Josephine Cox Sunday Times Bestsellers Collection. Josephine Cox

else, he farms, and that’s all right, because he has the same love for the land that I do.’

      ‘Oh Lenny.’ The voice grew whining. ‘I know how passionate you are about this place …’

      ‘No, you don’t.’ Now he was calmer, wanting to explain. ‘You live in town. You can have no idea of what it feels like to see the harvest being brought in, or to stride the fields on a winter’s morning, when the snow lies deep in the ditches and the trees bend and dip with the weight.’ His voice dropped. ‘If you want us to marry, as I do, then you must accept that my work is important to me.’

      ‘All right, my darling, but why can’t we go away – for a month maybe?’

      ‘We will,’ he consoled her. ‘Look, we’re due to be married next spring, and if it suits you, we can have a much longer honeymoon than planned. How’s that?’

      ‘And can I plan where we go?’ She was a spoiled child.

      ‘If you like, yes.’

      ‘And money’s no object?’

      He gave a sigh. Did his fiancée not realise that most of the world was plunged into a financial crisis? ‘It is our honeymoon after all,’ he said resignedly.

      ‘Oh, Lenny, it will be so wonderful!’ Excitement coloured her voice. ‘Then in the winter, can we go far away – to the South of France or even further afield? My London friends spent last winter in Sydney and they said it was the best time they ever had. Oh, it would be so nice to get right away. I do get so bored visiting the same old places.’

      ‘You’re a mystery to me.’ A different emotion crept into his words. ‘You’re infuriating and selfish, and sometimes I wonder what I see in you. But fool that I am, I can’t help but love you.’

      ‘I’ll remember that when you refuse me what I ask.’

      ‘You will have to remember something else too.’

      ‘For instance?’

      ‘For instance, that being a landowner, I must bow to my duties here. There will always be times when I can’t just take off at your every whim and fancy.’

      There came that soft trill of laughter again. ‘We shall have to see, won’t we? Now I think you should give me a kiss, by way of apology.’

      ‘Don’t you think the apology should come from you?’

      ‘Aw, Leonard! Does it really matter who apologises? Kiss me, and we’ll forget we ever quarrelled.’

      Silence reigned for a moment, when Lucy imagined they were in the throes of the ‘apology’. Then came the sound of a door opening and closing, and when she glanced out of the window, Lucy saw them going arm-in-arm down the driveway to the long black car, recently chosen by Patricia Carstairs, paid for by Mr Maitland, and delivered only three days ago.

      ‘Oh darling! Won’t people be envious when they see us together in this!’ was Patricia’s parting remark as she climbed into the car.

      Lucy watched them drive off; the woman slim, beautiful, and arrogant to the quick, while the gentleman was attentive and homely, a gentle giant of a man.

      Lucy thought them quite unsuited. ‘That one’s trouble. He should drop her like a hot potato!’ Closing the curtains, she pranced across the room on tippy-toe, emulating Patricia Carstairs, one hand on her hip, the other swanking by her side, mimicking the woman’s voice to perfection. ‘Oh darling! Won’t people be envious when they see us together in this?’ She pitied the poor wretches who had no work and no money; to see a smart car passing by, occupied by that one with her nose in the air would be like a red rag to a bull.

      Breaking into song, Lucy returned to her work, gave the large silver teapot another rub with the cloth, then with the greatest of care replaced it in the cabinet, where she shifted the silverware about until the display was pleasing to the eye.

      She now closed the door, took up a clean cloth from her basket and giving the door-glass a good polish, gave a sigh of relief. ‘All done for another week!’

      A few minutes later, she was out of the house and running across the back lawns towards the fields. Now, as she rounded the brow of the hill, she heard the laughter from Barney’s house. Pausing, she took off her shoes, set off at the run and before long was at the gate of Overhill farmhouse. ‘Quick, Lucy!’ Vicky was beckoning her. ‘Hurry!’

      When the young woman ran into the garden, she saw little Jamie standing with his back to the trunk of the apple tree, arms wide and laughing as only a child can laugh. ‘He’s trying to walk all the way over to us unaided,’ Vicky told Lucy. ‘Three times he’s started off and three times he’s fallen. I’ve stood him up again, but he loves this game, and he wants to carry on playing it.’

      Lucy was delighted. Jamie was a good little walker now, but his gammy leg meant he often fell over. Falling to her knees, she opened her arms wide, coaxing the boy. ‘Come to your mammy, sweetheart.’

      He stopped giggling and stared at her, as though he might be giving it some thought. Then he looked up to excitedly point into the skies, at a hawk hovering nearby. ‘Bird!’ he shouted. ‘Big bird.’

      Arms still wide, Lucy took a step nearer. ‘Look at me, Jamie. Come on, sweetheart.’

      The child would have none of it. Completely ignoring her, he scoured the skies with his big bright eyes, one finger pointing as he slowly but surely slid downwards, his back seemingly glued to the tree.

      ‘Stay there, Lucy!’ Running forward, Vicky propped him up again. ‘Try, sweetheart,’ she urged the little man. Slowly she backed away, one hand up flat, as though it might dissuade him from sliding down again.

      Standing next to Lucy, Vicky took a cooked sausage from the picnic hamper. ‘Ooh – look what I’ve got.’ She waved the sausage from side to side. ‘If you want it, you’ll have to come and get it.’

      Lucy laughed. ‘That’s a wicked thing to do.’

      Suddenly the child was interested. He licked his lips and raising his arms, made an effort to shuffle forward. ‘He means it this time,’ Vicky whispered. ‘He’ll do it now, you see if he doesn’t.’

      And he didn’t, because when he spotted Barney appearing, he promptly sat down. ‘Leave the little fella alone.’ Still in his work-clothes, his cap pulled forward, Barney stood beside the two women and looking at the boy asked, ‘What are they doing to you, eh?’

      Lucy straightened up. ‘We’re trying to coax him to walk over here without falling over,’ she answered. ‘Vicky said he tried and failed three times.’

      ‘Is that right?’ The smile he gave Vicky spoke volumes; even when he wasn’t saying he loved her, he still showed it – in his smile, in his eyes, in the way he always stood by her side – always there with her, even when he wasn’t.

      ‘Well, he looks proper fed up now, and no mistake. Poor little bugger, you’ve stuck him up against a tree and now he can’t do nothing but sit down.’ And that was exactly what Jamie had done. Sitting on the ground he was pulling the grass up and attempting to eat it.

      ‘Go on then. Stand him up again, but this is the last attempt,’ Barney insisted. ‘Looks to me like he’s had enough.’ Tipping back his cap he stooped to one knee, and waited until Lucy had propped up the child. ‘Right then, Jamie, old son.’ Looking the child in the eye, he said quietly, ‘You’re to take no notice o’ these women. They’re like all women the world over – nag, nag, nag. Anybody’d think you’d only got a minute to learn the walking, when truth being, you’ve got all the time in the world.’ He feigned a deep sigh. ‘But if it’s the only way you can get to sit down in peace and eat your sausage, then if I were you, I’d give it another go.’

      He raised his arms and stretching them apart, he gave the boy a cheeky wink, quietly chattering to himself. ‘It’s up to you, son. You can either come and