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of the green turf.
    ‘He needs one more fall,’ Tessa murmured and Beth cast her a surreptitious glance. Her first impressions must have been correct. Tessa did have a soft spot for this Andrew Barton. Again she felt an odd sinking of her heart as she noted Sarah’s equally avid interest.
    Moments later it was all over. Andrew brought his rival to his knees and down he went. A great cheer went up and the older man hurried forward to slap Andrew on the back with great gusto.
    ‘That’s William Barton, Andrew’s father. Everyone calls him Billy. Was a champion himself in his time.’ Lots of other people crowded round to congratulate the boy. He grinned at them all before grabbing a towel and started to vigorously rub his head with it.
    Then Tessa was weaving her way through the crowd towards him. ‘Hi, Andrew. Congratulations. Good contest.’ She planted a kiss on his sweating cheek and laughed. ‘You look in good shape.’
    ‘I’m fine,’ he said, his gaze shifting to Beth, and then on to Sarah. Beth stifled a sigh as she saw his eyes widen slightly as he recognised the full impact of her beauty. Wasn’t it always so?
    Tessa was busy introducing them both and didn’t see. Andrew nodded his head slowly as he’d done before, by way of acknowledgement. ‘If you wait while I get changed, I’ll buy you all a beer.’
    ‘You’re on,’ Sarah purred, managing to insinuate herself closer to his side, lifting her smiling face to his. He looked down at her for a long moment then smiled. ‘Give me one minute.’
    Before he disappeared into the nearby tent he again lifted his gaze across to Beth. There was interest in the glance, and a shrewd speculation. Not that she noticed. Her own eyes were fastened on the ground and she was telling herself sternly that it was entirely unreasonable to be troubled because no man ever looked at her in that way. Sarah and Tessa were welcome to fight over him, if it made them happy. She was done with men, wasn’t she? Larkrigg Hall was all that mattered now. She resolved to broach the subject with Meg at the very first opportunity.
     
    It was the Monday following the sports day and the family were assembled at Ashlea for a celebratory meal. Lemonade was found for the children and Sally Ann opened a couple of dusty bottles of home-made elderflower wine for the adults. There was much relaxing laughter amidst the fetching and filling of glasses and when each held a glass of wine, Sarah and Beth, Tam, Meg and Sally Ann, her son Nick and his wife Jan, a toast was made to the Queen and to their own happy reunion. Glasses were clinked and smiles exchanged. As they sipped the wine and watched pictures of the Silver Jubilee celebrations in Windsor Great Park on the tiny television set in Sally Ann’s front parlour they planned how they would light the beacon fire on Dundale Knot that evening, to link up with the hundreds of others lit the length and breadth of the land to celebrate this momentous day.
    Later, the family all sat down to one of Sally Ann’s famous tatie pots, rich with mutton gravy, followed by thick slices of apple pie and homemade crumbly cheese. A feast to warm any heart.
    Staggering under the weight of full stomachs, Tam, Nick, Jan, and the children went off laughing to see to the bonfire and the women thankfully relaxed to talk about family and farming matters.
    Meg and Sally Ann recalled the tough days of the war, of Effie, their ragged evacuee, who was terrified of cows. They recalled how Lissa had come to them and how she had stayed on at Broombank and come to terms, eventually, with her lack of proper parents. Then they moved on to the twins.
    ‘You were no more than bairns when you left for America. You won’t remember my father, Joe?’
    The twins shook their heads.
    ‘He died shortly after you left in 1965. Cantankerous to the end he was. He did have a heart but you had to work hard to find it.’ Meg gave a wry smile. ‘Funny how things change. Just when you