Page 59 of The Cottage at Brambleton Hall

She stopped beside a row of peas, studying them as if they might explain themselves. A bee drifted past her, disappearing into a courgette flower.

‘When will these be ready . . .’

‘They already are. Sugar snaps.’

He moved closer, setting down the hose and reaching past her to lift a trailing stem, guiding it back into place. His arm brushed hers. Accidental or deliberate she couldn’t be sure. She didn’t move, hoping it was the latter. He felt it too, she was sure he did; why was he fighting this – was he so rule bound he didn’t want to offend Magnus?

Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She checked it. Chloe.

Could really do with a bit of help this week xx

Sammy stared at the message before replying:

I’ll sort something later x

By the time she had slipped the phone back into her pocket, Nate had moved further down the tunnel, misting plants again.

‘You’re going to have to keep me supplied.’

‘That’s the job.’

‘I’ll need a lesson, then,’ she said, in a slightly teasing tone. ‘With all these strange vegetables to learn about.’

‘You’ve had one,’ he said.

‘A proper one,’ she repeated.

The spray shifted direction. ‘Early,’ he said. ‘If you come early each morning when it’s cool, I can let you know what’s ready. That’s the right time of the day to pick vegetables, when they’re still full of water.’

Sammy watched him, trying to decide if this qualified as a date. ‘Early,’ she said. ‘I can do early.’

Bees droned lazily between the courgette plants, fizzing with purpose.

Date or not, she would be there.

Sammy secured an apron around her middle and started peeling potatoes. Footsteps, the smell of hairspray. She concentrated on the potatoes.

‘What’s for lunch?’ asked Valerie.

‘Fish pie.’ Jean’s recipe – with her legendary cheesy topping. She’d sent Sammy the recipe.

‘Local fish?’

‘From the harbour this morning.’

‘Our potatoes?’

‘Yes.’

‘Peas from the garden?’

‘Sugar snaps and mangetout.’ Gathered this morning with Nate while thrushes serenaded us from the hedges. Our first vegetable date – proof that picking peas together can feel surprisingly romantic.

After pushing the potatoes through a ricer, Sammy added grated parmesan, and a splash of olive oil, beating the mixture smooth as batter, before slathering it over the fish mixture and popping the dish in the Aga.

Half an hour later she served.

‘Lunch smells enticing,’ said Magnus, taking his seat at the head of the kitchen table. Sammy set the fish pie down on a mat. ‘And it looks excellent Miss Jenkins.’