The cider press was set up in one corner, although we had only a few crates of apples, none of which had been grown in the orchard, but it was a start. In the meadow, a couple of people were setting out markers for a rounders game. Six teams had entered the tournament, the only rule being that at least two people from each side had to be on every team.

The staff from Pepper’s Pizza and Ferrington Fish and Chippy had set up a giant barbeque with accompanying side-dishes, next to which was the gazebo where Becky and I would serve cream teas and other light refreshments.

The atmosphere was electric, and we still had over two hours to go. I shoved thoughts of Nora Sharp to one side, vague fears about the crazy stalker to another, and got stuck in.

By the time the gates opened at eleven, there was a line of people snaking halfway down the lane. Shortly before that, I’d found Daniel down by the newly discovered footbridge, which would be officially opened when we held the duck race that afternoon. He was sitting on the riverbank, arms resting on his knees, so lost in thought that he didn’t hear me coming.

‘Hey.’ I sat down, gently bumping his arm.

‘Hi.’ He nodded in acknowledgement, but kept his eyes on the far shore of the river. The air was ripe with the scent of newly cut grass, where a path had been mowed through the meadow, and enough undergrowth cut back to allow a clear route into the New Side of the village. Someone had added a safety rope either side of the concrete bridge, and this was now covered in brightly coloured ribbons which fluttered gently in the breeze.

‘It’s a big day.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Thinking about your great-grandad?’

His mouth flickered up in a brief smile. ‘Great-grandad, Grandad. Dad…’ He paused, his voice breaking.

‘Charlie,’ I said, softly.

He nodded, closing his eyes for a long moment.

‘They’d be so pleased.’ I tucked my arm through his, leaning up closely against him. ‘Not to mention proud. It’s incredible what you’re doing. For the farm, and for Ferrington.’

He didn’t reply, but found my fingers, tucked up against his chest, and clutched them tightly. A brown mallard drifted past, a brood of black and yellow striped ducklings following closely behind.

‘I got you something.’ I unwound my arm from his and opened the bag that I’d brought with me. Daniel waited while I drew out a glass bottle and handed it to him.

‘Damson Farm Cider.’ He read the label, face creasing into a grin. ‘A commemorative bottle, marking the very first Damson Day.’ He inspected it closer. ‘Empty?’

I laughed. ‘It’s a prototype only. A promise, of great things to come.’

‘Thank you.’ Daniel’s gaze was soft. ‘I love it.’ He stopped then, his eyes flickering down before meeting mine again. He took a deep breath in, and carefully took hold of my hand. ‘Speaking of which.’ He swallowed. My heart started thumping in response. ‘Of… love…’