‘Who won?’

‘Nobody knows. An argument broke out about whether Caris Smith was cheating for using a rubber ring, and next thing we knew the swimmers were being attacked by a flock of geese.’

‘Becky said Alice is still with Jase.’

He nodded. ‘But Luke said she had a look at Becky’s spare room the other day, eyeing it up for size.’

‘Maybe I’ll give her a ring, tell her how putting off making the right choice only leads to regrets later on.’

‘Maybe you should tell her in person.’

‘Maybe I should.’

He described how the orchard was now bursting into life, with tomatoes, courgettes and spinach nearly ready for harvesting, and plans taking shape for its first wedding – childhood sweethearts from separate sides who broke off their engagement thirty-four years ago, but never had eyes for anyone else since.

‘Well, if they can forgive and forget and go as far as getting married, I’m not sure we have any excuse.’ I sat back on the sofa, horrified at my own words. ‘Not that I’m… I didn’t mean to imply…’

‘Was that a proposal?’ Daniel pretended to be horrified, but his eyes were dancing.

‘No! Oh my goodness, no!’ Every inch of my skin had flushed with mortification.

‘Good.’

‘Yes! Yes, very good. Not to be suggesting that we…’

‘I’d quite like to do that myself, if you don’t mind. And without Grandma earwigging from the corridor.’

‘I’m not earwigging, I was on my way to get a mug of cocoa!’ a croaky voice retorted from the other side of the door.

‘Shall we take this conversation somewhere more private?’ Daniel lent closer to murmur in my ear, the heat of his proximity doing nothing to ease my blushes.

‘Okay,’ I whispered back.

‘And then, tomorrow, Eleanor Sharpley, will you come home with me?’

A surge of warmth exploded inside me. I think it was joy. Joy, and hope, and the freedom of being known, and loved all the same, while understanding that there is always more to know – some good, some bad – but the one thing that will remain is love.

‘I will.’

I was going home.

Author’s Note

I first moved to a Nottinghamshire ‘ex-mining village’ fifteen years ago, where the proud mining heritage remains an inherent part of the community.

However, it was only when researching this book that I discovered the ongoing impact of the national miners’ strike in 1984–5. During the strike, whole towns and villages were split into strikers and the ‘scabs’ who crossed the picket line.

For some, this divide has never been bridged, and they still avoid certain pubs or shops because ‘that’s where the scabs went’. At the time, people travelled miles to avoid meeting someone from the ‘wrong side’ in the supermarket.

Those who went on strike weren’t entitled to benefits. Many relied on handouts. Others were reduced to burning shoes in an attempt to heat their houses once all the furniture had gone. Tensions often ran high on the picket lines, resulting in violence and destruction of property. Across the country, 20,000 were injured or taken to hospital, three men died and over 11,000 were arrested.