of molten mortification.

‘They probably go really well together.’

‘It’s a classic combination.’ Luke picked up his toolbox and walked the three steps to the doorway, where I stepped back to allow him past.

‘I heard they do an offer. On Fridays?’

He twisted back to face Becky, one eyebrow raised, the hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. ‘I’ll save you a seat.’

And then Luke Winter swung down the stairs and into his van before Becky had time to collapse into the space where the toilet was supposed to be.

In between jumping at every sudden noise, thrashing about in my duvet all night and going over increasingly disturbing scenarios involving the bee killer’s return, I did my best to spend the weekend immersed in weeding, and talking to Alice about her plans for the Rebuilding Committee meeting on Sunday evening. Daniel was trying to pretend he was totally chilled out about his girlfriend being on the receiving end of multiple sinister messages from someone who had broken into his orchard and stolen a hive of bees, but he always seemed to coincidentally be drifting about wherever I found myself to be. At one point I had to turn around and tell him that I was going to the toilet and really didn’t need a chaperone.

On Sunday, once Alice arrived, we spent an hour sorting out the barn before the meeting was due to start. This meant dragging in whatever makeshift seating we could find – a few garden chairs, followed by some crates, boxes and a couple of logs. We had no idea who – if anyone – would come, but both Alice and Ziva had been working hard at promoting the message on each side, and we were buzzing with anticipation that we were on the brink of seeing Ferrington history in the making.