‘Must have nodded off.’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you get a nap?’ His eyes drifted to the book on my lap. ‘Or just read?’

‘No, I think I managed a nap too. All this fresh air and good food.’

Jack smiled a little less tightly now and nodded. ‘It can do that to you. Throw in some warmth and peace and it’s the perfect recipe for a snooze.’ He looked up to the sky. ‘Those clouds have built since we’ve been asleep, though.’

My gaze followed his. To the west of us, the wispy white clouds of earlier had grown in both height and volume, filling the sky, shot through with the odd dark streak.

‘Is that bad?’

‘Could mean there’s some rain on the way. They did say on the radio there was a chance of storms later today. Might be an idea to begin packing up and heading back to the car, if that’s OK with you?’

‘Of course it is.’

‘You still up for that roast on the way home?’

I looked down at my stomach. ‘If I can find room!’

Jack laughed. ‘I’m sure you’ll manage. Seriously, this place I have in mind is great. You don’t want to miss out.’

‘Now I’ll have to experience it, won’t I? You can’t just give that sort of lead-up and then not follow through.’

He grinned. ‘You won’t regret it.’

‘I might do when I can’t get my jeans on tomorrow.’

‘Oh, pfft,’ he said rolling up the blanket as I tided up the last remnants of the picnic. ‘We’ve walked quite a few miles today, so you’ve burnt it off already.’

‘Glad to hear it. Then I shall look forward to it guilt free.’

‘As you should. Come on then, Clive. Back to the car.’

Clive trotted happily alongside us, unattached to a lead but as close as he would be with one.

‘He’s very good, isn’t he?’

‘He is,’ Jack said, glancing down at the dog. The picnic basket swung from one hand and the blanket we’d sat on was rolled and tucked under the other arm. I’d tried to carry one of the things, but he’d wrestled them both off me in the nicest way possible and handed me the dog lead, should we need it. Watching Clive now, it was pretty obvious we weren’t going to. Once we were all safely ensconced inside the car, Jack reversed and headed back down the hill onto the main road, in the direction of the pub whose praises he’d been singing.

He had been exactly right. The roast dinner we had both just enjoyed had to be one of the best I’ve ever eaten. Golden, crispy potatoes which, when cut open, steamed as they showed their fluffy insides. Light, airy Yorkshire puddings, crisp, fresh veg and perfectly cooked beef, all drowned in delicious, thick home-made gravy. The pudding menu looked just as lovely, but I really didn’t have any more space. As it was, I wasn’t sure I’d need to eat for the next week. Somehow Jack found room for a sticky toffee pudding, swimming in delicious pale custard, and I succumbed to testing a spoonful, confirming that it did indeed taste even better than it looked. All the while, Clive slept contentedly under the table.