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hey! As a thank you, how about I take you flying this week sometime?’

      He tilted his head to one side. He was suppressing a smile, I was sure of it.

      ‘A thank you? A thank you for what?’

      I glanced towards the barn.

      ‘Well – and I know it’s ever so cheeky – but for allowing me to store my aircraft in your barn for the week.’

      He turned to look at the barn.

      ‘The thing is, I can’t leave the old girl out here all week. I’m a guest at Lanyon for Christmas, you see, and I’m sure they would vouch for my good character – although it seems you’ve made a decision about that already.’ I added, with a side-eye towards the dog, who looked unconvinced. ‘I’ll pay for the inconvenience, obviously, although you’ll probably simply accuse me of throwing money at the problem …’

      He braced his back against the breeze. His expression was unreadable. Was that a smile, though?

      ‘Which one?’ he asked, finally.

      ‘Which one, what?’

      ‘Which Lanyon are you the guest of?’

      ‘Er …’

      Now, I know I should have said, Charles, I’m his fiancée, but the angel sitting on my right shoulder went into all-out battle with the devil on my left and the devil won. I should also have added, ‘We’re getting married this week, on Christmas Eve in fact. Do you know him?’

      But I didn’t. Instead I went with …

      ‘Oh, I went to school with the daughter of the house. Lottie Lanyon?’

      He nodded a kind of understanding.

      ‘The cove was the most perfect navigational landmark, what with the mounts …’ I touched my hair far too often as I spoke. ‘But the lawn at Lanyon – where I was expecting to land – was not at all suitable – trees, you see – and then there was the most terrible downdraft from the cliffs. So, it was either put down in your field or bust the old girl up in a hedge. And as I said. I didn’t notice the cows. I’m so very sorry.’

      Just how many times would I need to apologise to the man?

      He sniffed, considering. I wasn’t sure quite just what he was considering, exactly. We glanced in unison at the cows again, who were slowly being funnelled through a gateway into the next field.

      ‘Are they very upset by it all, do you think?’ I asked. ‘Is that what the problem is? Should I go and, I don’t know, pat them all and apologise or something.’

      Finally, he laughed. Even his dog glanced up at him with an amused eye roll.

      ‘I shouldn’t think an apology is necessary.’ He patted the aircraft, visibly relaxing. ‘They would have eyed this machine of yours as an excellent scratching post. They’re most likely annoyed to have missed a good look-see. Cows are inquisitive beasts. Don’t you think so, Miss?’

      ‘Caron,’ I answered brightly. ‘Miss Caron.’

       What the hell was I doing? The man was a rude and sanctimonious ass. And, oh, yes – I was getting married.

      ‘Caron,’ he repeated, softly. ‘Is that a French name?’

      ‘Yes. My mother was the Caron. She was French. She insisted that Papa took her name. Papa was English through and through, though.’

      ‘How very …’

      ‘Modern?’ I offered.

      ‘I was going to say, “good of him”. They sound like a progressive family.’

      Gaining just a little of the sense I was born with, and not wishing to talk about my parents, I took control.

      ‘But back to the barn,’ I said. ‘I know it’s such an imposition, Mr …’ I paused and waited for him to finish my sentence.

      ‘Nancarrow – Edward, Nancarrow.’

      A Cornish name? But the American accent? Intriguing.

      ‘… Nancarrow, but as I said, do you think I could put my aircraft in your barn overnight. Only, the wind’s getting up and an aircraft like this isn’t very sturdy – it’s not much more than a few planks of wood nailed together, really – just a wing and a prayer, as my mother always said. And the thing is, I’m here for the whole of Christmas week – I think I told you that already – so I’ll need somewhere safe to stow her and I’d be ever so grateful if I could pop her into the barn, really I would.’

      Edward tightened his scarf against the wind. ‘I should think that would be all right,’ he said, turning towards the stockman who waited by the far gate, looking back at us, probably still scowling. ‘But you’ll have to check with Jessops over there, first.’

      He glanced across to the stockman. I took the opportunity to examine Edward’s face. The afternoon light highlighted golden flecks in his hair and the wind reddened his cheeks to a marvellous healthy glow.

       He noticed you looking at him. He bloody-well noticed.

      Edward returned his attention to the aircraft and stroked it this time, rather than patted.

      ‘But you shouldn’t call this lovely old Tiger Moth a few planks of wood, she’s beautiful. Absolutely beautiful.’

      I adopted an expression of surprised amusement. ‘You actually know what type of aircraft it is?’

      ‘Ah, you think I don’t know one end of a magneto switch from another?’

      Handsome and a flyer …

      ‘But seriously. You fly too?’ I pressed.

      ‘Now and again, a bit of joy riding. Nothing much more than that. And there’s the feed to consider …’ The change of tack confused me.

      ‘Feed?’

      ‘For the cows. Jessops may have to check with your Mr Lanyon first, before you put the aircraft away. This is Lanyon land and they’re his cows, after all. But as you’re their guest … I’m sure it will be fine.’

      I wanted to say, ‘Don’t be silly, he’s not my Mr Lanyon,’ but then remembered that, of course, Charles was exactly that – my Mr Lanyon.

      ‘His cows? I thought they were your cows.’

      He shook his head. ‘My cows!? No. I was walking my dog along the cliffs and I’d stopped to talk to Jessops when we saw your aircraft coming in.’

      He glanced around, realising the dog had wandered off while we were talking.

      ‘Speaking of your dog, where is she?’

      He whistled. Moments later the red-and-white Collie dog appeared from behind a Cornish hedge. She had one ear up, one ear down. Edward ruffled her head. His face was a picture of fatherly pride. I knelt down to fuss the dog who jumped backwards and had absolutely no interest in me, just as Edward decided to turn tail towards the far field in the direction of Jessops.

      ‘Wait here a moment, will you …?’ he shouted back, already dashing across the field.

      The dog ran after him. I shivered. The breeze really was frightfully cold, and I hadn’t been able to warm up since the flight. I danced on the spot and waited for Edward to come back.

      ‘All sorted,’ he said, slightly out of breath having run across the field with the dog, whose name I would later learn was ‘Amber’, barking at his heels. ‘You can leave it in the barn for the week. No need to check with the big house. But perhaps you could arrange for some kind of gift to be sent to Jessops – some beer or cider perhaps, as a thank you. It’s quite an inconvenience for him.’

      You’d have thought the man was my father!

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