‘Well, maybe Luke will come along, so you can be the ones checking each other out across the cider barrels.’

‘Oh my goodness!’ Becky burst out laughing. ‘Can you imagine him turning up to an Old Side event. He’d be lynched!’ Her laugh grew to what I considered to be completely out of proportion to the supposed joke. ‘Or… or imagine if you’d decided to carry out some sneaky scheme to get both sides together, and then a load of people turned up from across the river! It’d be a full-on riot!’ She snorted a few times, trying to get her next words out. ‘You’d have to flee the country! Daniel could never show his face in the village again. I mean, the reality would not be funny, but the idea of you thinking it might work is hilarious.’

‘I don’t think you give the people of Ferrington anywhere near enough credit,’ I huffed, ignoring a prickle of apprehension. ‘You and Alice didn’t take much convincing to work together. And when I was in the pub last week, Alice pointed out loads of people who’d sneaked over to the Old Side for one reason or another. I think this feud has become far more show than substance, only no one’s brave enough to say it.’

Becky looked at me then, all trace of amusement vanished. ‘Eleanor, promise you won’t do something stupid. At least not without talking to me about it first.’

Before I could garble a jumbled lie (or confess the truth), Luke appeared.

After a rigorous inspection, he declared the barn to be solid enough. ‘It’s mostly surface damage, nothing that’ll put anyone at risk. Although that ivy could be the only thing holding the back wall together, so be careful with that.’

‘I don’t suppose you’d have time to help us empty it?’ I asked. ‘I’d pay you for your time, of course.’

Luke flicked his gaze across to Becky, loitering a few metres away in the shadow of an oak tree.

‘We’d both really appreciate the help, even if it’s just half an hour.’

‘I heard you make cakes.’

I smiled. ‘I’m sure I could rustle something up. Why don’t you two get started and I’ll put the kettle on?’

I returned with tea and a decent chunk of carrot cake to see Luke and Becky lifting either end of a rusty water trough as they carried it out of the barn. Becky’s face was glowing with exertion, her curls springing out beneath her bobble hat, and she looked positively gorgeous. I made a concerted effort to spend the next hour hefting the items small enough to carry by myself, leaving the larger ones for the two of them. It was working – Becky was keeping her composure, and even managed to stutter a coherent answer when Luke asked how the bees were doing.

‘I could bring a couple of jars of honey over, if you wanted any,’ she said, fiddling with her hat.

Luke raised one eyebrow in reply.